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39. A Diplomatic Dinner
Last Updated:
2024-05-15 17:32:23
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[ELARA]Dinner is a long affair, extending long past midnight. Platters of food are brought in to replace the empty ones. This is followed by recitation of tales from the battlefield—everyone praises King Eldric after every sentence is spoken. I realize there are commanders of the army among us. I’m not allowed to leave, nor do I get a chance to speak to Magnus as he is occupied in conversations with ministers. Somewhere during the night, Lady Celia requests to retire from the gathering. Ruelle does the same, repeating her mother’s words. I join in too, and thankfully, when King Eldric nods, we’re allowed to go. “You would’ve liked Kian,” Ruelle says sadly as she walks by my side. “He was a good man.”“He’ll be in a better place tomorrow. In the Goddess’ Meadow,” I say, hoping it will comfort her.‘Liar. You don’t even believe in an afterlife,’ Lila mocks me. Ruelle gives me a smile, which is sad too. Her blue eyes are exhausted, but her dark hair is still perfect. “I’ll see you in
Last Updated : 2024-05-17Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 41. The Funeral
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[MAGNUS]“Aren’t you done yet, Magnus?” Nyra’s honeyed voice echoes in the blurry room as she shifts her bare body on the cushioned bench, a teasing look twinkling in her brown eyes. All of her dark curls are parted to one side of her body, that extend from her head to the curve of her waist. “Don’t move, love,” I tell her as I focus on bringing her beauty on the canvas in front of me. It’s hard—not only to focus on painting her when she’s naked in front of me, but also to truly bring every detail on the canvas. “You’re beautiful, Nyra,” the words left my mouth without my notice. She chuckles, her figure disintegrating only to fit back up again like pieces of a puzzle. “Kiss me then,” she commands. The corners of my vision blur a little more. “Come to me,” I tell her as I begin to walk towards her. But with every step I take forward, more distance is created between us. “Come to me, Nyra,” I repeat myself impatiently, now running towards her. But she moves further and further away
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[ELARA]The crowd in the palace courtyard forms a restless sea of faces, each etched with curiosity and grim anticipation. I stand at a distance beneath a stall roof reserved for the royal family's viewing of executions, should they choose to attend. At my side is Magnus, his shoulders tense, lips sealed in anger. He clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly, struggling to maintain composure.Silent, he stares straight ahead, fixated on the gray stone slab where Morgana will meet her fate today. As the hour approaches, the crowd's murmurs fade into tense silence. The creak of scaffold steps draws my attention, and I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the condemned woman being led forward. My breath catches as I recognize Morgana, once a woman of strong will and sharp intellect, now reduced to a trembling figure in a tattered red gown, her black hair disheveled.Morgana’s lips move frantically, but no words escape. She stumbles, the guard at her side tightening his grip, almost drag
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[ELARA]I have no mind for supper or even for plain conversation with anyone, but when Lady Brook shows up outside my chamber, I have no choice but to go with her, my actions wrapped in a facade of politeness. Her consistent efforts are commendable, but they make me uneasy, even though her smiles always seem genuine and heartfelt.Her chamber in the palace is spacious, showcasing little in the way of furniture or luxury, yet it is pleasing to the eyes. Lord Brook is there too, sitting in one corner of the chamber, his head bent over papers as he pretends to focus on them. However, every time I glance at him, I find his eyes on me with a creepy look that makes my skin crawl.The cozy chamber is illuminated by the gentle glow of a few well-placed candles, prepared for a small, intimate supper. A small, round table is draped in a fine linen cloth embroidered with delicate patterns of vines and flowers. At its center, a single silver candelabrum holds three beeswax candles, their warm ligh
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[MAGNUS]The air in the palace has been cold and hollow since Morgana's execution. As I walk the corridors, the weight of her absence presses on my shoulders like a cloak of iron. The echoes of her final croaked screams haunt the walls, and every time I close my eyes, I see her severed head being dangled before the crowd. Her eyes, once so full of fire and determination, now lifeless and cold. The memory is a torture, one that I cannot escape.Another death in my name. Another person whose life ended because they supported me. And I could do nothing to protect her. Is this what I am? A weak prince, incapable of protecting my subjects? Why do I even deserve to become king someday?No matter how much I prepare, Eldric is always one step ahead. He works immorally. Nothing holds him back; he'd do anything to keep himself in power. And it is this power that lets him do anything.No one dares question this execution. No one asks why a trial was never held before the sentence was passed. No
