Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

Kayla’s POV
I was halfway through a loose row of stitches on my shawl when the tip of the needle slipped and bit into my finger. "Ouch," I hissed, dropping the yarn as a bead of blood welled up.
"Careful, Luna," came a voice I hadn’t heard in weeks—low, unhurried, and laced with the kind of mischief I didn’t have the energy for today. “We wouldn't want you to injure yourself over a scarf."
I looked up slowly, squinting against the sun. Cartier strolled toward me along the cobblestone path, his hair was tousled just so, and his tailored coat hugged his lean frame. It had been some time since I'd seen him around the palace, and for a moment, I'd almost forgotten his existence.
"Cartier," I said, masking my surprise. "I didn't hear you approach."
"Light feet," he said with a shrug, pushing off from the archway and strolling closer. "May I?"
He gestured to the empty chair across from me, though he was already settling into it before I could respond. The presumption rankled, but I merely nodded, not trusting my voice to remain steady.
“I didn't expect to see you here."
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I see you miss me.”
I let him think whatever he wished.
“You look radiant,” he offered. “The rumors must be true.”
I raised an eyebrow.
"Rumors?"
"That you're now Luna. Blah blah blah. Palace gossip. Nothing worth repeating." He leaned back in his chair, perfectly at ease. "I've been away at my other home and thought I'd stop by to say hello now that I've returned."
"Am I really so important that you felt compelled to seek me out?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "It's not as if we're friends."
He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "You wound me, Luna. I merely speak the truth."
Truth? The first time I met him, I was dragged off to gods knows where by people I still can't identify, I thought but didn't say.
“Maybe you have a weak heart if that’s all it takes to wound you.”
Cartier laughed. “I'm only teasing. I see you’ve changed since I first saw you." His expression grew more serious, but that charming gleam never left his eyes. "Though I do hope we might become friends in time. I think we both stand to gain from such an arrangement."
I considered his words but said nothing, reaching instead for the teapot to refill my cup.
“It seems the tea has gone cold.”
“A minor inconvenience." He waved off my concern. "I didn't come for the tea anyway.”
"So what brings you back to the palace?" I asked. Surely he didn't just come to say hello, there has to be a catch.
“I came to confirm a certain tale—and to discuss other rumors that may surface too." His pause was deliberate, weighted. "I think you know what I mean."
But I didn't. Not really. The way he looked at me suggested I should, but whatever game he was playing, I hadn't learned the rules yet.
"Well," I said carefully, "if you're calling taking the wives of your enemies and making them your concubines a good rumor, then who am I to judge?"
Cartier's smile turned predatory. "See? You do understand. I’m a practical man—not like those weaklings at court who are all howls and no bite. I practice what I preach, and I like to spread love around." He leaned forward slightly. "It would be unkind of me to take off their heads and then leave their women to go home to cold beds. I help them fill that void, you know? As Lycans, we should look out for each other. Being the superior race and all."
I had only said those words out of sarcasm but he—
I wanted to ask what exactly his position was in this territory, and what role he played in Lance's pack, but something told me to save those questions for Moira. It would be foolish to reveal how little I actually knew about the man sitting across from me.
“Enough small talk," I said. "Why did you come?”
He smiled slyly. "The question is, what are you willing to offer me to keep your secret?"
I stiffened. "What secret?"
It’s been a while since someone used those words on me and I’ve started to relax a bit too much. Of course, there was no straight week for me without something like this.
He shrugged. "I'm a practical man. I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of the crown. But to protect our great pack, I must speak up."
"Speak up about what?"
He met my gaze. "There's a certain tale … do you want to hear it?” He took my silence as a yes and went on. “The tale just happens to be about a woman who was cast aside by her mate. Said to be weak, below an alpha’s equal. They say she couldn't bear offspring and was disgraced. Then one day she vanished. Only to reappear—gloriously draped in a mad king’s attention. But no one knew she was bought at an auction, the lowest of the low—”
I felt a surge of anger. "You seem to spend an awful lot of time listening to stories. Maybe you should start writing books instead."
He raised his hands. "Patience, Luna. No need to be agitated."
I leaned in. "Have I admitted to anything? Do I look agitated to you?"
He smirked. "No, you don't. In fact, you seem quite composed." He studied me for a moment. "You know, I've been watching you since you arrived. At first, I thought you were just a passing fancy for the king. But then I realized—"
"You talk too much," I interrupted. "What do you want?"
Before he could speak again, the sharp click of heels against stone echoed through the garden.
"How unexpected," came a voice I could’ve recognized in the dead of night. "The fox and the fraud. How cozy."
Why was she back?
"Am I interrupting something?"
I never hated being interrupted so badly until now and it just happened to be her of all people. I turned, slowly. She stood at the pavilion’s edge, arms crossed, a smirk painted across her lips. Her dress was pristine, light pink silk hugging her form, hair pinned in the kind of style meant to impress men.
"Vivian," Cartier said with an amused smirk.
"Oh, please, Cart. We all know what your presence comes with. Standing before me is enough of a sting on my neck."
"Your love is ever so overwhelming," he replied dryly.
"Fucking narcissist. Why are you here? What do you want?"
"You're picking her side now?" Cartier's eyebrows rose. "Last I checked, she took your spot."
"And I still fail to see how that's your problem."
"Vivian, you disappoint me. Does the Luna have something on you?"
Her smirk twitched. She didn’t like that.
"How I plan to deal with it is my problem. My matter to handle, not yours."
This wasn't the idea I got the day I was forced to combat with her. There was clearly history between these two—complicated, messy history that I wasn't privy to. And I didn't want to know.
"The Vivian I knew wouldn't have let anyone take what she'd set her eyes on," Cartier continued, his voice taking on a taunting edge. "You're beginning to lose your touch. Or is this about Cleo?"
Vivian's composure cracked, surprise and something like fear flashing across her features. "Who told you about that? Where did you hear that name?"
"Who's Cleo?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.
"Oh, a mutual acquaintance," Cartier said smoothly. "You know, Viv, you can always come to me anytime. I mean, look at me." He gestured to himself with mock modesty. "You know me. You're waiting for Lance to bail you out of this situation is... bleak. And from what I hear, he's not a patient man."
"Screw you," Vivian spat.
Cartier glanced at his wrist. "Look at the time. I should be going." He rose from his chair, fixing me with that charming stare one last time. "We'll speak again soon, Luna."
Fuck.
It seems my luck had run low.