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41. The Funeral
Last Updated:
2024-05-18 03:51:09
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 42. Mithridatism
[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
Last Updated : 2024-05-23Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 43. The New Council
[MAGNUS]The moment I step into the council room, my attention is drawn to the painted ceiling. A ladder leans against the wall, atop which stand two humans engrossed in painting a blank section. A smirk touches my lips as I suppress a laugh. A victory over Wyvern—a small kingdom, barely a third the size of Caelondor—certainly doesn’t deserve to be immortalized there.Eldric sits in his regal chair at the center of the table, watching the painters with proud eyes. As soon as I take my seat, he regards me with his gruff yet cool voice, “Ah, nephew! How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence. The sand clock… give it to me.”He opens the palm of his bandaged hand. An unhealed wound? A battle wound? Eldric quickly withdraws his hand when he notices me studying it. He brings forward his other hand, and I carefully place the sand clock in it. Clear nervousness flickers across his face before he shakes it away.“Shall we begin?” Eldric asks the ministers seated quietly around the
Last Updated : 2024-05-23Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 44. The Execution
[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
Last Updated : 2024-05-24Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 45. Supper with the Brooks
[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
Last Updated : 2024-05-24Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 46. Reflections of a Prince
[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
Last Updated : 2024-05-28Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 47. The Letter
[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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[MAGNUS]A lump forms in my throat at the thought. Why do my ears feel like they’re burning?"Why?" I make myself ask."I'm not going to try anything. I'm not that woman." She lets go of my arm and clasps her hands together as she seems to choose her next words. Then, closing her eyes, she mutters in a single breath, "Because last night I woke up from a nightmare and thought someone was here. It morphed from Eldric to Morgana to Alec’s rogue face. And I’m scared.”"Alright," I say and slip under the blanket. When she blinks at me in shock mingled with relief, I wonder if I should say something more. Deciding that I’m not sure what I could possibly say, I turn my back to her with no intention of sleeping anytime soon.A few seconds later, the sheets rustle and she shifts, likely lowering herself on the bed, closing her eyes. But even after a couple of minutes pass, Elara’s breath doesn’t get steady.I do my best to hold back, but then the urge to turn around and talk to her, to find out
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[MAGNUS]It is close to midnight, and the air is thick with tension. Alistair and I navigate the labyrinthine hallways of the palace, each step measured, each breath controlled. The human soldiers, assigned to guard these very halls, lie in a careless slumber, their soft snores a dangerous symphony we dare not disturb. The dim glow of torches casts flickering shadows that dance on the cold stone walls, and Elara, her form shrouded in a dark cloak, follows silently, her footsteps almost ghostly.We reach the stables, the scent of hay and horses mingling with the cool night air. I pause, throwing a questioning glance at Elara. She has her eyes on me, her fingers pulling her cloak tighter around her slender frame. She’s not turning back. I can see it in the set of her jaw, the steel in her eyes.“Ready?” I ask, my voice a mere whisper but carrying the weight of the world.She nods firmly. “Ready,” she responds, her voice a soft murmur. Her hand lowers to her hip, where a dagger gleams in
Last Updated : 2024-06-03
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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
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 114. The Offering
[MAGNUS]Valen parts as if nothing has transpired between them—as if he didn’t just openly challenge me. He moves leisurely, as though this is his court, and not mine. A smirk ghosts his lips as he settles into one of the crowded rows, plucking a goblet of wine from a passing maid’s tray with effortless ease.His gaze doesn’t stray from Elara. He watches her as if she belongs to him. He dares to do this. Right in front of my eyes. In a castle I rule.Alistair steps forward to replace the bent chalice without a word. The wine’s poured again, but I no longer care to drink more. If the barrier in Elara’s chamber wasn’t breached, and Valen did not leave his chambers the whole night, when could he have given her the gift? And what did he give her? Before I can demand an answer from Elara, I’m interrupted by a lord whose name I do not recall. “Your Highness,” the human begins, bowing impressively low despite his age. “This humble servant has brought you an offering.”His voice draws Ela
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 113. A Feast of Fury
