Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Kayla’s Pov
“Good morning, Lady Kayla,” came Moira’s voice—too chipper.
I didn’t move from the bed. My body lay there like a shell, my limbs heavy with defeat. I blinked at the sliver of sunlight beginning to spill into the room.
Go away. That was what I wanted to say, but I couldn't bring myself to care now that she had already drawn the first curtain.
If there was no better way of escaping, everything would end once I failed at my duty. The thought made something in my chest constrict painfully. Not to mention, outside my window, there were guards this time. I’d practically watched them all night and not once was there a shift.
I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes when she drew the second curtain open. "How low do I have to sink before I can be regarded?" I muttered, not sure if I was speaking to her or to myself.
Even my voice was rough from disuse.
She’d ignored my demand not to open the curtains, again.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” Moira said as she flung the last curtains open. More light rushed in. “But it's nearly noon. I would've come sooner, but palace preparations delayed me.”
“Preparations?” I asked, finally pushing myself to sit upright, the silk sheets pooling around my waist while a dull ache bloomed in my bones. “What sort of preparation?"
She hesitated, as if gauging how much she should reveal. “There’s been unusual activity. Word is, we’re expecting someone. A dignitary perhaps, though nothing official was said.”
__Well, it seems that bastard jerk has the tendency to always keep things to himself until he needs to drag someone to match their roles_
“Wonderful,” I said dryly. “Another surprise.” Oh, well, we’ll find out soon enough.
Moira clapped her hand then smiled charmly and approached the bed. “Also… the King requested your presence by his side at supper tonight. He had these brought for you. They were all specially hand-picked by him.”
The door opened again. Three other maids swept in, carrying bundles of fabric. They laid the gowns at the foot of my bed—rich velvets and silks, all in shades of violet and wine. I stared at them, incredulous. What the actual fuck? Last I checked, the dressing room was already filled with unworn dresses, and now new ones? God! He was just too full of himself.
My jaw clenched. “Let me get this straight. He handpicked these?”
Moira nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
I scoffed. “Of course he did. As if I’d gift-wrap myself in his chosen colors just to sit at his side and smile for a guest I haven’t even heard of again.”
Moira shifted uncomfortably. "Um—"
“Don’t answer that,” I muttered. “Just… don’t. They weren't meant for you.”
She cleared her throat. “Would you like me to check your wound?”
“No need. It healed.” Thankfully. It had been shallow enough, and the doctor’s concoction had worked—so far. Werewolf healing had its advantages, even if my abilities weren't as powerful as those of a Lycan. But if it had been lower, I might be coughing up blood by now.
“The King also instructed us to make sure you’re… taken care of today.”
I rolled my eyes. Is that his idea of a conversation? Ordering people to fuss over me until I feel like a pampered prisoner?
Oh, what a day this is going to be. I can feel it already.
“There's no need for such.”
“My lady, we only mean to help—”
“I’m an adult not a child, Moira, if I need your assistance I’ll call for you, now, I don't. I don’t need help getting dressed or breathing. Just wait outside the door.”
They lingered, clearly unsure whether to obey or plead.
“It’s still noon, so leave me be. Now.”
They filed out silently, and I waited until the door closed before I allowed myself to fall back onto the bed. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyelids until I saw stars, trying to push back the tears that threatened to fall.
So this was really going to be my life now?
I wasn't some fragile, weeping maiden who would break at the first sign of hardship. I had survived my former pack. I had survived the Pit. That was what I wanted to think, but I was afraid.
I hadn't locked myself in, not truly. I just needed a moment to gather what was left of my dignity. A moment to remember I was still alive. Still breathing.
And the King hadn’t acted otherwise. Which meant the doctor had kept her promise. I was safe—for now.
Eventually, I emerged. Moira stood patiently outside, clasping her hands before her. The other maids had gone. She must have sent them away.
“You’re not dressed,” she said gently.
“I’ve still got time. When is supper?”
“Moonrise hour,” she replied.
“What is that in actual numbers, Moira?”
“Nine o’clock, my lady.”
I sighed. “You people really need to stop being poetic and just say the damned time.”
She chuckled nervously. “Apologies.”
