Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 48: Chapter 48

Lance’s POV
The door closed behind me with a single, hard shove.
I didn’t slam it—at least not in the way I deemed banging to be. The silence it left in its wake was louder than rage, though.
Moira stood near the threshold, back straight, hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes flicked to the door, then to me.
“Did you hear?” I asked, voice a low growl.
Her hesitation lasted too long. “My king… may I speak candidly?”
“No.” I didn’t even glance at her. “Do as I ordered.”
She bowed her head. "Yes, my king."
I lingered in the corridor for a breath—just one—before moving. My pace was heavy but even as I walked. The palace shifted around me, servants parting with haste, bowing low, none daring to meet my eyes.
Too much leniency. That’s what this was. I’d allowed sentiment, allowed fate’s meddling hands to dictate choices that should’ve stayed mine alone. I gave her the title. I gave her too damn much. Allowed the god-damned bond. Thought maybe, just maybe, fate had finally given me something that wasn’t soaked in blood or betrayal.
And now I was paying for it.
The cold met me at the front entrance. I paused just beyond the archway, letting it cut through the heat simmering beneath my skin. Then I exhaled. Controlled and quiet, I tried to.
“My king—please. You need to slow down. A decision made in this state—”
“In what state?” I turned. My hand was on his chest before I’d finished the sentence, pushing him back against the stone. His breath hitched as I pressed forward, close enough to see the pulse flicker at his throat. “What exactly do you think this is, Alaric? Panic? Emotion?”
His mouth parted, but I didn’t let him speak. “Where were you when she entered the den? You never answered that before. When she walked into the darkest corner of this palace, and found what was meant to stay buried?”
I gripped his collar, not out of loss of control—but to remind him. Who I was. What I expected. Loyalty, yes. But vigilance above all else.
His voice came strained. “I stand by my oath without falter. But she was bound to find out. You made her Luna. That truth was always going to surface. How long did you truly think it could be kept hidden?”
I didn’t respond at first. Damn it. I hate when the truth stared at me directly and Ric just knew how to bring about that. Silent fury sharpening every edge of me.
“She was mine to tell,” I said finally, voice low. “My truth to give. My burden to choose when and how to lay bare.”
He didn’t fight me. Didn’t raise a hand. But he met my eyes without flinching. “And what of her burdens, Lance? You act like her secrets are new to you. But you already knew who she was before you brought her into the pack. You gave her the title. And still… you treat her like she’s trespassing.”
The truth of it cracked through me, jagged and unwelcome.
I released him. Shoved away from the wall. His shirt crumpled where my hands had been, and his chest rose with labored breath as he bent forward, coughing, catching his breath, and when he straightened, it was with more calm than I deserved.
I turned from him.
“Admit it,” Alaric said quietly. “Since she came, you’ve changed. For better or worse, I don’t know. But she’s shifting something in you. Something you’ve kept locked up since the incident.”
My body tensed. That word again.
Accident, they called it. Such a convenient lie.
“Do not call it that,” I said.
Alaric’s eyes darkened. “Then find who did it. But don’t blame her for finding the truth. Don’t punish her for stepping into the shadows you’ve spent years pretending didn’t exist. She deserves more than that. And you, my King, deserve to be happy too.”
I didn’t answer. Not because he was wrong, but because I was at a loss for words.
My gaze wandered towards the archway to find Vivian. Now that it comes to mind—
“I’ll deal with you later,” I muttered, already walking.
“Lance,” he called, but I ignored it.
Vivian turned just as I neared her, that familiar smile was too late to surface. “Oh,” she said, “if it isn’t the mountain himself.”
“Enough.” I stopped in front of her. “You’re not amusing. And I’m not in the mood.”
I grabbed her elbow.
Her brows lifted, delighted. “Are we doing this again? What is it now—rage play?”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Touchy,” she whispered, her tone poisonous sweet.
I hauled her toward a more private corner of the gardens. Beneath the canopy of roses, I stopped and turned to her, my voice cold as steel.
“Who told the council?”
Her smile didn’t falter, but her gaze sharpened. “Told them what, dear?”
“Don’t play coy. About Kayla. About her inability to conceive.” My fangs pressed into my gums and I suppressed them. “Was it you?”
She snorted. “Her misfortune? That’s your scandal?”
“Answer me,” I snapped. “Or so help me, I’ll rip your heart out of your chest and hand it to Cleo myself.”
She laughed then. A bitter, broken sound that cracked with old wounds.
“That it?” she said. “Not going to burn my tongue, too? Pull out my eyes while you’re at it? Go on, Lance. Do it. If it’s not you, it’ll be Cleo. He’s coming, you know. Right here, into your palace. Your house of lies.”
Her eyes closed, her chin tilted upward. She waited. Ready for the strike.
But I didn’t hit her.
Instead, I drove my fist into a stone column beside her. The impact sent a bloom of pain through my knuckles and cracked the edge clean off.
She opened her eyes. Laughed again.
“Still can’t finish what you start,” she said.
“Enough of your games, Vivian,” I said through my teeth. “Stay away from your Luna.”
“My Luna?” she spat. “That weak little primrose you keep locked in your tower? She’s no Luna of mine. You expect me to bow to someone who’s done nothing but cling to you like a trembling rabbit while you solve all her problems?”
She spat on the ground between us, then took a step forward. “She makes you weak, Lance. You’re twisted by this delusion of goodness. You want love now? You think this is love?” Her voice rose. “What we had—was that love or was it just fucking?”
“It was more,” I said tightly.
“More what?” she shouted. “I was there. When you were nothing. When they burned your world down. I helped you crawl from it. Taught you how to channel your fury, how to make them all kneel. She wasn’t there. She hasn’t earned any of what you’re giving her.”
Her voice shook. But it wasn’t anger anymore. It was grief.
“I don’t know how the council found out. But if someone else leaked it—good. Maybe now she’ll leave and we can stop pretending you were ever meant for anything but war.”
My fingers curled into a fist at my side. But I didn’t strike her. I pressed a hand to my face, grounding myself. Swallowing the chaos.
“What happened to you?” I murmured. “What happened to us?”
Vivian’s voice was quiet. “Look in the mirror, Lance. You tell me.”
She turned. Walked away without a backward glance.
Moira stepped from behind the hedges.
“It wasn’t her,” she said. “Your majesty.”
“I know.”
She hesitated. “Then what now?”
I looked back toward the palace. The rot. The whispers. The traitors hiding behind polished titles.
“Now,” I said, “we clean the house.”