Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 49: Chapter 49

Kayla’s POV
His words were knives. No, not even knives. Knives could be pulled out. Could be stitched closed. His words were something worse. Hooks, maybe. Rusted and buried into flesh, words meant to snag and remain. Rotting from the inside out.
You’re nothing more than a fuck tool now.
I hadn’t slept since he said it. Not truly. I drifted in and out of blackness, but the darkness in my head was worse than anything the night could offer.
My pillow was drenched.
The mattress beneath me was more like a grave. My limbs had gone hollow. My wolf hadn’t stirred, hadn’t growled or whispered. She had disappeared into a dark part of me I couldn’t reach. I wondered if she was ashamed too.
After all, she’d made me go find Lance that night.
And now I was reliving that trauma. It clung to my skin more tightly than the sweat-soaked gown I refused to change out of. And maybe I deserved it. For being foolish. For dreaming I could belong somewhere. That I could survive Lance’s world, his pack … I had experienced that tiny bit of freedom and thought I’d gotten away.
Curse my misfortune.
I turned my face deeper into the pillow. Maybe if I pressed hard enough, the pain would dull.
“Luna,” Moira said, her voice careful, tired. “It’s almost nightfall. You’ve not eaten in three days. You haven’t bathed, haven’t stepped foot outside. I’m worried—”
“What use was doing any of those while locked up here?”
“You should at least eat something, Luna,” she suggested.
“So it’s Luna now. Not Kayla,” I muttered, bitterly. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am,” she said.
“Then why do I feel abandoned?” My voice cracked. “Why are you standing on his side?”
“There are no sides,” she said. “Just survival.”
I turned, finally looking at her. “Survival?” I spat. “You think that’s what this is? What I’m doing?”
“No. What you’re doing is wallowing.”
I sat up abruptly. “Wallowing? I was sold like a fucking object, Moira! Raped. Betrayed. You think I should just slap a smile on and play palace puppet?”Gods, I had lost my baby, the one secret I still have. Not to mention no hope of ever conceiving again.
She was silent for a beat too long.
I turned away.
“Damm it,” I scoffed. “I’m boring you now, aren’t I?”
“No,” she said, voice sharp now. “I’m trying not to scream.”
My head snapped to her.
“What?”
Her voice was low. Unflinching. “Then do you want to die?”
I froze.
She stepped closer. “Because that’s what this is. You’re dying, Kayla. Slow and quiet. You want us to care. You want the world to owe you comfort. But no one owes you anything.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s cruel.”
“It’s the truth.” Her tone sharpened. “You think you’re the only one here with scars? Go ask any guard in this palace. Any servant. They’ve all got stories like yours. Worse even. But they’re still here. Still standing.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I didn’t wipe them away.
Moira’s gaze softened, just slightly. “You refuse to eat? That’s fine. More food for the kitchen. You want to waste away? Fine. You’ll just be another ghost in a palace full of them.”
“Get out,” I whispered.
She ignored me and I reached for the blanket and yanked it over myself, curling away.
She growled.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
The blanket tore from my hands.
“No—stop—”
She pulled harder. I screamed. My body tumbled off the bed, knees hitting the cold marble floor with a dull thud. “You’ve wallowed enough,” she snapped. “You want me to be a friend and not your servant? Good! Now get up.”
I didn't move.
“Get up,” she said again.
“Moira—”
“Get. Up.”
“I’m your Luna,” I snapped.
“Not right now you’re not. Right now, you’re acting spoiled. But I know better. I’ve seen the way you want to survive. So tell me—why did you come here, Kayla? Why did you come to the palace? Was it to cry about your past? How the King act?”
I trembled, sitting on the floor, hair wild around my face, body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
“I don’t know anymore,” I whispered. I'm so tired, already.
“Then figure it out,” she said. “Because right now, you’re nothing but a ghost in this room.”
I stared at the floor, shame choking me.
“What do you want?” she asked again.
“To…to be understood,” I breathed. “To matter. To not be discarded again. To…” My voice cracked. “To be free…”
She stepped closer. “Then start with that. Want understanding? Earn it. Want Lance to see you as more than a tool? Prove him wrong.”
I looked up, blinking through tears. “You think he can be reasoned with?”
“I think he’s drowning in as much pain as you are,” she said quietly. “And he’s too powerful, too prideful to admit it.”
I let out a slow, trembling breath. I could fix it, fix me. I looked up at Moira, at those burning eyes that had stayed hidden for the longest, never seen such rawness. It doesn't matter if I could conceive or not, I could still live my life and—
I managed a breathe.
“Help me up.”
She took my hand and pulled.
I stood.
My legs wobbled like a newborn deer, but I was upright. That was something. And I was crying no more. I couldn't be more grateful. “I need to find out who told the council about… you know.” My voice dropped.
“No need,” she said, straightening the hem of my gown. “The king’s already looking into it.”
“Does he even know where to look?” I muttered. “I’d suspect Vivian, but…”
“She’s been ruled out,” Moira said quickly. “It wasn’t her. She wouldn't gain much if the King traced it back to her, so that’s that.”
I nodded slowly. Then who could it be? Was it Cartier? He was the only person who knew and has tried to use it on me.
“It’s good that you're thinking again. That's a start.”
We stood there a beat too long in silence. “Thank you,” I said. “I needed that.”
Moira smiled faintly. “It’s my duty.” Those eyes of hers roamed the room. “Now, let’s start with a bath.”
I let myself feel everything in that water—rage, heartbreak, exhaustion. And then I let them swirl down the drain. All but one. Resolve.
I’d let Landon break me. Let the king silence me. But I was done bleeding out on floors they wouldn’t sweep. If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be in a bed of tears. It would be with a blade in my hand and my name on someone’s breath.
Not to mention, here I’ve someone. Even though her loyalty isn't entered to me, what we have, it’s something.
Moira stood by after, waiting with a simple black gown. A simple jewel and makeup and I was good.
She fastened the straps behind me. “Where are you going?”
“To him. Where is he?”
“Now?”
I turned, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she pulled my dress tighter. “You told me to stop playing the victim. That survival doesn’t come with pity. So now I deal with it.”
“He’s at the dinner.” She sighed. “He’s… still angry.”
“Do you think he’s really eating anything,” I said dryly, “or just sipping wine like a petulant tyrant?”
Moira didn’t answer. But the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth told me she agreed.
I stepped into my heels. “I want to talk to him. Tonight.”
“You sure this is the best time?”
“No,” I said. “But it’s the necessary time. I need to make sure he hears it from me. All of it.”
“And what makes you think he doesn’t already know?”
“Some of it, yes. But not all. And I don’t want to guess anymore. I want to be certain.”
She looked at me for a long beat.
Then nodded.
“I’ll walk with you.”