The king slowly set his fork down and fixed Valeria with his unnerving gaze. Her blood froze, but she refused to back down. "I don't know if you misunderstood something, but you don't have a choice in this, my dear," he said, his voice cold. "You will be my queen. So be a good girl and eat."
His tone was sharp, and it was clear that his patience was running thin. The king thought the conversation was over and resumed eating, but Valeria's voice rang out again, louder this time.
"I don't want that. I will not be your fucking queen."
And with that, the king lost his composure. He rose abruptly and grabbed Valeria's hair, yanking her head back. His face was only inches from hers. "Shut the fuck up! I've had enough of all of you talking back. You will be my queen!"
Her eyes burned with hatred as she glared up at him, and in a moment of fury, she spat in his face.
"I would rather die than become your queen. You've already forced me into this miserable marriage. I won't be shackled to you forever as your queen and mother to your hell-spawn."
The king's expression twisted into a dark grin. Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed her roughly. She felt the pressure of his lips against hers. Someone gasped behind her, and it dawned on her that they weren't alone. She tried to push him away, but he shoved his tongue into her mouth, invading her, caressing her lips with his own.
Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to break free. She bit down on his lower lip, drawing blood. He pulled away, his gaze fixed on her tear-streaked face. He licked the blood from his lips, his smile never fading.
"Fight as much as you want," he said, his voice low and chilling. "In the end, you have no choice. But god, I love your fiery attitude. I hope you'll fight just as much tonight. It'll make it all the more enjoyable for me, my dear."
Rage surged through her, and she stood up, ready to strike the king, even if it meant punishment. But before she could make a move, the guards seized her.
"Take her to her chambers. Don't let her out," the king ordered, his tone cold. The guards dragged her away, and she screamed as loudly as she could, her voice breaking with fury.
"No! I'm not finished! I will not be your queen! You cruel bastard!" she shouted, struggling against their grip, but it was useless. They dragged her to her chambers, slamming the door behind her.
She kicked the door in frustration, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "You bastards!" she yelled, her anger consuming her. How could he think he could just choose and change everyone's life at will? She had had enough of this. She had had enough of him. But what could she do? He had already forced her into marriage. Was there anything left for her to fight for?
She paced the room in agitation until there was a knock. Two maids entered, and after Gloria's death, they hadn't dared to speak to her, lest they incur the king's wrath. They didn't need to say anything, their actions speaking louder than words as they dressed her in one of those sheer nightgowns that left little to the imagination, like the one on their wedding night. The king intended to claim her tonight and finish what he had started.
She didn't resist the maids—she didn't want to cause them trouble. On her wedding night, she had been scared, nervous, crying as she paced the room. But this time, it was different. This time, she was filled with rage. She would not give in without a fight.
She sat on the bed, eyes fixed on the door, waiting. Hours passed, but she knew he would come. He wanted to make her anxious, to play mind games. But she refused to be rattled.
Finally, when the moon hung high in the sky and it was past midnight, the door creaked open. The king entered, closing it behind him. Their gazes locked, and Valeria felt no fear. Not a trace of it.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he said, his voice low as he took a few steps closer.
"So you could startle me out of my sleep and play some power game like you always do?" Valeria replied coldly.
A smile spread across the king's lips. "Always such sharp words, my dear. But I'm happy you're not asleep. I love it when you're defiant."
He came closer, and Valeria had to force herself not to back away. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing fear.
"Why me? Lara would make a better queen. You've known her since childhood."
The king's smile didn't fade as he came to stand at her bedside. "I don't love Lara," he said simply.
Valeria scoffed. "You don't love me either. You don't even know me."
He shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I don't need to know you to love you. What I feel for you… I don't feel for any of my other wives. Yes, Lara is a good friend, but she's not the woman I want beside me. That's you, Valeria."
As he spoke, he began to unbutton his shirt. Valeria fought to keep her gaze on his face, trying not to let her eyes wander.
"That's nonsense," she said. "Whatever you feel for me isn't love. If it were, you wouldn't have hurt me so often."
For a brief moment, something like pain flickered across the king's face. "I never meant to hurt you," he said quietly, almost as if to himself. "I don't quite understand my feelings for you either, but I'm certain I love you. My mind has been consumed by thoughts of you since the first day I met you. I need you. I want you by my side—by my side as my queen."
Valeria couldn't believe him. It was all lies.
He removed his shirt and let it fall to the floor, revealing his pale, muscular chest. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on his face, refusing to look anywhere else.
He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself over her. "If you really loved me," Valeria said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts, "you wouldn't do this."
He gently caressed her cheek, his gaze softening for a moment. "I'm sorry, but I have to, my dear."
And with that, he leaned down and kissed her lips.