Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 68: Chapter 68

Kayla’s POV
I didn’t know what I wanted from him. Reassurance? Revenge? Something more?
But it didn’t matter.
By the time I reached my chambers, the windows were closed and the room still smelled faintly of him. The bed was a tangle of sheets I didn’t remember tangling. I was halfway toward stripping them off when—
“Oh. Hello.”
The voice wasn’t mine.
I stopped.
There was a man sitting casually in the corner chair, one leg crossed over the other, and eyes that glinted with too much confidence.
My pulse roared.
Without thinking, I lunged for the breakfast tray still untouched on the small side table. My hand closed around the bread knife.
Was he one of Landon’s?
Fuck.
“I swear to the gods—” I hissed, brandishing it with both hands, “—one more step and I’ll carve your kidneys out.”
The man raised his arms, startled but not panicked. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not start with organ theft. I’m unarmed. I promise.”
“You’re not to be here.”
“Fair,” he said, arms still raised. “But please, hear me out.”
I didn’t lower the knife.
He rose slowly, palms still up, like he was trying to coax a wild beast. “I mean no harm.”
“Who are you?” I demanded. “How the hell did you get in here?”
He cleared his throat. “Name’s Destiny.”
The fuck? Is he serious right now? “I’m sorry… Destiny?” My grip on the knife tightened.
He winced. “Yeah, I know. My parents were poetic and high. Happens.”
“What—were you born with riddles whispered into your ears too?”
He smiled, sheepishly. “Wouldn’t doubt it.”
“Why are you here?” I hissed. “Who—who sent you?”
“I work for Cartier. I'm just an aide.”
I kept the knife between us. “And that gives you the right to stroll into my private quarters?”
Stupid. The guards are always gone when they are needed the most.
“No,” he admitted, nodding. “It doesn’t. But I did knock. No one answered. I thought maybe you were… preoccupied. Don’t worry, I wasn’t followed. And no, I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful.”
I was shaking. From fear at first, but now, I wasn't even sure anymore. “So you just… walked in?”
“I was sent to deliver a message. And yes, I may have taken liberties with the seating arrangement. The bed was too presumptuous, so—”
“So?” I cut him off. “Say what you came to say and get the hell out.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t answer Cartier’s letter from a few days ago. He assumed you were avoiding him.”
“That was from him? What am I now, one of his conquered wives? I don't owe him anything to be indebted to him and start running when he calls... besides that was some disturbing way of asking someone to meet you.. COME ALONE what is that… sounds more like a trap,” I said.
“Well… it kind of wasn’t,” he confessed. “But only because Cartier figured you wouldn’t be able to speak freely within the palace. He wanted to meet somewhere neutral.”
I finally lowered the knife, just slightly.
“So instead of using official channels, he sends riddles and spies?”
“He thought the secrecy would make you curious. It’s kind of his thing.”
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. “What does he want?”
“That’s between you and him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You said he’s in the palace?”
“Yes. Meeting with the King. Not… this business, though. I’m just a side errand.”
I hated that a part of me was still curious. Cartier had always been mysterious, but he never struck me as sloppy. If he wanted something from me, it wasn’t trivial.
“Time and place?”
“In one hour. During the guard shift change. I'll escort you through the laundry yard. There's a bar two miles from here they are not open now but you and he can speak privately there.”
I hesitated.
This was a bad idea. A stupid, reckless, probably fatal idea. But still— “Fine,” I said.
Before he opened it, I added, “One more thing. Don’t ever enter my room again. I don’t care who sent you.”
He nodded once. “Noted.”
When he was gone, I dropped the blade. My fingers were still shaking.
Gods above. That could’ve gone worse.
I spent the next half hour in the shower, trying to scrub off the unease and whatever heat Lance had left on my skin.
I should’ve said no.
But curiosity… fear… vengeance… they all wore the same mask.
I knew it the moment I stepped into that corridor, boots silent against marble floors, trailing after a man named Destiny of all things. I’d wrapped my hood tighter around myself, as if it could ward off the shame of how fast I’d agreed to this meeting. How quickly I’d decided to leave Lance’s side—even if just for a moment—to chase shadows instead.
Maybe I was spiraling.
Inside, the room was dim, empty save for one booth where Cartier sat, lounging like a wolf pretending to be tame. A half-finished meal lay before him, and a flask of something steaming.
He rose when he saw me.
“Ah. You're here.”
I didn’t smile. Didn’t reach for his hand when he offered it.
“Let’s get this over with.”
He gestured to the seat across from him. “Have you eaten? They make excellent beef soup.”
“I’m fine,” I said flatly. “Say what you came to say. I can’t be gone for long.”
His lips twitched—not a smile. “You’ve changed,” he said. “More confidence. A sharper edge. I like it.”
I didn’t respond. Too many people have said that lately.
Cartier continued, waving his fork like a conductor’s baton. “No need for pretense. I wanted to finish the conversation we started that day… before that vixen interrupted us.”
I stared. “That’s what this is about? You dragged me here for a conversation I barely remember?”
He said nothing.
I pushed up from the booth. “This was a mistake.”
I turned toward the door and twisted. It didn’t budge. I tried again. Nothing.
“What is this?” I hissed. “Open the damn door.”
Behind me, Cartier’s silverware clinked as he set it down. “You just got here,” he said smoothly, now sitting upright, his tone colder. “I gave you a chance. A private meeting. A moment to speak freely—and you repay it with mockery.”
“I didn’t ask to be locked in with you,” I snapped, turning back toward him. “I’m not your prisoner.”
“Destiny?”
“Yes, my lord,” came the voice from the corner.
“Did I say anything about taking prisoners today?”
“No, my lord.”
“There you have it.” Cartier gestured to me. “So, what’s the meaning of this... tantrum?”
I glared. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“And yet,” he said with a lazy smile, “you came.”
I opened my mouth—but couldn’t argue that part. I had come.
He leaned forward slightly. “Could’ve screamed the second Destiny approached you. Guards would’ve gutted him before he finished his sentence. But you didn’t scream. You followed.”
I looked away.
Cartier’s voice dipped lower, cooler. “Is it the Landon incident that’s got you so wound up?”
I went still.
He grinned. “Ah. Thought so.”
Silence bled between us. And still, I didn’t run.
“What are you offering?” I asked finally.
“Me?” He shrugged. “Nothing. I offer nothing. But you—Kayla—you want something. That’s why you’re here.”