Despite myself, I found a corner of warmth in her voice. Since the incident with the guard, I’d kept a careful distance from everyone. But Moira stayed by my side. May not be loyal to me, but she was there. Not like the maids in my former pack that lived to make me suffer. I may be a prisoner here but she still smiled at me like I was truly her employee.
And since I wasn't planning on running away yet again—not when every step beyond this palace meant death—I might as well get friendly with the few allies I had.
I glanced toward the hallway. “I need air. Walk with me.”
The palace gardens were in full bloom, a riot of colors against the carefully manicured green lawns. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of fresh flowers, then exhaled slowly.
"What sweet winds," I murmured. Watched a bird fly across and wished I could be that free. "But yeah, fuck that. After last night, I'm done. I don't think I care anymore."
Moira tilted her head. “Shall I fetch some tea, my lady? I could have it brought to the garden pavilion. You seem to like that spot.”
I do?
Still, that sounded… nice. Strangely nice. “Fine. Just don’t bring anyone else.”
She nodded, but before she could leave—
“Don’t care about what?” came a voice behind me.
I turned.
Vivian.
Her long blond hair glinted like silk in the sun, and her lips curved into something between pity and arrogance.
“Oh, the thorns,” I muttered, much to myself, but her next words told me she heard them.
“I’m flattered. Though also mildly offended. I’ve only ever tried to help you.”
What nonsense.
“Help me?” I laughed, bitter and short. “Either I’m still asleep, or your version of help is more like watching someone drown and offering advice instead of a rope.”
“You’ll see eventually,” she said sweetly. “You don’t know now, but one day you will.”
I raised a brow. It must be because Moira is here, there was no other explanation for why she tried to act friendly now. That’s if this could be considered so. “Right. And that day will probably come right after I grow wings.”
She ignored that. “Will you be joining us for supper tonight?”
“Us?”
“He asked me to sit in, too.” I found that hard to believe. Or maybe I just didn't want to believe it.
“He… invited you?”
“Well, naturally,” she preened. “I mean, why not? He never gets enough of me, even with you here. It seems you’ve been neglecting your duties. I nearly had him in my bed last night.”
My pulse skipped. Just once. She went on.
“Of course, I stopped myself. Out of the goodness of my heart, really. I told him, ‘I wouldn’t want someone doing that to me if I were the bride.’ That’s probably when he decided to invite me to supper—as a thank you, I suppose, for being so considerate.”
I ignored everything she said.
“Who’s the guest?” That was all I cared about.
“Some low-rank Alpha.” Vivian waved a dismissive hand.
“Not worth the show the King’s putting on. I don’t know why he’s making such a fuss, unless it’s the General himself. But knowing Lance…” She hummed.
She sure talks a lot.
“Do you know the name of the alpha or what pack he's coming from?"
“Why? Finally realized you never had a chance with Lance and now you’re scrambling to win over another Alpha?”
“Does it matter to you?”
“Well, if that’s the case, I might even lend a hand.” She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “What was his name again? Landon? Or something else?” She gave a delicate shrug. “I can’t remember. Alphas like that have never really been my type…”
A ringing started in my ears as the name sent shockwaves down my body. I zoned out, Vivian's voice becoming muffled in the background of my thoughts. My palms began to sweat as the blood within me boiled.
Landon? Alpha Landon? Could it be the same...?
No. That can’t be.
Vivian snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Hello? Are you listening to me?"
I blinked.
Something inside me snapped. All the fear, all the uncertainty, all the helplessness of the past days coalesced into a white-hot rage.
“Oh, dear, you look awful,” she taunted.
And I snapped. “Forgive my language, but… fuck you.”
Her lips parted in shock.
“What are you even doing here, Vivian?” I stepped closer. “Why does he keep you around? Why do you allow yourself to be a glorified leftover? You think your charms still work, but let me tell you something: I see through you. They all do. You're much as desperate as—”
Her hand flew up—an instinct, maybe—but she stopped herself.
“Try it,” I whispered. “I dare you. See what happens… after all, I am your King’s bride.”
Her eyes flashed with fury, but she backed away.
“Enjoy while it lasts, bride”
She left.
I hadn’t planned to explode like that, I had merely channeled my panic into anger, and it had worked—at least now I wasn't the only one on edge now.
But the relief was short-lived as the implications of what she'd said sank in.
If the alpha was who I thought he was…
I needed to speak to that prick of a king now.