Chapter 16

Sandra paced the room with a slow, deliberate saunter, as though she had commanded legions into war. Yet her eyes betrayed her bravado—nervous, darting, silently praying. The prayers spilling from her heart were laced with malice, whispered offerings to whatever dark force might answer her wicked pleas.

“You should calm down, Sandra,” Lady Vetta’s voice carried with chilling poise. “Absolutely nothing will happen. The assassins will take her down tonight.”

Sandra whirled toward her mother, her voice breaking with unease. “But the king is interrogating one of them! What if he reveals he works for me? Won’t I be exposed?” Her hands trembled as though the walls themselves threatened to betray her.

“I warned you before you proceeded,” Lady Vetta replied coolly, folding her hands as though lecturing a child. “Stake two or three lives to either die or take the blame. That way you will be spared. Remember—the assassin knows his family, his wife and daughter, are in your palm. Would he dare risk them? No. He has only two choices—die for his family, or see them slaughtered and still perish himself. He cannot expose you; he has no evidence. Be confident, Sandra. Watch yourself conquer everything that stands in your way.”

Sandra’s restless steps slowed, and she finally stopped pacing. Yet before her heart could settle, the door burst open in a ruckus. Berra stumbled in, and Sandra’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

“What did he say?!” she demanded, her voice breaking, “Did he tell the king?”

“No, my lady,” Berra bowed, breathless. “He has been killed. His body will be cremated shortly.”

Sandra’s lips curved into a slow, triumphant smile, her cheeks creeping with dark satisfaction.

“He would never dare risk his family,” Lady Vetta said, calmly lifting her cup of tea and sipping with enthusiasm, her eyes glinting.

“It serves him right—for being careless!” Sandra snapped, though her voice carried relief. Everything had unfolded exactly as her mother predicted.

Still, she could not quiet her bitterness. “I’m still grounded by that wench—the head of the female court. Mother, what should I do to her?” Sandra’s eyes flared, desperate to conspire, for her and her mother’s schemes had never failed.

“Patience, Sandra. We can do nothing until we solve your greater problem—the king’s refusal to sleep with you. Until then, I’m afraid you’ll remain under her control.”

Sandra’s face twisted, her brows drawn in despair. “But mother! Alpha Karl won’t even look at me. He never calls for me. The only times I force myself past his guards, when I force him to see me—he perceives Lois’s aura on me. Then… then he grows thirsty, uses me for his urges, and yet he never mates with me! Never!” She clenched her fists, her voice breaking with humiliation. “It is so depressing!”

Her words tumbled out faster, desperate, wounded. “And every day, it gets worse! I can’t even pass the guards most times. He does not want me near him! He will not be disturbed!”

Lady Vetta’s gaze hardened. “The king is a complex man, Sandra. But you said there was a way. And even if it is not perfect, a way is better than none at all. You are left with a choice—use what you have.”

Sandra’s lips quivered, her shoulders sagging. “I’ll keep trying,” she whispered, her voice laced with despair. “It’s just so sad… he doesn’t want to see me.”

–––

Meanwhile, Lois descended the tower entrance, her gaze catching the physician being led away blindfolded down the stairs. Lord Barbara demanded such discretion—physicians, food providers, all who entered the island came and left blindfolded, never knowing where they were.

The moment Lois stepped outside, rain began to fall. For the first time in months, she felt the rain against her skin. She tilted her head back and ran into the downpour, her body trembling with a forgotten freedom. She would never have dared if Lord Barbara had been present; he treated her like a prisoner, locking her away. But the guard assigned to her had softened, allowing her small liberties, trusting she would not run. He let her wander the island, to find sanity in nature, though his eyes never strayed far.

She could run, if she wished. The thought haunted her. But she was bound by a deal with a vicious man—a deal that weighed heavier now, with the life inside her. Triplets, perhaps more. Would Lord Barbara keep his promise once they were born?

Lois’s chest tightened. She was in the lion’s den, and danger could devour her at any moment. Her thoughts turned to her other children. What would happen to them? Could she take them all and flee? Use the abandoned boat and sail to a distant city where her portrait wasn’t nailed to every wall, where danger didn’t prowl at her heels?

She imagined it—settling somewhere unknown, starting anew. Yet even as her heart pulled, her mind recoiled. It would take courage she wasn’t sure she had. And her children would have to suffer change again.

The rain ceased, and sunlight broke slantwise through the clouds. Lois inhaled deeply and shook her head, dismissing the thought. She had to stay sane. She couldn’t act rashly.

–––

At the tower, the guard trained furiously, his sword cutting through the air, sweat dripping down his temples. Suddenly, Lord Barbara appeared with another guard at his side.

“My Lord!” the guard exclaimed, startled, bowing deeply. His heart pounded. He had allowed Lois to wander earlier, a grave violation of Barbara’s rules. If discovered, he would face wrath.

“Where is Lois?” Barbara asked sharply, suspicion in his eyes.

“She’s up in the tower,” the guard lied quickly, swallowing hard.

Barbara nodded briskly. “We must leave at once. My men suspect they were being tailed when they brought the physician earlier. It is not safe anymore. The longer we wait—”

His words ended in a choking gasp.

Three arrows whistled from nowhere, striking his back. Blood gushed from his mouth as he stumbled forward, the guards frozen in horror.

“Pro… protect her…” Lord Barbara stammered, blood bubbling from his lips. Then, collapsing to his knees, he crumpled lifeless on the ground.

“My Lord!” the guards cried, trying desperately to lift him, to stop the tide of blood. But it was too late—he was gone.

Another volley of arrows hissed through the air. One struck the guard Barbara had brought with him, the other two missed narrowly.

“We must leave now!” the surviving guard growled, hauling his wounded comrade as they staggered into cover.

Out of the shadows, four assassins emerged, blades gleaming.

“Get the slave!” one barked. Two remained at the tower’s entrance while the others charged after the retreating guards.

–––

By now, night had fallen, and Lois lingered elsewhere on the island. She frowned, wondering why her guard hadn’t come searching for her. For the first time, she stood beneath the moon, the silvery light spilling across her face. She knew not to overuse her luck; she needed to keep these moments so she could have more. With a small sigh, she turned back toward the tower.

But then she froze.

Her eyes squinted, focusing on a dark shape sprawled on the ground. As she drew closer, her heart constricted with dread. Lord Barbara lay drenched in blood.

“No…” she whispered, her knees buckling as she dropped beside him. She pressed her trembling fingers to his neck, desperate to find a pulse.

Her heart thudded painfully, and then she heard it—the pounding steps. She lifted her head, horror flooding her veins as two assassins came charging toward her, swords gleaming, poised to slice her head clean from her neck.

Lois gasped, her world turning into a blur of terror.