Chapter 12 #2
The air grew heavy once more, the only sound the clinking of cutlery against porcelain echoing through the chamber.
Irritation flared within me. I’d taken the first step, offered what I could in terms of regret, yet she remained so distant. This rejection was a challenge to my dignity, a dismissal of my authority.
“I think this dinner has gone on long enough,” I said coldly, pushing back my chair and standing. “Tomorrow, I will head to the southern region to handle some matters and won’t be back for a while. Perhaps some distance will allow both of us to think calmly.”
Out of my expectation, she didn’t try to stop me, merely nodding. “I wish you a safe journey, Your Highness.”
Her calm acceptance stung more than any protest. She didn’t care about my departure, didn’t seem fazed by the growing rift between us.
I turned and strode toward the door, but before leaving, I couldn’t help glancing back. She sat there still, her posture straight and solitary, the candlelight casting a fragile glow around her. For a fleeting moment, I nearly turned back, tempted to sit down and try talking again.
But my pride wouldn’t allow it. I was the crown prince, the future king. I couldn’t show vulnerability to anyone, not even my wife.
So, I didn’t look back. I pushed open the door and walked out of her chambers, leaving that lonely figure behind.
Perhaps she needed to realize her mistake through this separation.
Yet over the next few days, there was no word from her.
This only fueled my frustration. Why was I the only one unsettled by this?
On the afternoon of the fifth day, I decided to clear my head with a walk in the gardens.
The early summer sun was warm but not harsh, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers across my face.
As I rounded a corner, a soft, melodic laugh reached my ears—familiar yet foreign.
Familiar because it was her voice, foreign because I’d never heard her laugh with such genuine ease.
Following the sound, I spotted a sight that made my blood boil.
In a nearby gazebo, she sat on a stone bench, sunlight filtering through the vines above, casting a soft halo over her dark hair.
Orin stood beside her, animatedly recounting something amusing, his face lively.
What pierced me most was the spark in her eyes—a brightness I’d never seen before—and the relaxed smile on her lips, a stark contrast to the coldness she showed me.
It was as if Orin was the one who could make her lower her guard.
Fury erupted in my chest. I marched toward the gazebo. Orin noticed me first, straightening immediately to salute, while her smile vanished, replaced by the familiar wariness.
“Your Highness,” she greeted softly, her voice as chilly as a winter breeze.
Ignoring Orin, I stepped directly in front of her. “Come with me.”
She hesitated, glancing at Orin for a split second. That tiny gesture ignited my anger further. Ignoring her reluctance, I seized her wrist and pulled her away from the gazebo.
“Your Highness!” Her voice carried both surprise and indignation, but I paid no heed, dragging her to a secluded corner of the garden where no one could overhear.
Only when I was certain we were alone did I release her wrist. She stepped back instantly, her eyes blazing with anger.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, her voice low but resolute.
“I am your husband,” I said, locking eyes with her. “And yet you’re smiling at another man.”
She stared at me in disbelief. “I’m not allowed to smile at anyone else? Orin was merely telling me about the garden’s plants. Is that a crime now?”
“You’ve never smiled at me like that,” I blurted out, unable to stop the raw jealousy from spilling into my words.
She fell silent for a moment, the anger in her eyes giving way to something more complex. “I did smile at you once, Your Highness. Before you roared at me to get out of your study. Before you stood by while Lady Sophia humiliated me.”
Her words hit me like a blow, leaving me momentarily speechless. She was right—I had extinguished the light in her eyes myself, only to resent someone else for rekindling it.
“I can explain what happened that day,” I said quietly, stepping closer. “Sophia means nothing to me anymore.”
“Means nothing?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Then why do you still keep her crescent bracelet as a treasured keepsake? Why, during the rogue werewolf attack, did you abandon me to protect her? Why did you stay silent when she called me a servant?”
Each question was a dagger, slicing through my defenses. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall, her stubbornness evident.
“I admit I didn’t handle things well,” I said, softening my tone. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate you showing such warmth to another man, especially someone like Orin, who clearly has inappropriate feelings for you.”
“Inappropriate feelings?” Her voice carried a hint of mockery. “At least he respects me. He treats me like a person, not a breeding tool or a toy for amusement.”
Her words doused me like a bucket of ice water. I’d never openly voiced my initial view of her, yet she’d seen through me with painful clarity. Shame and anger tangled within me. Without thinking, I gripped her shoulders, pulled her close, and pressed my lips against hers in a forceful kiss.
This kiss was both punishment and a claim of ownership. I wanted her to understand that, regardless of how I saw this marriage, she was my wife—mine alone.
As my lips brushed against hers, a strange, strong electric jolt surged through my entire body, catching me off guard.
Her lips were soft and warm, carrying the faint, sweet scent of honey that pulled me in deeper, intoxicating me.
For a fleeting moment, I sensed her hesitation, a flicker of confusion as if she, too, was caught in the unexpected intensity of the moment.
Inside me, my wolf let out a low, contented rumble, a sound of pure satisfaction.
This felt so right, as if we were always meant to be connected, two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together.
But just as I lost myself in this incredible sensation, she pulled away from my embrace with a sudden, sharp movement.
Before I could even process what was happening, a loud, stinging slap across my face snapped me back to reality, the sharp pain cutting through the haze of emotion like a cold splash of water.
I stared at her in disbelief, my mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. Her eyes blazed with a fierce mix of anger and humiliation, the intensity of her gaze pinning me in place.
“You have no right to treat me like this!” Her voice quivered with raw emotion, each word laced with a trembling fury. “I’m not your plaything, not some object for you to use whenever you feel like it!”
Her words hit me hard, echoing in the tense silence between us, and I could feel the weight of her hurt and outrage pressing down on me.
I stood there, the sting of her slap lingering on my cheek, a mix of shock and frustration coursing through me.
For the first time, I realized I might have crossed a line I couldn’t easily step back from.