"The Queen Mother did. Shouldn't she have told me?" Elara's voice was steady, but her eyes never left King Theron as she spoke. There was an edge of confusion in her tone, one that revealed how unsettled she was by the unexpected response.
King Theron's reaction was immediate. His posture stiffened, and without another word, he suddenly rose from the couches and stomped away from the room, heading toward the patio. His movements were sharp and deliberate, and Elara could feel the fury radiating off him like heat from a fire. It was clear he was angry, but instead of leaving him space to cool off, Elara felt an overwhelming impulse to follow him. She couldn't quite understand why, but she did, stepping out after him.
"You weren't supposed to know that," the King's voice cut through the tense silence as he stood in the patio , looking out into the darkening night.
Elara stood frozen for a moment, the weight of his words settling over her. "Why not? This is my life too," she replied, her voice quieter but firm.
"I don't expect my wife to speak back to me!" The King's voice boomed, echoing in the air, and it shook her to her core. Her heart skipped a beat, the force of his anger crashing over her. She didn't flinch or shrink away, but the intensity of the moment was undeniable.
The King turned to face her, his gaze like a storm. "I am your King ! And when I order you to do something, you are expected to follow those rules!" His words were sharp, laced with authority. "I don't expect to see you anywhere private with my mother again. Your guards will inform me, and if you do so I will throw -" The King's words suddenly faltered, as if he realized the weight of what he was saying, how wrong it sounded. His voice softened, but the damage was done.
Elara stood there, her body tense with the force of his words. She could feel the sting of his anger, but it was the deep ache in her chest that took the most of her attention. The raw pain that coursed through her was almost too much to bear.
King Theron looked away, his gaze drifting toward the night sky, as if he could not face her anymore. "Go and sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow," he said, his tone now colder, more distant than before.
His words were like ice, and Elara's heart felt heavy in her chest as she swallowed the bitter taste of rejection. Without another word, the King turned his back to her, retreating into the night.
Elara stood there for a moment longer, her heart pounding in her ears. Her legs felt like lead, but she summoned the strength to straighten herself. She had to leave, to regain some semblance of control, to deal with the pain alone. As much as she wanted to cry or scream, she couldn't allow herself that release—not here, not now.
She bowed her head slightly, her eyes downcast in a show of respect, even though her heart felt like it was shattering. Then, she turned and walked away, her steps slow and deliberate.
But as she reached the door, the sight of the guards outside caught her off guard. They were standing at attention, their eyes watching her every move. It seemed like there were more of them than before—more than eight, perhaps even more.
The guards shifted slightly, startled by her sudden departure, but Elara didn't focus on them. She didn't care. She picked up her pace, her body moving faster as she distanced herself from the room, from the King, from the painful emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
Her mind raced, her thoughts tumbling over each other. What had she done wrong? Why did it feel like the walls were closing in around her? But no answers came. Only the sound of her hurried footsteps echoed in the hall as she continued to walk, determined to find a place where she could breathe, a place where she could finally deal with everything in peace.
In the meanwhile on the other side of the wing Morgana and the Queen Mother hastened down the long corridor, their footsteps quick and measured, their urgency palpable. As they reached the wing, the tension in the air was thick, and when they pushed open the heavy doors, the scene before them was more disturbing than they could have anticipated.
The King, still half-dazed from sleep, sat slouched on the couch, his muscles still relaxed from the ministrations of Olivia, his personal attendant. Her hands, slick with oil, moved over his bare skin in slow, practiced strokes. The sight was deeply disconcerting to the Queen Mother, her eyes flashing with fury.
"Disgraceful!" Her voice boomed through the room, and King Theron jerked upright, his body tense with alarm. He blinked rapidly, shaking off the remnants of sleep, only to find his mother glaring at him with disdain.
"What is happening here?!" the Queen Mother demanded, her voice sharp like a blade. Her words were laced with disgust as she turned her fury toward Olivia , showering her with insults.
The King, now fully awake, stood, his expression morphing into one of frustration and anger. "Mother! What you are doing is unacceptable!" His voice was low and threatening as he glared at her "Who even let you in here? I will behead that—"
The Queen Mother interrupted him with a harsh, cutting laugh. "Oh, stop acting like a boy, Theron," she scolded, her tone laced with contempt. "Your wife, the rightful Queen of Lunareth, is out there upset, and you are here allowing this lowlife of a woman to touch your body inappropriately?" She shook her head, her eyes blazing with rage. "You dishonor yourself, your Kingdom , and your bloodline with such actions."
The King stiffened at the insult to Olivia but was unable to muster a retort, the weight of his mother's words pressing down on him. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off once more by the Queen Mother's biting comments.
"You're wasting your time with this nonsense," she continued, her voice seething with authority. "What you should be doing is winning your wife's heart, securing her loyalty. Without her, you will have nothing. This long-term plan we've put into motion will fall apart, and you, my son, will be nothing. All of us will perish." Her eyes bore into him, as if trying to force some understanding into his stubborn mind.
The tension was suffocating, and as if it weren't enough, the door burst open. A guard rushed in, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear. His breath came in ragged gasps, and it was clear from the way he staggered into the room that something was terribly wrong.
"Your Majesty! Your Grace!" he shouted, his voice trembling with urgency.
The Queen Mother raised a brow, irritation mixing with suspicion. "What is it?" she demanded, her tone icy.
The guard struggled to catch his breath, each word coming out in jagged bursts. "The Queen... the Queen... the guards... they're dead... the wolf... the dungeons..." He faltered, unable to give a coherent explanation, but the meaning behind his fragmented words was enough to send a chill through the room.
The King's face went pale, his expression darkening with a mix of disbelief and growing concern. The Queen Mother, too, went rigid, her mind racing as the implications of the words sunk in.
"The dungeons," the Queen Mother whispered, her eyes narrowing. "The lycan … Is it free?"
Morgana, standing at the far end of the room, glanced quickly at Olivia, who looked as if she might speak out to clarify things, but Morgana's gaze was sharp, silencing the attendant immediately.
The King looked to the guard, his voice strained and filled with dread. "What exactly happened?"
But the guard could only shake his head, unable to offer more clarity. His face was ashen, his panic clearly overwhelming him.
The Queen Mother's voice was low but filled with a deadly certainty. "This is no accident," she muttered. "It's part of the plan, isn't it?" Her eyes flicked to her son, as if accusing him of having allowed this chaos to unfold.
Elara's distress, the guards' deaths, and the wolf—everything was unraveling faster than they could control it. The Queen Mother turned her gaze toward King Theron, her face a mix of fury and calculation.
"We've underestimated the danger," she said darkly, before turning her attention back to the guard. "Get to the dungeons. Secure the area. Now."
As the guard scrambled to comply, the tension in the room grew unbearable, and the atmosphere became thick with unspoken fears. Something far more dangerous was at play now, and everyone in the room felt the weight of it pressing in.