Dianna's Account
I didn't know what to say, but thankfully, Christopher had more pressing concerns. "Get up quickly, we need to get ready for dinner with my family."
"Dinner?" I echoed skeptically. "But I embarrassed you yesterday by using magic in the palace..."
"Would you rather I took my mistress instead?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
I nodded vigorously. "I think Jane would be the best candidate—"
Before I could finish speaking, Christopher raised his hand as if to hit me. I shut my eyes, bracing for impact, but it never came. Instead, he grabbed my hair tightly.
"Listen to me, you bimbo. You're legally my wife, not them. It must be you, understand?" he snarled.
I nodded with difficulty. He finally released my hair with a shove. "You always know how to talk nonsense," he muttered.
I bowed my head, avoiding his gaze. I could tell he was upset, and of course, I was the object of his frustration.
I knew better than to provoke him at such a time. Quietly following behind him as he stormed out of the garden, I felt eyes on me. Looking around, I saw the crown prince wave at me, mouthing, "See you tonight."
I quickly looked away, fearing that Christopher would catch me. The prince didn't realize the trouble he was causing me by showing interest, even if it was harmless.
The ride home was filled with Christopher's ranting about the crown prince, calling him names for wanting instant changes after arriving just a few days ago. I kept quiet, which didn't help me at all. Christopher accused me of supporting the prince, and when I defended myself, he threatened to hit me, shutting me up.
When we got home, I immediately began preparing. Christopher chose my dress, forcing me to wear my least favorite color—red. The makeup artist did a splendid job; I looked good enough to present to the royal family.
You could say I was Christopher's trophy wife. I was very beautiful with shimmering green eyes, heart-shaped lips, and a figure considered desirable. I might be a witch, but Christopher loved showing me off.
We arrived at the palace fashionably late. The dinner had already commenced, with the royal family looking glamorous.
I, however, wished the earth would swallow me as their eyes followed me to my seat. The king was present, so I bowed to him in respect. After settling in, Christopher abandoned me without a second thought when the king called him to his side.
I was left alone, stranded between duchesses who seemed to wish I would stop breathing. "Disgusting," one spat under her breath.
I maintained my composure, avoiding them and their subtle attacks. Looking around the table, I noticed the prince hadn't arrived yet. I thought we were late.
The old king cleared his throat, rising to his feet with a wine glass in hand. "To my successor!" he cheered, and everyone lifted their cups in response. I was a bit slow to catch on, but what surprised me was when the crown prince strode in with a tiger's grace.
It seemed as if the werewolves could sense his presence from a mile away. His face was devoid of emotion, his demeanor chilling—a complete opposite of the man I met earlier.
My eyes followed him as he walked to the head of the table. "Father," he bowed to the king, then side-eyed Christopher. "Uncle?" His eyes went to the seat Christopher was sitting in, which was his rightful position.
Christopher ground his teeth but rose and forcefully bowed to the prince before returning to my side. Sensing his frustration, I placed a reassuring hand on his thigh but instantly regretted it as he squeezed my hand tightly, nearly breaking it.
I couldn't stop the single tear that slid down my face; it would surely leave a bruise. Sensing someone watching me, I briefly locked eyes with the crown prince. Even though it was brief, he looked genuinely angry.
For some reason, he excused himself. Almost immediately, the air became less suffocating. It made me wonder why he was feared. Christopher finally released me, and slowly, the merriment returned.
As the dinner ended and the family began to mingle in the grand hall, chatting and celebrating, it seemed every time they looked my way, they got annoyed.
Noticing this, Christopher, who was chatting with his older brother the king, left him and came to my side briefly to whisper in my ear, "Make yourself scarce."
I smiled outwardly but felt a little hurt inside. He always reminded me that I didn't belong here. I left the hall and wandered off, keeping my phone close.
I made my way to the consolation room; maybe a little stargazing would lighten my mood, or so I thought. However, the room wasn't empty. I wondered who was here since all the other royals were in the hall, except—
I gasped and tried to run off, but he cut me off. "If you leave, I'll assume you hate me," he said firmly.
I stopped in my tracks and walked to him slowly. I bowed as low as I could, avoiding his gaze. "I can never hate the ruler of Glancia, my prince," I said softly.
The imposing presence crossed the distance between us. "I know," he said, taking my hand, causing me to wince in pain. "How long?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
"What?" I looked up, confused.
He hissed. "Stop it already, I know you know." He continued to examine my hand, his frown deepening. "Why do you always let that bastard hurt you?" he demanded.
I struggled against his grip, which wasn't tight but wasn't easy to free from either. "Because he is my husband and master..." I replied, lowering my gaze.
The prince pinched my chin, making me look into his deep blue eyes that made my legs feel like jelly. "But I don't approve," he stated.
I shifted uncomfortably, averting my gaze. "Forgive me, my prince, but it is none of your business. I am only but a slave," I said quietly.
"A slave?" His eyes darkened. "You wish you were only a slave, but unfortunately, angel fish, you are also my mate, my promised mate!" he declared.