Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 90: Chapter 90
You are reading Auctioned to the Cruel King, Chapter 90: Chapter 90. Read more chapters of Auctioned to the Cruel King.
Lance’s POV
She took a step back from me. Not out of fear, at least, it was confusion. The kind that split across her face slowly, tightening in her jaw, her brows furrowing as she tried to process what she’d heard.
“How?” Kayla asked, her voice quieter now. “How is he your brother?”
I didn’t answer.
She pressed again. “Why are you only telling me this now?”
Of course, she’d ask that. Of course, she’d think I withheld it to hurt her. But this wasn’t one of those truths that slipped easily from the tongue. There were things about my past I’d buried so deep, even I forgot how sharp they could cut when unearthed.
“It’s complicated,” I said at last.
Her eyes flared. “Then un-complicate it.”
I felt the demand in her words like a blade pressed to the throat. She folded her arms, head tilted, staring at me as if daring me to lie. “You’ve always dodged the question—always said you had a history with him but never this. Not once did you say he was your brother.”
“That’s because it’s not something I let out,” I said flatly. “Not something I want known.”
Her mouth twitched. Her eyes never left mine.
“He’s my stepbrother, not a lot of people know about that,” I continued after a beat. “Older. We weren’t raised together, not exactly. We crossed paths when we were young, then again when we were older, but it wasn’t a happy reunion. And it never became one.”
She was quiet, digesting the words. But I could see her questions piling up. They always did with her.
“Then why didn’t you warn me he was your brother?” she asked, quieter now. “Why keep that from me?”
“I warned you not to go near him. That should’ve been enough.”
“Enough for someone you say you trust?” she shot back. “You think I wouldn’t have taken it seriously if I’d known who he was to you?”
Her tone was sharp, but I didn’t flinch.
This wasn’t about feelings.
This was about judgment. About the fact that she’d made the same mistake I once had—thinking Cartier was just a clever manipulator.
He was far worse.
“Cartier is not a man,” I said flatly. “He’s a weapon forged by hatred and left unchecked too long. His version of love is conquest. And every ounce of mercy he’s ever shown someone was a prelude to their destruction.”
Kayla’s shoulders dropped slightly. “I know that now,” she muttered. “I made a mistake, Lance. I’m not denying that.” She paused, then added, “But you should’ve told me who he was from the start, should’ve told me why he hates you so much.”
Hates me.
I could’ve answered.
Could’ve told her about the first time I bloodied his mouth in a sparring ring. How our father made him bow after I bested him. How humiliation became resentment. How he began taking out his fury on servants. Then wolves. Then whole towns. How I finally spoke out against him when no one else dared—and that was the day the crown passed to me.
If only that had been his only reason.
Instead, I said, “You want to talk about secrets now?”
She blinked.
“Let’s talk about yours. Why didn’t you tell me about his approach? How did he contact you?”
Her mouth opened slightly, startled.
“You didn’t think I’d ask that?” I pressed. “How did he get to you? Was it a message? A note?”
She hesitated. I saw it immediately, that flicker of doubt.
I stepped forward. “Tell me the truth.”
Kayla’s shoulders tensed. “It was through someone who works for him. A man named Destiny.”
That name didn't ring a bell.
A knock came at the door then.
“My King.” A guard’s voice. “Your attention is required.”
I exhaled, long and slow then looked at her again. She hadn’t moved.
“This isn’t over,” I said. “When I return, you will tell me everything. Every word exchanged. Every detail you remember. I don’t care how small it seems—understand?”
She nodded. “I will.”
I turned for the door, pausing with my hand on the handle. I didn’t look at her when I said, “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Then I stepped out.
Moira stood a good distance down the hall. She straightened at the sight of me but didn’t speak. Just nodded in understanding and made her way back toward the door I’d just exited.
My steps were heavy, but steady, as I followed the guards.
As I turned the corridor toward the southern wing, Vivian was there, lounging against one of the pillars while Alaric stood nearby.
Vivian looked up first.
“Oh, the look on your face,” she drawled. “Let me guess, you gave her a proper verbal lashing, didn’t you? Or maybe I’m wrong and you actually showed a sliver of tenderness. No? Didn't think so.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose. “Don’t start, Vivian.”
