Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 82

Morgana

The strategic room of Nightfang Fortress bathed in amber candlelight, shadows dancing across the oak table carved with snarling wolf heads. I stood beside Garrick, watching him study the marked positions on the massive map spread before us, his silver goblet filled with deep red wine catching the flickering flames.

My slender fingers traced across a particular region, voice smooth as silk as I offered my counsel. "If we can seize these three human villages, we'll control the entire Silver Valley's grain supply," I murmured, savoring the strategic elegance of it. "No more competing with the First Legion for hunting territories."

Garrick nodded approvingly, just about to respond when urgent knocking shattered our planning session. His voice dropped to a threatening growl that would have sent lesser creatures fleeing.

"Who dares disturb me?"

The soldier's voice trembled beyond the door. "Commander Garrick, forgive the intrusion. Urgent military intelligence regarding the plague."

I straightened gracefully, placing a reassuring hand on Garrick's tensed arm. "Let me handle this, darling," I smiled sweetly. "You know how frightening you become when angry."

I approached the door, opening it just enough for moonlight to illuminate my pale, delicate features. The soldier instinctively lowered his gaze, as if afraid those serpentine eyes might ensnare his very soul.

"Speak. What news could be so pressing?"

"Report: the plague has been resolved. Word from Lycandor Keep—the purification ritual succeeded completely. All black beetles eliminated. His Majesty the Wolf King has begun his return journey."

"What?" Garrick slammed down his goblet, striding to the door with barely contained fury. "How could the purification ritual possibly succeed? Who conducted it?"

"According to reports, a female spellcaster named Thalia. She used four sacred relics to complete the ceremony."

Garrick's piercing gaze turned to me as he said in a low voice, "Didn't you say you'd handled this? Wasn't the Moonlight Flower corrupted by your magic?"

My expression remained unchanged, though inwardly I wrestled with turbulent shock. The high-order dark magic I'd woven should have corrupted any purification attempt—even the most powerful werewolf mages couldn't easily break such enchantments. What manner of being was this Thalia?

I moved back to Garrick's side, fingers trailing soothingly along his rigid arm, voice sweet as poisoned honey. "Darling, unexpected complications arise in any plan. Don't worry—this is merely a minor setback." I turned dismissively toward the soldier. "You're dismissed."

The messenger hastily bowed and retreated, door clicking shut behind him.

Garrick swept several map markers to the floor in explosive frustration. "This isn't a minor setback! This affects our entire strategy!"

I calmly collected the scattered pieces, dangerous light flashing in my eyes before resuming that gentle facade. "My dear wolf, patience. I'll personally investigate this Thalia, discover exactly what abilities allowed her to unravel my magic. Perhaps...she could become our ally. Or..." I let the words hang meaningfully, "a threat requiring complete elimination."

Garrick's cold snort gradually gave way to mollified acceptance of my confidence. "Go then. Don't disappoint me. We've prepared too long for this plan to fail now."

I smiled, leaning close to murmur against his ear. "I never disappoint you, do I? Wait for my good news."

---

The stone walls of Lycandor Keep gleamed with ethereal blue light under the moon's caress, as if whispering the ancient fortress's countless secrets. Wrapped in my dark crimson cloak, I moved like a shadow through the corridors, destination clear—Thalia's chamber.

Yet as I approached that heavy oak door, two fully armed elite guards crossed their spears, barring my path with mechanical precision.

"Halt, lady." The guard's voice carried arctic coldness.

I produced my most enchanting smile, drawing a blood-red glowing badge from beneath my cloak. "I am Commander Garrick's envoy, sent to pay respects to the hero who resolved the plague. This is the Second Legion's token—I trust you recognize it."

The guards exchanged glances, expressions unchanged. "We recognize the token, but facts remain unchanged. Commander Draven has ordered—no one enters this room. No exceptions."

"Even envoys from fellow Legion Commanders?" I raised an eyebrow, voice carrying dangerous sweetness. "Commander Garrick would find this... displeasing."

"Even His Majesty's personal guard must obey Commander Draven's orders," the guard replied without inflection. "Any objections should be directed to Commander Draven personally."

My gaze lingered on both guards' resolute faces, realizing tonight offered no breakthrough here. I gracefully tucked away the badge, inclining my head slightly. "I understand. Please inform Lady Thalia that the Second Legion honors her achievements."

Turning away, my brow furrowed slightly. The guards' attitude suggested protecting not a hero, but guarding a prisoner. Why would Draven confine the plague's resolver? This defied logic—unless this Thalia harbored secrets Draven preferred kept hidden.

A decision crystallized in my mind—I needed to confront Draven directly, excavating truth from its source.

---

At Draven's study door, the sentry clearly surprised by my nocturnal visit nonetheless followed protocol, announcing my arrival. Granted permission, I pushed open the heavy oak door, immediately struck by suffocating darkness and overwhelming alcohol fumes.

No candles burned within; only dying firelight provided feeble illumination. In that dimness, I witnessed an incredible sight—Draven, the First Legion Commander renowned for discipline and severity, now slumped dejectedly on the hearth rug, surrounded by empty bottles.

"Commander Draven," I carefully closed the door, voice deliberately concerned, "I hadn't expected to find you in such... circumstances."

Draven lifted his head, eyes unfocused and weary. "Morgana. Garrick's woman." His voice rasped with drunken thickness. "What brings you here?"

I settled gracefully into the fireside armchair. "Commander Garrick sent me to visit the hero who resolved the plague, expressing the Second Legion's appreciation."

"Thalia is injured. Not receiving visitors." Draven's response came sharp and final, followed by another drink.

"Injured?" My voice carried perfectly calibrated surprise. "From what I understand, successfully performing such powerful purification rituals requires extraordinary ability. I'm curious about Lady Thalia's background."

Draven's eyes suddenly focused, boring into me with razor intensity. "Your curiosity exceeds appropriate bounds, Morgana." He lurched upright, stance unsteady but authority undiminished. "Thalia's affairs require no concern from you. Now leave my study."

I observed Draven carefully, seeing pain and rage hidden beneath his drunken exterior. This transcended mere alcohol-induced emotion—deeper wounds festered beneath. I considered whether to employ enchantment magic while his will wavered, probing for additional secrets. But instinct warned that even intoxicated, Draven wouldn't succumb easily to magical manipulation—and failure would expose my true nature.

"I understand. My apologies for the intrusion." I rose smoothly, moving toward the door. "Pleasant evening, Commander Draven."

Leaving his study, dangerous light flickered in my eyes. Draven's reaction confirmed my suspicions—Thalia was no ordinary human. She possessed special identity, one that had become a source of torment.

I decided the time had come for deeper investigation into this mysterious Thalia. She might prove the key to breaking Draven and destabilizing the three Legions' balance—exactly the leverage I needed to advance our true agenda.