Marriage Alliance With The Lycan Monarch
Chapter 22: Play With The Beasts

Chapter 22: Play With The Beasts

"What?!" The Dowager slammed her palm on the table, the mere force causing it to shake, and a crack marred the surface.

The teacup Sloane was holding snapped to pieces as the hot tea spilled on her hand, but she remained unfazed. "Oh my, my grip must have been too tight."

"My lady!" Her handmaid rushed to her aid with a towel to wipe the stain.

Tsk! Liar. The look on her face said otherwise. She was smiling on the surface, but even I could see through that mask. She was fuming.

I smirked discreetly, taking a sip from my tea. I eyed the Dowager, who remained blinded by fury.

"That is impossible!" The Dowager’s sharp tone broke through. "You lie, there is no way you could have survived. Do you take me for a fool?"

I dropped the teacup on the saucer, my face downcast, conjuring the most miserable look I could muster. "No, Your Majesty. It happened so quickly, and he was gentle all through, even though I didn’t believe I would survive the night. He kept whispering loving words to me, telling me he enjoyed me." I sighed hopelessly. "It was a very long night."

The Dowager looked as if she wanted to rip my throat open now.

Perhaps I went too far? Not even close.

"I do understand how our marriage is not approved. You show me kindness, Dowager, to at least let me stay and not send me away...Even though I’ve been compromised."

I spared a look at Sloane, and her features had paled. Now that look was pleasing to see, I couldn’t help mentally cackling like a witch.

This wouldn’t have worked, of course, but what better lie to tell? Drevon hadn’t been here for years; he was probably like a stranger to them.

Solemn silence filled the room. I wondered if they were the ones mute now, not until Sloane broke the tension with a soft voice.

"Y-Your Majesty, let Lady Eloise retire to her bed chamber, she must be tired."

"Leave my sight," the Dowager said in a quiet, deadly tone.

It screamed on her face, how much she was debating letting me walk out of here alive.

I was frightened, but I could see the way she clenched her fist in restraint and how her eyes gave a silver glow.

She was controlling herself.

I pushed off my chair, replenished with an energy of victory, though a small one, but entirely welcoming.

I curtseyed to the Dowager, turned on my heels, and without looking back, I stepped out of the room, the doors slamming shut behind me.

Garrick walked to me the moment he saw me, but I spared him no glance as I walked the corridors, having no idea where I was going, but I was in a hurry to get as far from this wing as possible.

"Your Grace?"

I didn’t reply, a dark look taking over my features. From one hell to another. The way the Dowager looked at me, I may have walked out of this alive, but there was no telling what she would do next.

This meeting was no dutiful greeting of the in-laws; she called me out to play. I prefer to call it play because that is what it was. I grew up with nobles, with a trickster for a stepsister, and a stepmother who always reminded me of my place every chance she got.

I knew the feeling of the power of submission like the back of my hand, and these plays? It was like the daily routine of my life for twenty miserable years.

What happened in that room was no different. But unlike ceasing to exist like I have done all this time—I chose to play.

Why? The answer was simple: being treated like trash for so many years has gotten me fed up.

Superior beings my ass. They were arrogant beasts! Who the heck decided they were superior?

I halted my step instantly. And Drevon? I would have given anything for him to be, as the rumors said, a cruel, mindless monarch, not one who would toy with my feelings like a morning breakfast.

"Your Grace."

"Sir Garrick," I said in an icy cold. "Are you aware the monarch was betrothed?"

When he didn’t say anything, I turned to him, and there was a bewildered look on his face.

"There is no need to deny it," I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Lady Sloane was so kind to tell me."

"There must be—"

I didn’t wait for him to finish as I continued my walk, but my steps slowed as a sharp ringing took over my ears. I held the wall for support.

I heard muffled sounds, and I assumed Garrick was speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear or see anything.

My breathing shuddered as I tried to expel air; there was prickly pain in my throat rising and urging me to claw at it to get relief, but I resorted to coughing instead. Brutally painful, my chest was hurting with each pressure, squeezing, and attempting to suffocate me.

I stopped, temporarily feeling relieved. When I lifted my gaze, Garrick was looking right at me, a wave of concern plastered across his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, repulsed by it.

I didn’t get the answer to my question because I found it out myself. My gaze descended to my hand smeared in red.

Oh no.

"I-I need to get back to my room." I tried to walk past him, but he blocked my way.

"Move!"

"No, you’re not well."

"I’m fine."

"You don’t look so. I must—"

"I said I’m fine!" I yelled, more panicking than angry.

No one should see me like this, no—.

The scratchy sensation came again, and this time I coughed harder until I didn’t have the energy to do so. My body lost gravity, my brain signaling me that I was about to meet the cold ground, but I never felt the texture, and everything else faded away.

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