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[MAGNUS]I’m not going to finish writing this letter tonight. I know it. Every few seconds, I glance up from the scroll into the dark night through the open window—thinking of Ruelle, Morgana, and the last words Lady Celia spoke to me: "If anything happens to my daughter, I will not forgive you."If anything happens to Ruelle, I will never be able to forgive myself. Maybe that will be the last event that will divert my cause. I’ll retire to the Great Woods and find a place in the independent packs, leaving this Goddess-forsaken life of royalty behind. Maybe that is what I should do now before I lose anyone else.The face of my mother flashes across my mind—disappointed. She never taught me to give up.I must avenge the lives of my father, Nyra, and now Morgana. Eldric will suffer a fate worse than death, one he deserves.“What are you doing, Magnus?” Elara’s soft voice reaches me through the stilled darkness of the chamber. She’s leaning on her elbows, looking up from the bed at me, wh
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[ELARA]The bard is not the same man today.Had no one told me it was him—and had I not watched him so closely the night before—I might’ve sworn it was someone else entirely.I suppose madness does that. Warps a person from the inside out. Just last night, he was dressed in fine silks, the very picture of elegance and confidence—charming enough to rival Magnus at his most dazzling. Now? He’s tied to a pillar in Thornhall’s courtyard like a spectacle.He thrashes wildly, laughter cracking through the air in bursts, each followed by guttural cries that scrape the throat raw. But it’s not the noise that sends a chill down my spine.It’s the pearls.A strand of them, strung neatly around his neck—eerily similar to the one I shattered. The one Valen claimed belonged to Raelynn.I take an instinctive step back.“Who painted his lips?” Lady Brook’s voice comes from beside me, thin and sharp. Her hand clutches her throat as if she’s afraid the color might stain her own skin. Her hair, usually
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 122. Tainted
[ELARA]“Magnus,” I call out. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t even pause. The door slams shut behind him, and something inside me breaks. My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, fingers twisting into the fabric of my robe like it can change reality. My lungs can’t find air. It’s like they’re stitched shut.‘You’re panicking,’ Lila says. ‘You must breathe.’But I can’t. I can’t.My hands fly to my throat, clawing at the skin like I can scrub the shame away. My nails scrape across Valen’s bite marks, and the moment my fingers graze them, guilt sinks in like a slow-moving poison.What have I done?He wasn’t lying.I saw it in his golden eyes—saw it when the shield fell between us, when truth flooded that brief second of silence. Magnus hadn’t been with anyone. Not in these long, aching months.Not once.But I had believed wrongly.And it led me to—Lila speaks again, ‘It wasn’t just that. You know it wasn’t.’I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head, biting down
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 121. The Mate I Cannot Claim
[MAGNUS]Setting her free—as she says it—is not going to end my misery. If anything, it’ll make me even more miserable. I don’t hate Elara. I could never hate her. The day I start hating her is the day I lose all control over myself. And the day I lose all control of myself is the day I lose her. So I can’t accept her as my mate. I can't get through the ritual and let the bond strengthen. I can’t mark her, can’t make her mine, not until I have eradicated all of my enemies. Until Eldric lies cold in his grave. One more loss… and there will be no going back. Creed’s agony will consume me, break my mind until I’m left as nothing but a hollow shell. Elara stands there looking utterly broken, crying as if there’s no strength left in her. And it is all my fault. Whatever anger I feel, the urge to burn the world to the ground, the desire to see Valen crushed to a pulp—I push it all aside. Lock it inside a part of my mind where I stash all of my irrational thoughts. Valen fed on her, I
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 120. His Wife
[ELARA]Magnus barges in, cutting through the space with quick strides and startling Edith. “Leave,” he tells Edith, not even sparing her a glance. That single word is enough to tell me that he has come here with boiling blood. I don’t even need to consider the fury in his golden eyes. Edith swallows hard, and scurries off but not before tossing me a fleeting look. There’s prayer in her eyes. She is unaware that nothing can save me from Magnus’ wrath. For a moment, silence lingers—a kind where you can hear the sounds of our hearts racing. Stupidly, I stare at Magnus’ face too long, and my chest tightens with an odd feeling. Something that feels a lot like longing. ‘Tread carefully,’ Lila warns. “So you’ve finally come,” I say, nonchalantly running my fingers through my hair as I turn my back on him and walk to the mirror. “You deceived me into thinking you had no idea where my chamber was.”How much does he know? I wonder as I sit down on the bench, staring at my reflection. He’s
