Divorce The Duke, Marry The King!
Chapter 84: The biting

Chapter 84: The biting

Back at the banquet, Belle found herself unable to keep her eyes from straying toward the lady seated before her. A quiet scoff escaped her lips as she noted their striking resemblance. Was this some twisted declaration? She wondered. Was he trying to tell the world that she belonged to him, or was there some other motive behind this display?

"This is beginning to resemble an obsession," Hezekiah remarked, drawing Belle’s attention away from the scene and back toward the grand hall.

"I do hope you do not assign meaning to every little thing," Quinn interjected, his voice laced with amusement. With a wide, self-satisfied smile, he dropped his gaze upon Belle, his smirk deepening at her evident displeasure. His intention was clear, to show Hezekiah that no matter his efforts, Belle’s heart was a conquest he would never claim.

"Let us move on," Belle said, swiftly entwining her fingers with Hezekiah’s and offering him a smile that fooled no one. Hezekiah saw through her pretense with ease. He knew she was battling a tempest within, but for once, he chose selfishness over consideration. Why should he bear the weight of her emotions while she remained oblivious to his own?

"Lord Sparrow, a widower," Hezekiah continued, introducing Belle to the many distinguished guests in attendance. By the time he was done, she had been acquainted with more people than she could remember.

Belle longed to ask why the gathered nobles did not collectively acknowledge the king, but she held her tongue. This was a werewolf kingdom, after all, things were bound to differ. It was strange enough that Hezekiah does not wear a crown; she would not be surprised if there were countless other peculiarities yet to be uncovered.

Before long, the banquet’s main event commenced. Servants brought forth the first course of the evening, and as the feast unfolded, Belle’s attention was drawn to a peculiar sight—well-dressed young boys and girls being paraded before the nobles. One by one, they were bid upon.

At first, she assumed they were prisoners of war, perhaps rebels awaiting punishment. But that theory crumbled the longer she observed. ’Why are they so young?’ She thought, her unease growing. The more she watched, the deeper her disgust took root.

"Is this some sort of tradition?" She asked, her voice tinged with irritation as the realization dawned upon her. This was nothing more than a slave auction. Young lives being sold off like mere possessions.

"Yes," Hezekiah replied with indifference. "Whenever we capture people from war, we make them our slaves. Some find their way up in society, but others... remain bound for life."

Belle’s stomach churned at his words. It was not merely the act itself that sickened her, but the casual way in which he spoke of it, as if it were no more than a common practice.

"How can you justify this?" She challenged, staring at him with unwavering intensity. "These people are not at fault. They did not ask for this war, nor did they choose to be on the losing side. Why not simply let them go?"

Hezekiah met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "It has always been this way. It is not about who is at fault; it is about who wins. Do you truly believe the other side would grant us mercy were our positions reversed?"

Belle exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Perhaps someone must be the bigger person," she countered, her voice rising slightly. "You cannot enslave children and call it victory."

Had it not been for the elevated placement of the king’s seat, the entire hall would have heard her outburst.

"Belle, even if I wished to change tradition, I cannot stand against the Twelve Elders and the Council of Fair and Just Society. It would be an ordeal, and even then, it might not be approved. This practice has existed for millions of years." Hezekiah’s voice was calm, almost pleading, as he tried to make her understand.

"This isn’t about you changing it," Belle countered, her tone sharp. "It’s about acknowledging that it is wrong and should be stopped. Do you even believe that it is?"

"No, I do not," he admitted without hesitation.

Belle scoffed, leaning back in her chair. "Of course you don’t." She shook her head, disappointment flashing in her eyes. "I should have known better than to expect anything different from you." Rising from her seat, she turned toward the exit. "I will be outside. I need some air."

Hezekiah watched her leave before running a hand through his hair, groaning in frustration. Why now? Just when he had finally been given a chance with her, why did they have to be at odds? Did she even realize what she was asking of him? He had been raised with these traditions, conditioned never to question them. How could he, a king, challenge the very foundation of their society? And if she knew everything about him... if she learned of his past... would she abandon him?

His gaze drifted back to the ongoing auction. The captives looked frail, far too young, their malnourished bodies barely standing beneath the weight of their circumstances. Seeing them, he realized Belle’s point might be slightly justified. What harm could they possibly bring to flesh-eating beasts like them? A question that never before entered his mind now refused to leave.

Outside the hall, Belle inhaled deeply, taking in the cool night air. The entrance was far from the quiet refuge she had hoped for—too many people lingered, chatting in small groups. Not in the mood for conversation, she turned back inside, scanning the hall for another way out.

A relieved sigh escaped her lips when she spotted a secluded corridor. Without hesitation, she slipped into it, her thoughts churning with frustration. If these werewolves could so boldly sell humans, what other horrors were waiting to be uncovered? The large, diverse crowd at the banquet made sense now, it had all been for the bidding. Disgusting. Oppressive bastards, feeding on humans as if it were their right.

She turned a corner, only to be assaulted by an unwanted memory of Quinn, shamelessly fucking a maid. Her stomach twisted, and she quickly pivoted, unwilling to witness another distasteful scene.

But before she could take another step, a firm grip seized her wrist, yanking her into the shadowed passageway.

A gasp escaped her lips, but before she could scream, a hand clamped over her mouth. Another arm wrapped around her waist, pressing her against the cold stone wall.

"Shhh." A voice, smooth and teasing, brushed against her ear. "I don’t mind a scandal, but you do."

Her eyes squinted as they adjusted to the dim light, focusing on the figure before her. Recognition struck like lightning.

Without hesitation, she sank her teeth into his hand.

"Ah!" He hissed, jerking back, though his smirk never faltered. He cradled his hand to his chest, feigning injury. "Let me do the biting next time." His voice dripped with playful mischief.