Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 90

Thalia

I stirred from uneasy dreams as the setting sun cast long red streaks across my chamber floor. My head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. The magical backlash from the purification ritual had left me feeling hollow, as if some essential part of my spirit had been drained away.

"Again..." I whispered to the empty room, pressing my palms against my temples. "Perhaps the consequences of channeling divine magic are more severe than I anticipated."

The air in my chambers felt stifling and oppressive. I wrapped a thin silk shawl around my shoulders and moved slowly toward the balcony doors, desperate for fresh air. As I stepped outside, I drew a deep breath, but it did little to ease the weight settling over my heart. Since Draven had talked with Adelaide, though he'd withdrawn the guards and was no longer confining me, he hadn't come to see me once.

I gazed at the distant castle towers, my thoughts spiraling into darker territories. *Does he hate me so much that he can't bear to look at me? Or is he simply too busy with his duties to spare me a thought? Perhaps... perhaps he never wants to see me again.*

My fingers unconsciously traced the mark on my neck where Draven had claimed me as his mate. "I could have told him the truth sooner," I murmured, my voice thick with self-recrimination. "But I was afraid of losing him... and now I've lost him even more completely."

Just then, the sound of conversation drifted up from the gardens below, where two maids were pruning the rose bushes.

"Did you hear? That orc princess arrived today. I saw her myself—built like a fortress, more muscle than half our male warriors!"

"They say she's here to marry Commander Draven. A political alliance proposed by the orc chieftain himself."

"Makes sense, doesn't it? Now that the Wolf King has his Moon Bride, the three Legion Commanders should consider strategic marriages. The alliance with the orcs has always been crucial."

"Commander Draven is brave and powerful... the orc princess is a perfect match for him."

Each word struck me like a physical blow. The world tilted dangerously, and I stumbled backward, gripping the stone balustrade to keep from falling. Tears burned my eyes, but I stubbornly refused to let them fall.

*So this is how it ends?* The thought tasted bitter as poison. *We couldn't even withstand the test of truth, and now... are we going to end everything because of a political marriage?*

A chilling sense of dread washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by a stronger resolve. I couldn't just hide in my room and wallow in self-pity. If Draven was truly going to be with that orc princess, if our love was destined to be sacrificed for a political union, then I at least needed to see it with my own eyes and face this ending with dignity.

I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, and walked towards the wardrobe. I chose a simple yet elegant deep blue gown—not to compete with anyone's beauty, but to maintain my last shred of dignity. I carefully combed my hair and adjusted my appearance until the woman in the mirror no longer looked like a pitiful, abandoned soul.

"Father always said the path of a seer would be lonely," I whispered to my reflection, my voice steadier than I expected. "But he also taught me that true courage isn't the absence of fear, but moving forward despite it."

I gave my appearance one last check before heading to the door. Whatever awaited me, I needed to witness it firsthand. Even if my heart was about to shatter, I wouldn't hide away like a coward.

---

Adelaide

The great hall buzzed with activity as I supervised the final preparations for tonight's feast. I had spent hours researching orc customs, ensuring every detail honored their traditions. Deep crimson tablecloths replaced our usual silver, and I'd ordered the placement of carved boar heads and rough stone goblets throughout the hall. Orc totems symbolizing courage and strength adorned the walls.

When Lycanthar entered the hall, his eyes widened with surprise and approval. He crossed to me and took my hands in his warm grasp. "My little moon, you continue to exceed my expectations. Your attention to detail and respect for other cultures—this is exactly what a true Wolf Queen should possess."

I smiled, feeling a flutter of pride at his praise. "I only want to do my part for the alliance. Understanding and respect are the foundations of lasting peace."

As the evening progressed, guests began filing into the hall. Princess Zaroka commanded attention the moment she appeared, her leather armor adorned with bone ornaments and beast hide. Her confident bearing and powerful physique were impressive even by werewolf standards. She raised her goblet high and addressed Lycanthar and me with characteristic directness.

"To the great Wolf King and his wise and beautiful Moon Bride!" Her voice boomed across the hall. "The rumors prove true—the Wolf King has indeed found a mate with both intelligence and courage. I see the fire of a warrior in your eyes, Adelaide. That's rare among humans."

I lifted my goblet gracefully in response. "Thank you for your kind words, Princess Zaroka. Your own reputation for valor and honesty precedes you. The orcs' loyalty and strength are qualities any alliance would treasure."

Halfway through the feast, Zaroka approached Draven, inviting him to speak privately. She clapped his shoulder with enough force to make him sway slightly.

"Do you remember that campaign against the mountain trolls three years ago?" she asked with a broad grin. "You saved my life, used your own body to shield me from a blade meant for my heart. From that moment, I knew you were a warrior worthy of respect."

Draven nodded politely, though I could see the tension in his shoulders. "It was my honor, Princess. Any warrior would have done the same."

Zaroka laughed heartily. "But not any warrior could have continued fighting after taking that wound! My father and the tribal elders believe that someone of your strength and honor would make an ideal mate for me. A political marriage would cement our alliance, and I would be honored to be joined with you."

Draven's expression grew complex, and he chose his words carefully. "Princess Zaroka, I'm deeply honored by your favor. Your courage and forthright nature command admiration. But I must be honest—my heart already belongs to another."

Zaroka raised an eyebrow, her curiosity evident. "Oh? What manner of woman has won the heart of the First Legion Commander? She must be extraordinary indeed."

Something in Draven's demeanor shifted, his voice taking on a tender quality I'd rarely heard from the usually stern commander. "She is extraordinary. She has golden hair like sunlight woven into silk, and eyes as deep as the ocean that seem to see into one's very soul. But what captivates me most is her spirit... She possesses the power to heal any wound, whether of body or soul. Her wisdom and courage... in my darkest moments, it was her light that guided me forward."

Zaroka listened intently, then threw back her head and laughed, slapping Draven's shoulder again. "What a moving declaration! While it saddens me that we cannot be mates, seeing a warrior so moved by love is truly rare. I'm happy for you that you've found true love, Draven."

Her expression grew slightly concerned. "However, this marriage was carefully considered by my father and the tribal elders. They see it as the best guarantee of our alliance's strength. Canceling it... might create some political complications."

But Zaroka's good humor quickly returned. "Don't worry though! I'll find a way to convince my father. Perhaps I can tell him I need a mate who can defeat me in combat, then arrange a contest you're guaranteed to lose?"

Draven actually smiled at her directness and humor. "Thank you for your understanding, Zaroka. If there's anything I can do to help..."

The two were so engrossed in their lighthearted conversation that neither noticed the figure standing in the shadows near a marble pillar. It was Thalia. Her eyes glistened with complex emotions, tears threatening to spill in the flickering candlelight.