Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 89: Chapter 89

Kayla’s POV
Vivian and I stepped through the front entrance without speaking, only to walk into blood-covered marbles, two figures in dark cloaks slumping just beyond the hall, near the base of the stairs. The stain beneath them bled out across the tiles running down to where I stopped.
Vivian sighed.
Then came the low murmur of voices.
Lance stood in the main hall, beside him, one of the court guards was speaking—Captain Idris, I thought. Lance’s head tilted slightly as he listened. And then his gaze lifted.
Right to me.
Our eyes locked.
The moment stretched, then he looked away.
Just like that, he turned from us, giving his full attention back to Idris in a way that my throat dried up. And if that wasn't enough they both walked off.
“Well,” Vivian muttered. “That… could’ve gone worse. Or maybe not.”
I didn’t answer.
Vivian glanced at me again. There was a trace of guilt in her expression, though she quickly disguised it with her usual indifference. “You two are gonna have to talk it out eventually.”
I nodded, barely.
Vivian let out a sigh and looked away. “You good to get back on your own?”
I forced a breath into my lungs. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine.”
She gave me a skeptical look but didn’t push.
Without another word, she turned and sauntered down one of the side halls toward Alaric, I realized, when I caught the gleam of his hair near the stairwell.
I stood there alone, for a moment.
A strange silence settled around me despite the movement, the sounds of boots shuffling, armor clanking in the distance, and orders being barked. The palace was still reeling, but it all felt… muffled.
I climbed the stairs.
Halfway down the upper hall, the sound of fast-approaching footsteps tugged me from my thoughts.
“Luna!”
A maid’s voice, then another, and another. They surrounded me like flurries of anxious wind. Soft hands on my arms, my shoulders.
“Oh, thank the moon—you’re safe.”
“Are you hurt? We couldn’t find you—”
“Everyone thought—”
“Quiet.” The command came from behind them.
Moira.
All the maids immediately stepped aside as she entered the corridor.
“I’ll take it from here,” she said. “Return to your duties.”
They hesitated, fussing and glancing my way, until Moira added, “Now.”
They left, and I met her gaze. Something in me broke loose at the sight of her. I stepped forward and threw my arms around her.
Moira stiffened.
“Oh—wow. You miss me that much?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice barely holding. “So much.”
Her arms slowly wrapped around me. “Well,” she said gently, “let’s get you back into your room before you start sobbing in the hallway.”
She led me the rest of the way. The door shut behind us moments later.
“How are you feeling?”
I sat down slowly on the edge of the bed near the nightstand.
“Kayla,” she repeated, quieter now. “How are you feeling?”
Everything I was holding in—Cartier words, the fact that things might’ve gone differently had I told Lance, Vivian’s words, the bodies in the hall, the guards who’d died because I held my tongue, the blood, the way Lance had looked at me and then turned away—all of it snapped loose.
I broke.
Tears spilled down my cheeks in a hot, shameful rush.
Moira rushed to my side, her arms around me in an instant as I sobbed into her shoulder. She held me through it all, her palm rubbing small circles into my back.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”
I clung to her like a lifeline.
But I didn’t believe her.
Because even if I was unharmed, even if tomorrow came… some things wouldn’t ever be okay.
The door opened suddenly and Lance stepped inside. I quickly wiped my face.
No expression on his face. “Leave us,” he said quietly.
A couple of seconds later, the door shut. I stood up immediately, my heart thundering in my chest. “I know how this looks,” I started, “but it isn’t like that. Please, let me explain—”
“Oh?” His voice was low and controlled. “Then tell me. What is it like, Kayla?”
He stepped forward and I flinched.
“Because from where I’m standing,” he continued, “an incident took place tonight. One that threw the palace into chaos. We had no idea where you were. For all we knew, you were taken. Dead. And then—then we find out you weren’t even in your chambers.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I understand how it looks. But I had no choice.”
His voice cracked through the silence. “What do you mean you had no choice?”
The flare in his eyes—
My wolf whimpered beneath my skin.
“Have I given you any reason to doubt me?” he asked, louder now. “Do I harm you? Threaten you? Have I made you feel unsafe recently?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”
“No.”
It came out quieter than I wanted it to, and yet it was still too loud in the silence.
Lance didn’t move.
He stood there, gaze locked on mine like a storm ready to break. “So what the hell do you mean by you had no choice?”
My mouth opened but nothing came out.
“I give you space,” he went on, voice tightening, each word clipping like the snap of a drawn bow. “I don’t crowd you. I don’t force answers out of you. Even when I know—even when I see—I wait. I wait for you to come to me.”
I flinched again.
His voice broke on the last part.
“Why couldn’t you just come to me, Kayla?”
“I don’t know!” I shouted.
The words hit the air like shattered glass.
Tears spilled again, helpless and hot. “I don’t know—I thought I could handle it. I thought if I just dealt with it alone, if I just kept it from you, then maybe I could protect you. He said he’d kill you, Lance—he said he’d—”
My voice cracked as my shoulders trembled. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
Lance stared at me like I’d gutted him.
Then he said, low and hollow, “That’s it? That’s your reason?”
“Lance—”
“You think that’s the first time someone’s threatened to kill me?” he growled. “You know how long I’ve been Alpha? If I had a coin for every death threat thrown my way, I’d have an entire chamber stocked with gold and still no time to spend it.”
“I know,” I whispered, throat raw. “I’m sorry—”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” His voice turned sharp again. “You didn’t just lie. You didn’t just sneak out. You betrayed me. You betrayed my trust.”
I winced.
“I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry. Truly, from the bottom of my heart—I am. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“What did you hope to achieve when you ran off on your little rogue mission, risking your life?”
“I wasn’t trying to prove anything,” I whispered.
“Then why?” His voice broke now—no longer cold, just tired. “Why sneak out? What exactly was your plan, Kayla?”
I hesitated.
“My plan,” I admitted, “rested on whoever you assigned to watch me rescuing me if things went sideways.”
He went still.
So still, I thought he might explode.
Instead, he blinked once.
“You knew?”
I nodded slowly. “Of course I knew. I may not have super senses, but I’ve always felt them every time I left a room. Every time I sat by the window too long or took a step too far into the garden.”
Lance exhaled sharply and dragged a hand through his hair, curses falling low beneath his breath.
“That was still reckless,” he muttered.
“I know. I know it was—”
Then he was suddenly there, right in front of me, arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his chest. I tensed on instinct, unsure what he was doing, but when I felt his breath against my hair and his voice, rough and low, whisper, “Don’t ever do something that foolish again,” I melted.
I pressed my face into his chest, exhaling a shaky breath.
“I thought I could manage it,” I whispered. “But I was wrong. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I just… I thought maybe if I heard him out… if I faced him, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His brows were drawn, his lips tight.
“You don’t hear out a monster, Kayla. Cartier isn’t just dangerous—he’s unstable.”
I froze.
The way he said that name, like it had been scorched into his memory. Different from how he’d called him before.
“I grew up under him,” he muttered, barely audible. “I know what he’s capable of.”
My breath hitched.
“What?” I asked, stepping back a little. “What do you mean you grew up under him?”
He didn’t answer.
I tilted my chin, searching his eyes. “Lance. What do you mean?”
His jaw clenched, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. For a moment, I thought he might lie—or worse, shut down completely but then he sighed.
His hands slipped from me and I hated the loss of warmth.
“He’s…” he started, then stopped.
I waited.
Finally, he said it.
“He’s my brother.”
The air drained from my lungs.