Valeria didn't know how to react to this unfamiliar side of the king, but with the guards' lives hanging in the balance, she had to act quickly. "Of course, I want to sit with you. Let's go inside and have some tea," she said, forcing a smile. Taking the king's hand, she led him away from the guards. Her heart ached at the failure of her escape attempt, but she couldn't bear the thought of anyone suffering for her freedom. The guards were only doing their job, trying to avoid the wrath of a man everyone feared.
The king followed her silently, his demeanor oddly calm and subdued. Valeria's confusion grew with each step. This wasn't the same man who could erupt in violence at the slightest provocation. She expected anger, punishment—anything but this strange, quiet compliance.
They entered the drawing room, and she reluctantly sat down. A maid brought tea and cake, but Valeria barely noticed. The eerie silence was unnerving. Why wasn't he invading her space, forcing her to talk, or threatening her or the guards? Was this some new form of psychological torture? Give her a false sense of security before striking?
Unable to stand the quiet any longer, Valeria spoke up. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry for leaving my room. It wasn't the guards' fault—it was entirely mine. I shouldn't have done it, and I apologize." The words spilled out quickly, her nerves making her rush. She braced herself for his reaction, expecting cruelty or cold indifference.
But instead, he smiled softly. "It's all right, my dear. You probably just wanted some fresh air. Tell me something about yourself."
Valeria blinked, stunned. This had to be a dream. No punishment? No rage? What game was he playing now?
"Forgive me for asking, Your Majesty, but… did you hit your head or something?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
The king's face clouded with a hint of discomfort at her question. "No, I didn't hit my head. I just think we got off on the wrong foot in our… relationship. I thought it might be time for us to get to know each other better."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "A little late for that, don't you think? After you forced me into this marriage—and after last night." Her voice dripped with bitterness, her words cutting.
He frowned but remained calm. "I don't understand your problem. You're acting like a brat. You should thank me for giving you the privilege of being the king's wife. Now, tell me about yourself." His authoritative tone was back, harsh and unyielding.
This version of him, she hated. This, she could easily despise. Her scowl deepened, and she opened her mouth to unleash a torrent of insults—but he cut her off.
"Look, I didn't mean it like that," he said with a sigh. "Stop being so difficult for once. I just want to have one normal conversation with my wife without arguing." His voice was laced with exhaustion, as though the effort to stay calm was wearing on him.
Valeria stared at him, incredulous. He had to be sick, delusional, or maybe poisoned. This wasn't the same man who murdered an innocent maid in a fit of rage. If he thought a civil tone and a soft smile could erase everything, he was deluding himself.
"I would rather die than have a 'normal' conversation with you," she spat, venom dripping from every word. Rising abruptly from her chair, she turned to leave.
"Sit down," he said, his voice slicing through the room like a blade. "Or I'll kill those guards who failed to keep you locked in your room."
The threat was cold, sharp, and final. Valeria froze, glaring at him before reluctantly sitting back down. "So much for wanting a normal conversation," she muttered bitterly.
"Valeria, I don't want to be like this, but you don't give me a chance," he snapped, his composure slipping.
"A chance?" she hissed, her rage boiling over. "Do you really think you deserve one, after everything you've done to me? After all the pain and humiliation you've caused?"
The king looked away, his expression momentarily troubled, almost remorseful—but she didn't believe it for a second.
"I won't apologize for what I've done," he said finally, his voice firm. "They were necessary measures. But I want to make things right now. Why don't you understand that? After last night, I thought you'd see I'm trying to change for you."
His words ignited a firestorm of fury in her chest. "Last night?" she repeated, her voice shaking with rage. "You mean when you tied me to the bed and touched me without my consent? You sick bastard!" She shot to her feet, trembling with fury. "I will not sit here a second longer!"
She stormed out of the drawing room, her anger blinding her to any potential consequences. She didn't care if he punished her or if others suffered for her defiance. How dare he think that anything he'd done was an act of kindness?
Her feet carried her back to her bedroom, the one place she had once loathed as a prison. Now, it was her only reprieve. She slammed the door shut behind her, her chest heaving with the force of her anger. She hated him more with every encounter, and no amount of twisted attempts at civility would ever change that.