[MAGNUS]As the sun dips down the horizon, the Small Hall of the castle packs up with guests. Among the crowd are those who reside in the castle, lords and ladies from all corners of Tassel, and some from beyond the borders. And then there are the performers—the usual musicians, and the new dancers. And the bard—invited by Lord Valen. The air is already filled with lively music by the time I make my entry into the hall. I put on my persona—one I’ve perfected to please the masses, a mask that has efficiently erased my image as the crippled, wicked Prince of Caelondor, a name whispered across the continent. I smile, laugh, and greet people. It doesn’t matter who they are, they all get the same wide mouthed grin. They bow and curtsy. Others who are more touchy are removed by Alistair effortlessly. I don’t even sense her at first due to the shield. But she’s there, sitting on a chair behind the banquet table, hands clasped in her lap, looking ethereal in a golden and white gown. I forge
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 112. Caged Desires
[MAGNUS]To His Highness, the Rightful Heir,Your Highness,I pray this letter reaches you in safe hands, for I write in desperate times. The kingdom you once called home trembles under the weight of the false king’s rule. His greed knows no bounds—lands are seized without cause, coffers are drained by insatiable taxation, and noble blood is spilled for the mere crime of questioning his judgment. Once-loyal houses now stand divided as their heirs are taken as hostages, their warriors forced to fight in unwinnable wars against territories that were never our enemies. Your father’s kingdom is on the brink of ruin. The people whisper of rebellion, but they lack a leader to rally behind. Many among the nobility look not to the throne in the capital, but to the exiled prince, the rightful ruler, the son of a true king. If you would return, you would not stand alone. There are those of us willing to defy the tyrant and restore honor to the crown, even if he refuses to name you heir, we nee
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 111. A Rose and a Nightmare
[ELARA]I find myself on the shore of the Cursed Gulf yet again. The sky above me is the colour of flames—golden, orange, streaks of yellow and black, the world tilted on its axis in my perspective. My feet are hidden beneath the sand, but I don’t panic. Yet, I still wonder. Why am I back here again? My dreams haven’t been plagued by the Soulkeeper in months. Not since Valen taught me how to stop acknowledging its presence. I know I didn’t sleep with poison beneath my pillow last night.And I still am here, trapped in this nightmare. This is not real, I tell myself, willingly for this to fade, for me to wake. But it doesn’t happen. I suppose I will have to endure. And so I do. The boiling water of the sea lashes on the shore with each wave until it freezes, a cold mist enveloping me. This time when the Soulkeeper comes on his cog, his face isn’t hidden. No, the hood is drawn back, and staring right into my soul is the one red eye of Valen Blackbane. And despite everything I know a
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 110. Falling Into The Burn
[ELARA]Valen moves easily, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he is left in little more than a linen shirt, loose at the collar, and dark trousers that sit low on his hips. The candlelight casts long shadows over the ridges of his body, tracing over sharp angles and defined muscle, a reminder of what he is—what he can do—something I only had a glimpse of minutes ago. I watch, trying not to. Trying not to compare. And yet, I cannot stop myself from thinking of another man in another bed.Back in Caelondor, when Magnus cared, our chambers had been connected by a hidden passageway. I would slip through in the dead of night, and he would let me in without a word. He would wait for me to come. It was the place where I felt most safe. I would curl into the warmth of him, listening to his steady breaths. In those moments, I could almost pretend that our marriage was more than duty.I remember the way he would shed his royal armor piece by piece, leaving himself bare in ways he n
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 109. The Taste of Restraint
[ELARA]On any other night, I would have been cautious, wary of the vampire’s seductive pull, the way he ensnares his prey, just as mentioned in the passage. But tonight, the Burn eclipses reason, and every brush of Valen’s touch sets me alight, leaving me aching, craving.And he looks prepared to give me all I demand and more. Valen doesn’t need further assurance. His lips drag slowly from the curve of my shoulder, up my neck, to finally halt at my earlobe, nibbling it gently. My eyes roll to the back of my head as the sensation consumes me completely. I’m gasping, my breath shaky as I struggle to find something to do with my own hands, while his left arm snakes around the front of my waist, pressing my back against his hard body. The sound of his breath in my ear is maddening. It’s fast, irregular. A lot more intense than what breathing should sound like. He pauses from my ear, returning to press kisses to my shoulder only to push the sleeve of my shift down my arm with his teeth.