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 119. The Vampire's Offer
[ELARA]I stare at the ceiling, breathing a little too loud. I’m aware of the sweat covering my naked body, of the puncture wounds on my neck that are still blazing, eliciting waves of pleasure although Valen is no longer feeding on me. The desire to curl up and close my eyes and shut myself from the world feels too overwhelming. What have I done?A slow breath drifts against my shoulder.I go still.He’s awake.Heat creeps up my neck, shame curling in my stomach. I don’t dare look at him. If I do, I’ll see it—the smug amusement in his expression, the satisfaction, the knowing.I close my eyes, as if I can will myself back into ignorance. As if I can pretend I didn’t just let Valen—the last person I should have touched—consume me whole.“You're thinking too much,” his voice breaks the silence. It’s unbothered. I flinch.He chuckles. “I can hear it, you know. That frantic little heartbeat of yours.”My fingers curl into the sheets, my breath catching. “Go away,” I murmur.Valen shif
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 118. Blood and Desire
[ELARA]Something tells me Valen knows I’m here, and that I’m watching him, but doesn’t stop. “What do you think you are doing?” I hiss at him when I finally find my voice again, daring myself to walk closer. He glances at me leisurely, licking his bloodied lips as he lifts his head from her neck. “I was hungry,” he says with a shrug, and casts Tara aside like a doll. She leans against the wall, the euphoric smile on her face still lingering. “You look… displeased.”I hesitate. I did not think I would Tara here. I really believed she was with Magnus. “She’s our guest,” I whisper, my fingers twitching to reach her, to check if she’s okay—but I don’t. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to touch her. Not when she looks like she’s floating in some distant bliss. “You can’t harm her.”Valen cocks his head slightly, amused. “Harm?” He gestures lazily at Tara’s boneless form. “Does she look harmed to you?”I scoff. “You—” I swallow, forcing air into my lungs. “You drank her blood.”He smirks,
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 117. The Stable boy
[ELARA]I notice, somewhere between the refilled goblets and the swelling melody of the Bard’s latest song, that Magnus is gone. And Alistair with him. Not that I was informed about it. The feast carries on without them. The Bard, ever the showman, soaks in the attention, strumming his lute with a smirk that suggests he’s well aware of the effect he has on the court. Thornhall has something new to play with tonight. The dancers sit sulking in a corner, forgotten. The musicians find themselves disagreeing with the songs. “I will bed this man tonight,” Lady Brook announces, her words thick with drink as she leans forward, nearly spilling from her seat.I arch a brow. “The Bard?”“Who else?” she breathes, eyes heavy-lidded. “Look at him. That mouth was made for more than singing.”“That’s ambitious.” I huff a quiet laugh, lifting my goblet to my lips. “Don’t let Edith know.”“If I had a mother like that—” she begins with a lazy grin, then downs the rest of her wine. “What do you think
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 116. Burning for the Enemy
[ELARA]“Did you enjoy the ballad, Your Highness?” Valen’s teasing voice curls around me, his amusement barely concealed. He rises from his seat with effortless grace, extending his hand as if he knew—knew—I would come to him. “I worked with the man himself to craft it.”Every movement in the hall slows. A royal woman should not do this. A wife should not do this. The weight of a hundred eyes presses upon me, mouths whispering, hands tightening around goblets—a scandal. But let them watch. Let them see what their beloved prince has wrought. Let them murmur about the disgrace of Magnus’ mate, the woman who was meant to stand at his side.I take Valen’s hand. His skin is cooler than Magnus’, his grip lighter, but no less commanding.“Do not speak,” I say, my voice a blade, and he only grins.“Remember when I told you last night that when you command me, you’re even—”I cut him off. “Will you dance with me or not?” My words are steel-wrapped velvet, laced with something desperate and rec
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 115. A Fool for the Last Time
[ELARA]I want to leave. No—storm off. Let every guest see, let them know I do not stand by their beloved Prince, their cold and callous Magnus. Let them whisper about the insult, the blatant disrespect. I would not care. I want them to see. I want him to see.How dare he? How dare he shatter my heart so effortlessly, as if it were made of glass? If this is his response—if this is how he welcomes another into his arms so easily, so publicly—then what has he done in the quiet of the past five months? How many nights has he spent like this, without hesitation, without guilt?I knew Talisa—Morgana… kept him company, but I thought… no more. Not since he learned what we are to each other. Not since he learned I am his mate. But now my heart burns, set upon a spit, roasting in the heat of my own foolishness.I told myself he wouldn’t. That he couldn’t. But I see now—I was wrong. I was so wrong.And I kept Valen away because it was him I thought of. Even when Valen’s hands traced my skin, I