“Silly me,” she said, pushing off the pillar with a languid stretch. “It’s almost daybreak, I haven’t had a wink of sleep, and I’m still waiting to hear the one thing I deserve.”
I didn’t respond.
She arched a brow. “Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
I looked past her to Alaric, whose silence meant he was patiently waiting to report—though I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes too.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Thank you.”
Vivian tilted her head. “Hmmm… No. Not enough.”
I clenched my jaw.
“If it weren’t for me,” she added, “you’d be sending search parties for her corpse right now. Or retrieving her in pieces. So let’s not pretend I haven’t earned a few more words.”
I met her gaze. “What do you want?”
She shrugged. “That’s the fun part. I don’t know yet. But you owe me now. So when I do know…” She winked. “You'll pay it. In full.”
With that, she turned and sauntered off down the corridor, humming like none of this had involved bloodshed. Typical.
I turned back to Ric. “Report.”
“We’ve gone through the palace records,” he said. “Cross-referenced names, shifts, clearance levels. We found how they got in.”
“And?”
“They came in under council endorsement. Posing as lower staff and external guards, both of them vouched for by Councilman Kier.”
My brow furrowed. “Kier?”
Alaric nodded once.
“Send guards to his estate,” I ordered.
“No need.” His voice was clipped. “He’s dead.”
I stilled. Should’ve expected that.
“How?”
“Poisoned. Sometime last night, just before the attack, just like the rest of Cartier’s work.”
The air around me thickened with the same inevitable truth: the trap had been laid long before we ever saw it. I’d long stalled any clash with him for many reasons…
“Cartier and his aide, what’s his name again?”
“Destiny,” Alaric replied with clear distaste. Probably been filled in by Vivian. “The Seeker unit lost track of them near the eastern forest. We have no idea where they went after that.”
“So we can’t accuse him of anything.”
“No hard evidence. Nothing that would hold under council review.”
That didn't surprise me, Cartier never leaves stains.
Alaric was quiet for a beat. “You still want the summit to go on?”
“Yes.”
“Lance…”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “We continue.”
She took a step back from me. Not out of fear, at least, it was confusion. The kind that split across her face slowly, tightening in her jaw, her brows furrowing as she tried to process what she’d heard.
“How?” Kayla asked, her voice quieter now. “How is he your brother?”
I didn’t answer.
She pressed again. “Why are you only telling me this now?”
Of course, she’d ask that. Of course, she’d think I withheld it to hurt her. But this wasn’t one of those truths that slipped easily from the tongue. There were things about my past I’d buried so deep, even I forgot how sharp they could cut when unearthed.
“It’s complicated,” I said at last.
Her eyes flared. “Then un-complicate it.”
I felt the demand in her words like a blade pressed to the throat. She folded her arms, head tilted, staring at me as if daring me to lie. “You’ve always dodged the question—always said you had a history with him but never this. Not once did you say he was your brother.”
“That’s because it’s not something I let out,” I said flatly. “Not something I want known.”
Her mouth twitched. Her eyes never left mine.
“He’s my stepbrother, not a lot of people know about that,” I continued after a beat. “Older. We weren’t raised together, not exactly. We crossed paths when we were young, then again when we were older, but it wasn’t a happy reunion. And it never became one.”
She was quiet, digesting the words. But I could see her questions piling up. They always did with her.
“Then why didn’t you warn me he was your brother?” she asked, quieter now. “Why keep that from me?”
“I warned you not to go near him. That should’ve been enough.”
“Enough for someone you say you trust?” she shot back. “You think I wouldn’t have taken it seriously if I’d known who he was to you?”
Her tone was sharp, but I didn’t flinch.
This wasn’t about feelings.
This was about judgment. About the fact that she’d made the same mistake I once had—thinking Cartier was just a clever manipulator.
He was far worse.
“Cartier is not a man,” I said flatly. “He’s a weapon forged by hatred and left unchecked too long. His version of love is conquest. And every ounce of mercy he’s ever shown someone was a prelude to their destruction.”
