Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 78: Chapter 78

Lance’s POV
“We’ll talk about this later, Ric,” I muttered, not looking at him.
The door shut behind him with a quiet click, but the silence he left behind rang louder than any slam would have. Alaric rarely sulked, but when he did, it festered. He was wounded, and worse, he knew he was right.
When the door opened again, it was Helene who entered. She shut the door behind her and dipped into a respectful bow. “My King.”
I regarded her with a flat stare, the silence stretching long enough to make anyone else sweat. But not her. Helene didn’t tremble easily. That was why I admired her.
“Welcome,” I said.
She offered a tight smile. “Thank you, my King.” Her gaze flicked up as she made her way further into the study. “I came as soon as the summons reached me. How are you feeling?”
I leaned back in my chair, fingers laced together, elbows resting on the desk. “A bit here. A bit not. Light-headed. Burning under the skin. And I’m hot.”
“Hot, my King?” she asked, setting down her bag.
I nodded once. I’d tried to ignore it. “Like my blood is boiling beneath my bones.” I probably exaggerated that part but she just nodded. The alcohol I’d been digesting recently probably added to it somehow.
She didn’t comment. She had just opened her kit, snapping metal clasps free. Her instruments gleamed faintly under the sunlight that had managed to leak in. She drew a thermometer and gently stepped closer.
“Let’s start with the basics.”
I said nothing. And then she went around the table, to me, to check my pulse, and other things I didn't care to know. “Anything else?” she asked.
Interesting. So I went on to say…
“You saw her, didn’t you?” I asked, voice low.
That got her attention. A fractional lift of the chin. But she didn’t break stride.
I kept my eyes locked on hers. “Kayla visited the clinic recently for a follow-up, am I correct?”
Helene’s face didn’t flicker. “Yes, my King. A routine checkup.”
“You’re sure that’s all it was?”
The thermometer beeped. She took it out, scanned it, and hummed softly.
“You’re slightly elevated. But not dangerously so. It could be stress. Or a shifting imbalance. Your system is strained.” She reached for her stethoscope.
“I didn’t ask about myself.”
Helene paused.
I leaned forward. “I asked about her.”
Still no tremble in her voice, no guilt in her gaze. She was good.
“She’s healthy,” she said. “Though I advised her to adjust her diet—less red meat, more greens. Her body is adapting to new rhythms. Nothing alarming.”
“New rhythms,” I echoed.
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t clarify. I tilted my head. “Anything else? No… distinct news you’ve been meaning to share with me?”
The words were soft. Barely a suggestion. But even the best-trained creatures twitch under the right kind of pressure.
She shook her head, trying so hard not to stutter. “No, my King. None. Unless she told you otherwise.”
That was a lie.
It wasn’t spoken with nerves or guilt though. But it was still a lie.
“She hasn’t said a word.” I stared at her, voice colder now. “Though it’s impressive how well she’s managed to say so much by saying nothing. I smelled it on her. You know the one I mean.”
Helene blinked once. A slow, careful blink.
“I’d doubt myself,” I said, “if I hadn’t smelled it before. The faint trace of life. The quiet thrum beneath the skin. That cloying edge in scent that clings to females carrying more than just blood in their veins.”
This time stillness took root in her bones. Didn’t deny it.
“Doctor,” I said softly. “Do you have something you’d like to confess?”
Helene dropped to her knees so fast it was like her legs had vanished from beneath her.
“I beg your forgiveness, my King,” she said, lowering her forehead to the polished floor. “She asked me not to say anything. She insisted. She wanted to tell you herself.”
“She insisted?”
“Yes. She wished you’d hear it from her,” Helene rushed. “She made me promise not to speak on it, not until she had the words. I—I thought you’d want to hear it from her.”
“You thought?” I repeated, leaning forward. “You thought?”
She swallowed.
“You serve me,” I hissed, “ I placed you there for a reason.”
“I know, my King. I know, and I’m sorry. But she’s your Luna. And I—”
“You’re lucky,” I cut in coldly, “she isn’t in crisis. If she were bleeding, if anything had gone wrong while you kept your mouth shut, I’d have had you dragged to the dungeons by your hair and left to rot.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. You gambled,” I said, “and only the fact that I respect her enough to give her space is the reason your heart’s still beating. The next time you choose silence over duty, make sure it doesn’t cost you your life.”
“I swear it, my King. I swear on my oath.”
Fuck. She was indeed pregnant. It hadn't settled in my mind when the door opened again. Vivian stepped inside, eyeing the scene with a sharp brow and a hand on her hip.
“What’s going on?” she asked, voice clipped.
“Advice,” I muttered.
“Advice that has her face on the floor?” Vivian shifted her eyes to the doctor still on the floor. “Looks like you hurt her feelings.”
“Should I be concerned about how interested you are in other women’s feelings all of a sudden?”
She pouted.
“Stand,” I said to Helen and she did. Immediately straightened.
“If you’d allow,” she said quietly. “I’ll have the final results delivered before sunset. And… I’ll carry on checking her development meticulously.”
“You do that,” I said.
Helene bowed again, got her things ready, and then left the room. Silence hung heavy and I leaned further into my seat.
Vivian crossed her arms, watching me. “So. The Luna’s pregnant.”
That’s right, she was eavesdropping. I’d sensed her for a while before she made herself seen.
My silence answered her.
She exhaled. “Well. She’s going to be furious you found out like this.”
I was practically short on words so I kept my mouth shut.