Chapter 227
Elara’s POV
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I had no choice but to keep silent. The sound of his voice still echoed in my mind, a cold reminder of what Dorian would do if I didn’t comply. “We’ll talk when you’re ready to accept the mate bond,” he’d said, his words heavy with threat.
I knew what it meant. He was ready to lock me away in this room forever if I refused. No food. No water. Just darkness until I faded away, my body succumbing to hunger.
A shiver ran through me as I wiped his mark from my skin. The cold air made me feel even more exposed, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that. My mind was elsewhere.
Thorne. Did he miss me? Was he thinking about me the way I was thinking about him?
Would he even know about the baby?
I pressed my hand to my stomach, wondering if it was a boy or a girl. I had to focus on that, on the small, fleeting joy of imagining my child. It was all I could hold onto, something to block out the overwhelming dread creeping up my spine.
The silence stretched on, but it didn’t last as long as I feared. Faint voices filtered through the thick walls. I moved toward the door, desperate to hear more.
The iron chain rattled as I tried to reach it, but it was too short. I pressed my ear against the door, straining to listen.
“…The werewolves set fire to our forest last night,” an old voice said, and the words carrying faintly through the room. “They must have been desperate, trying to clear the fog with fire.”
“Idiots,” Dorian scoffed. “Let them burn the entire forest down. It won’t change a thing. The fog will still be there.”
“Are we just going to let them do this, my king?” someone asked, a note of concern in their voice. “Our people are frightened. Maybe it’s time to take action?”
“Action?” Dorian’s voice was as cold as ice. “You want me to declare war on them?”
“No, of course not,” another voice replied hastily. “But you’re marrying a werewolf princess. The idea was to unite the two species. The werewolves should be our subjects, not our enemies. Perhaps we should send Princess Elara to talk to her people.”
I bit my lip, suppressing a snort of disbelief. They all thought I had willingly come here, that I was on their side. They had no idea that I’d been taken against my will.
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Chapter 227
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Dorian’s voice cut through my thoughts. “No.”
“But, my king-”
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“I said no,” Dorian interrupted. “We fight back. The Lycans are strong, but they will understand their place after a good battle.”
A long silence followed, only broken by murmurs of agreement.
“Where is Princess Elara?” an elder asked, his voice more hesitant than the others.
I froze.
The elders had no idea I was locked away. They thought I was in my room, playing the dutiful bride.
I had to do something. I had to scream for help.
“HELP!” My voice cracked as I shouted, the desperation nearly choking me. My fists pounded weakly against the stone wall. “SOMEONE HELP!”
The room next door fell silent for a moment, and then a voice asked, “What’s that noise?”
Dorian chuckled. “Oh, it’s just my kitten. She’s a little jumpy after the change of scenery.”
I wanted to scream again. Kitten? He was calling me his kitten? My skin crawled at the word.
“She needs to be taught discipline,” Dorian added, his voice dripping with amusement.
“About Princess Elara,” someone else asked, “Is she well?”
“She’s in my room,” Dorian replied casually. “A bit exhausted, my fault. But don’t worry, she’s perfectly fine.”
I clenched my fists, biting my lip to stop myself from retorting. He had no idea how much I hated him, but I couldn’t let him see it. Not yet.
The conversation moved on, the elders talking about patrols and military strategy, but all I could think about was the cold, dead look in Dorian’s eyes.
When they finally left, I heard Dorian’s footsteps again, followed by the scraping sound of furniture being moved. My heart skipped a beat. I knew what was coming next.
The door opened. Dorian stood there, a smirk on his face, the dark study behind him.
“Enjoying the show?” he asked, his eyebrow raised.
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Chapter 227
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I kept my gaze on the floor, not daring to meet his eyes. “I didn’t hear anything.”
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His sneer deepened. “Liar. You heard everything.” He walked closer, his hand brushing my hair, too gentle for my liking. “Now you know our plans. Don’t you want to tell Thorne about them?”
I swallowed hard, staying silent. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my anger.
“You want to, but you can’t,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re locked here with me… forever.”
His hand lingered on my head, a mock gesture of affection. He kissed my forehead, and I flinched, disgust crawling up my spine.
“When you accept the mate bond, my love,” he continued in that sickeningly sweet tone, “I’ll set you
free. You’ll be my queen. Thorne will be out of your life for good. No more wars, no more sacrifices. Everyone will be happy.”
Everyone but me, I thought bitterly. The idea of losing Thorne–of losing everything–was suffocating.
“I need more time to think,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve had enough time already.”
I repeated it, my voice firmer this time. “I need more time.”
He straightened, and I could see the rage building in him. Without another word, he turned and left the room, only to return moments later with a small box in his hands.
He dropped it in front of me, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Open it.”
I lifted the lid, my hands trembling.
A werewolf’s head stared back at me, its glassy eyes unblinking.
I gasped, nearly choking on the bile rising in my throat. The blood drained from my face as I recognized the fur. It wasn’t Thorne, but it didn’t matter. It was one of his soldiers. Another life lost because of me.
“We attacked their camp last night,” Dorian said, his tone casual, as if discussing a trivial matter. “This was a trophy. You really think Thorne will make a difference? He’s one man, surrounded by lowborn soldiers. Thousands will die in a war. You’re their Gamma. Show some empathy.”
I couldn’t stop the fury that built inside me. “You killed them!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “You’re responsible for this!”
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Chapter 227
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Dorian smiled cruelly. “And you had a chance to stop it. But you didn’t. Now the blood is on your hands.”
I closed my eyes, the tears stinging my lids, but I wouldn’t let them fall. It wasn’t my fault. It
wasn’t.
He turned to leave, his voice trailing behind him. “Think if you must. But remember–the longer you wait, the more people will die.”
When the door slammed shut, I collapsed against the wall, my breath ragged. The head in the box seemed to stare at me, mocking me, reminding me of my failure.
And just like that, everything felt even darker than before.
A few hours later, the door creaked open again. Dario stepped inside, holding a candle and a plate of sandwiches.
He set the plate down in front of me, his eyes shifting awkwardly as he noticed my state.
“You’re still here,” I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely more than a breath. “Sorry… about earlier.”
Dario gave a small, uncomfortable smile and took off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I murmured, grateful but ashamed. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess. Just like the dead soldiers.
He hesitated for a moment before asking, “Why didn’t you tell the King about the baby?”
I looked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. The truth hung heavy on my tongue, but I couldn’t speak it. Not yet.
I
AD
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