Kayla’s shoulders dropped slightly. “I know that now,” she muttered. “I made a mistake, Lance. I’m not denying that.” She paused, then added, “But you should’ve told me who he was from the start, should’ve told me why he hates you so much.”
Hates me.
I could’ve answered.
Could’ve told her about the first time I bloodied his mouth in a sparring ring. How our father made him bow after I bested him. How humiliation became resentment. How he began taking out his fury on servants. Then wolves. Then whole towns. How I finally spoke out against him when no one else dared—and that was the day the crown passed to me.
If only that had been his only reason.
Instead, I said, “You want to talk about secrets now?”
She blinked.
“Let’s talk about yours. Why didn’t you tell me about his approach? How did he contact you?”
Her mouth opened slightly, startled.
“You didn’t think I’d ask that?” I pressed. “How did he get to you? Was it a message? A note?”
She hesitated. I saw it immediately, that flicker of doubt.
I stepped forward. “Tell me the truth.”
Kayla’s shoulders tensed. “It was through someone who works for him. A man named Destiny.”
That name didn't ring a bell.
A knock came at the door then.
“My King.” A guard’s voice. “Your attention is required.”
I exhaled, long and slow then looked at her again. She hadn’t moved.
“This isn’t over,” I said. “When I return, you will tell me everything. Every word exchanged. Every detail you remember. I don’t care how small it seems—understand?”
She nodded. “I will.”
I turned for the door, pausing with my hand on the handle. I didn’t look at her when I said, “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Then I stepped out.
Moira stood a good distance down the hall. She straightened at the sight of me but didn’t speak. Just nodded in understanding and made her way back toward the door I’d just exited.
My steps were heavy, but steady, as I followed the guards.
As I turned the corridor toward the southern wing, Vivian was there, lounging against one of the pillars while Alaric stood nearby.
Vivian looked up first.
“Oh, the look on your face,” she drawled. “Let me guess, you gave her a proper verbal lashing, didn’t you? Or maybe I’m wrong and you actually showed a sliver of tenderness. No? Didn't think so.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose. “Don’t start, Vivian.”
“Silly me,” she said, pushing off the pillar with a languid stretch. “It’s almost daybreak, I haven’t had a wink of sleep, and I’m still waiting to hear the one thing I deserve.”
I didn’t respond.
She arched a brow. “Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
I looked past her to Alaric, whose silence meant he was patiently waiting to report—though I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes too.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Thank you.”
Vivian tilted her head. “Hmmm… No. Not enough.”
I clenched my jaw.
“If it weren’t for me,” she added, “you’d be sending search parties for her corpse right now. Or retrieving her in pieces. So let’s not pretend I haven’t earned a few more words.”
I met her gaze. “What do you want?”
She shrugged. “That’s the fun part. I don’t know yet. But you owe me now. So when I do know…” She winked. “You'll pay it. In full.”
With that, she turned and sauntered off down the corridor, humming like none of this had involved bloodshed. Typical.
I turned back to Ric. “Report.”
“We’ve gone through the palace records,” he said. “Cross-referenced names, shifts, clearance levels. We found how they got in.”
“And?”
“They came in under council endorsement. Posing as lower staff and external guards, both of them vouched for by Councilman Kier.”
My brow furrowed. “Kier?”
Alaric nodded once.
“Send guards to his estate,” I ordered.
“No need.” His voice was clipped. “He’s dead.”
I stilled. Should’ve expected that.
“How?”
“Poisoned. Sometime last night, just before the attack, just like the rest of Cartier’s work.”
The air around me thickened with the same inevitable truth: the trap had been laid long before we ever saw it. I’d long stalled any clash with him for many reasons…
“Cartier and his aide, what’s his name again?”
“Destiny,” Alaric replied with clear distaste. Probably been filled in by Vivian. “The Seeker unit lost track of them near the eastern forest. We have no idea where they went after that.”
“So we can’t accuse him of anything.”
“No hard evidence. Nothing that would hold under council review.”
That didn't surprise me, Cartier never leaves stains.
Alaric was quiet for a beat. “You still want the summit to go on?”
“Yes.”
“Lance…”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “We continue.”
End of Auctioned to the Cruel King Chapter 90. View all chapters or return to Auctioned to the Cruel King book page.