Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 92

Morgana

The amber candlelight danced across Garrick's features as I watched him lean forward, his eyes gleaming with desperate hunger for power. How perfectly malleable he had become, this brutish commander who believed himself my equal. I allowed a knowing smile to curve my lips, savoring the delicious irony of his ignorance.

"Incite unrest along the human borders," I purred, tracing a finger along the rim of my wine goblet. "Send your most trusted lieutenants to raid a village or two. Create bloody spectacles—make sure they leave clear evidence of werewolf involvement. Once the humans retaliate, the conflict will escalate naturally."

Garrick's expression shifted from anger to cunning delight, and he clapped his hands together with a harsh laugh. "Brilliant! When Adelaide's position becomes untenable as a human among wolves, Lycanthar will have to choose between protecting her and defending werewolf interests."

"Precisely." My eyes glittered with dangerous satisfaction. "And when that moment comes, your efforts to sway the tribal leaders will prove far more effective."

Standing gracefully, I retrieved a small vial from within my robes. The liquid inside glowed with an ominous crimson light, pulsing like a captured heartbeat. "Don't forget—it's time for your medicine."

Garrick snatched the vial eagerly, his pupils dilating at the sight of the shadowy blood. "Since I began drinking this, I feel my power growing stronger each day." He tilted his head back and drained the contents in one gulp, the dark red liquid trickling down his throat. "Given enough time, I'll surely be able to defeat Lycanthar and grind him beneath my heel!"

The moment the elixir entered his system, Garrick's eyes flashed with a deeper crimson hue. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as if something were trying to break free from within. I observed this transformation with profound satisfaction, my lips curving into a pleased smile.

*You're nothing but a tool, Garrick,* I thought while maintaining my gentle expression. *A soon-to-be-spent instrument paving the way for darkness.*

---

Adelaide

The persistent knocking at my chamber door roused me from sleep far earlier than I had planned. Dawn had barely broken when I heard Zaroka's boisterous voice calling through the heavy oak.

"Adelaide! Are you awake in there? The morning is wasting away!"

I hurriedly wrapped a robe around myself and opened the door to find the orc princess already fully dressed in leather hunting attire, her orange hair braided with small metal ornaments that caught the early light. Her eyes sparkled with unmistakable excitement.

"Your Highness," I said, stifling a yawn. "Is everything alright?"

"Better than alright!" Zaroka grinned broadly, showing her prominent canine teeth. "I want to experience true werewolf customs today—none of that formal banquet nonsense. Take me to your marketplace! I want to see how your people really live, what they eat, how they trade." She practically bounced on her feet. "I've heard werewolf markets are unlike anything in the orc territories."

I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Of course, Your Highness. Just give me a moment to dress appropriately."

"Hurry then!" she called as I retreated into my chamber. "And call me Zaroka—we're going to be friends, I can tell!"

Twenty minutes later, I found myself being pulled through the keep corridors by an impatient orc princess who seemed determined to explore every corner of werewolf society. As Lycanthar's future mate, I had the responsibility of hosting and accompanying her during her stay, but I hadn't expected such an energetic start to the day.

The bustling werewolf marketplace soon filled our senses with exotic scents and lively chatter as I hurried to keep pace with Zaroka's eager strides.

"Human, you walk too slowly!" Zaroka's voice rumbled like thunder across the market square. Her hair blazed like orange flames, whipping through the air with her rapid movement.

I jogged to catch up, silently grateful for choosing practical boots over ceremonial slippers. "I apologize, Your Highness. My legs aren't half as long as yours."

Zaroka suddenly stopped and turned to look down at me, then burst into hearty laughter. "You're amusing, little human! I like your honesty." She clapped my shoulder forcefully, nearly knocking me over. "Come, show me what werewolves typically eat. I heard you have a drink made from deer blood and honey?"

I led Zaroka through the crowded marketplace, stopping at a stall decorated with antlers. "This is 'Tears of the Red Stag,' one of the werewolves' most beloved beverages."

The vendor recognized me immediately and bowed respectfully. "Future Wolf Queen, what may I provide for you and your honored guest?"

"Two cups of your finest Tears of the Red Stag, please," I replied gracefully.

Zaroka accepted the fragrant red drink and drained it in one gulp, then smacked her lips in satisfaction. "Excellent! Much gentler than our bark wine." She looked around curiously. "Tell me, Adelaide, how did you transform from a human slave into the future Wolf Queen? That's hardly a common tale."

I answered cautiously, "Fate sometimes takes unexpected paths. The connection between the Wolf King and myself... was arranged by the Moon Goddess."

Zaroka nodded meaningfully. "Divine ways are indeed difficult to understand." She suddenly pointed to a weapons stall. "Look at that battle axe! Exquisite craftsmanship!"

I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the change of subject. We approached the weapons vendor, where Zaroka skillfully wielded various weapons, causing the merchant to retreat nervously.

"Do you know how to use weapons, little human?" Zaroka asked curiously, handing me a small dagger.

I accepted the blade and assumed a standard defensive stance. "I know some basics," I admitted, "but I'm nowhere near your level of expertise."

Zaroka laughed approvingly. "At least you know how to hold a knife! Better than those human girls who only know how to run." She suddenly lowered her voice. "Tell me, Draven's human girl—is she a warrior?"

I was surprised by the sudden shift in topic. "You mean Thalia? She's not a warrior, but she has other powerful gifts. She's a mage, skilled in ancient magic."

Zaroka considered this, then nodded. "Interesting. Draven has always been attracted to intelligent people." She picked up a battle axe, casually tossing and catching it. "I'm curious what kind of woman could make Draven give up a political marriage for her."

Just as I was considering how to respond, a familiar voice called from behind us: "Adelaide? I've been looking everywhere for you."

We turned to see Thalia standing there, wearing a simple light blue dress, her golden hair shining in the sunlight. She looked much better than she had in recent days—though still somewhat pale, her eyes had regained their sparkle.

"Thalia!" I rushed forward joyfully and embraced my friend. "Are you feeling better?"

Thalia smiled and nodded. "Much better. Draven told me you were showing Princess Zaroka around today, and I thought I might be able to help." Her gaze shifted to Zaroka with slight uncertainty as she offered a respectful curtsy.

Zaroka looked Thalia up and down appraisingly, her eyes gleaming with assessment. "So, you're the human girl who has Draven so distracted?" Obvious curiosity colored her voice.

Thalia blushed slightly. "I... I suppose I am." Though her voice was soft, it remained steady as she met Zaroka's gaze without flinching.

Zaroka suddenly laughed loudly and stepped forward to pat Thalia's back vigorously. "You're stronger than you look! I like that. Draven needs a mate who won't be intimidated by him."

Thalia seemed surprised by this unexpected praise but quickly displayed a genuine smile. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Call me Zaroka," the orc princess corrected. "We're all women who've been enchanted by these furry fellows—we should stick together!" She glanced around. "Is there good alcohol here? I'd like to chat more with both of you."

I suggested, "There's a quiet garden on the castle's south side with plenty of sunlight, and the kitchens can bring food and drinks there."

"Perfect!" Zaroka declared, then suddenly stopped, squinting at something in the distance. "Who is that?"

I followed her gaze and saw a woman in a deep red robe walking toward us. She moved with elegant grace, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, her beautiful face bearing an unsettling coldness.

My heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned. Something about this woman felt deeply wrong, though I couldn't quite place why. My instincts told me she was dangerous.