Chapter 11 #2
I offered a polite smile, unmoved. Her touch was a formality, like any noblewoman’s, carrying no weight. “Yes, we were young then,” I said calmly, neither rejecting her hand nor encouraging her gaze’s subtle invitation.
“I’ve never forgotten you,” she said, her voice trembling, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I regret my choice every day. Perock, maybe there’s still a chance for us…”
I looked at her, feeling only a faint pity, like watching someone cling to a faded dream. Her words, once capable of breaking me, now rang hollow. “Let the past stay in the past, Sophia,” I said gently but firmly. “We both need to look forward.”
Sophia opened her mouth to protest. But suddenly, the sound of a vase crashing outside broke our conversation. I frowned. Sophia's gaze shifted. “It seems we have a visitor,” she said, her smile sharp.
Viossi stepped into the parlor, her movements stiff, her face flushed with guilt and embarrassment. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I was just passing by and heard voices…”
She fidgeted, her fingers twisting together like a scolded child’s. Oddly, the anger I’d felt last night—over her touching the pendant—faded, replaced by an urge to smile at her flustered state. I opened my mouth to speak, but Sophia cut in.
“It’s okay, dear,” she said, her smile flawless. “Since you’re here, could you pour me some tea? The journey’s left me parched.”
I froze. Sophia had seen Viossi at the banquet, knew she was my wife, yet she feigned ignorance, her request a deliberate slight. Viossi’s eyes met mine, wide with a silent plea, begging me to intervene, to affirm her place.
She was waiting for me to speak, to defend her.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t let emotions sway me again—not after last night, not after years of guarding my heart.
Silence was my shield, the safest response. And Viossi realized it too.
Viossi’s face reddened with humiliation, but her eyes held a defiant dignity—the same eyes that had turned to me during the rogue’s attack, filled with trust and hope. Last night, I’d chosen Sophia. Who was I choosing now?
This time, I chose to retreat, pretending I hadn’t heard Sophia’s words, ignoring the desperation in Viossi’s gaze. I looked away, my fingers brushing my cuff—a nervous habit surfacing in my unease.
Just like last night, when the rogue struck, my instinct had been to save Sophia, not her. And now, I was failing her again.
“Of course, Lady Sophia,” Viossi said, her voice steady but trembling, betraying her effort to hold herself together.
She moved to the tea table, each step deliberate, as if wading through pain.
I sensed her restrained breaths, saw her hands shake, yet I couldn’t muster the courage to stop this farce.
As she lifted the teapot, the silver spoon clinked against the cup, a sound that struck my heart like a hammer, exposing her vulnerability and strength in equal measure.
Sophia took the cup, her eyes gleaming with triumph, her smile smug. She didn’t thank Viossi, instead turning to me with a pointed tone. “Your… servant is quite courteous.”
I should have acted, should have defended my princess’s honor. But I didn’t. I stood silent, as if bound by an invisible chain.
Viossi bowed her head, her voice a whisper. “Excuse me.”
She left swiftly, her back straight with a resolve I hadn’t seen before, as if she were holding herself together by sheer will. The door’s closing jolted me, a wave of regret and self-reproach crashing over me. Her tears, glimpsed as she turned, pierced my chest.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” I said to Sophia, my voice low and cold.
She raised a brow, feigning innocence. “What?”
“Humiliating my wife,” I said, each word deliberates. “Is that why you came?”
“Oh, Perock,” she laughed lightly. “I was curious to see how you’d react. Clearly, you don’t care for her, or you’d have stopped me. Just like last night, when you chose to save me over her.”
She was right—I hadn’t stopped her. But she was wrong about my feelings. I cared, more than I dared admit.
“This conversation is over,” I said with a cold and firm tone. “Leave, Sophia.”
Her face registered shock. “You’re dismissing me? For her?”
“Not for her,” I said, meeting her gaze. “For myself. Our past is done. You made your choice, and I respected it. Now respect mine.”
Her confidence faltered, her face paling. “You love her, don’t you?”
The question sent my heart racing. Love? I wasn’t sure. But Viossi was no longer just a tool, a vessel to me. Her tears moved me, her rare smiles lifted me, her presence had woven itself into my life in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
“You should leave, Sophia,” I said, avoiding her question, heading for the door. “The guards will escort you out.”
Without listening to her words, I left the parlor, setting out after Viossi.
I needed to find her, to apologize for my silence in the face of Sophia’s cruelty, to explain the turmoil that had kept me mute.
More than that, I needed to tell her the truth—that, without my realizing it, she’d carved a place in my heart, one I could no longer ignore.
Her scent, faint but unmistakable, guided me through the palace’s labyrinthine corridors, past the fragrant gardens where moonlight dappled the roses, to a secluded corner tucked away from prying eyes. There, a sight stopped me cold, igniting a fire in my veins that threatened to consume me.
Orin, my most trusted lieutenant, stood before Viossi, his hand gently brushing a tear from her cheek.
He was too close, his gaze soft with a tenderness that far exceeded the respect due a princess. And she—my wife—didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned slightly into his touch, her eyes glistening, accepting his comfort with a vulnerability that pierced me.
Suddenly, a surge of fiery rage erupted from the depths of my chest, burning through every fiber of my being. My inner wolf howled with a primal fury, clawing at the surface of my mind, desperate to rip apart the man who had dared to lay a hand on my mate—
Mate? Since when had I started thinking of her as my mate? Hadn’t I always seen her as nothing more than a tool, a vessel for carrying my heir, a means to an end?
But before I could figure it out, my voice had already escaped my control.
“What’s going on here, Orin?” I forced my voice to remain steady, but despite my efforts, it carried a dangerous edge, a chilling undertone of menace that even I hadn’t fully registered until the words left my lips.