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38. The King's Arrival
Last Updated:
2024-05-13 16:47:24
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 162. Pieces On The Board
[ELARA]I pull the curtains aside before they shut completely, hesitating for only a moment before stepping through.The back of the stage is chaos—scattered clothes, ropes hanging loose, people laughing, cheering, and congratulating one another on a good performance. It’s bright and messy and real in a way that startles me after the dramatic depiction I just witnessed. Their joy fills the air, but as faces turn toward me, smiles fading into polite confusion, I feel suddenly misplaced—like an intruder in someone else’s celebration.I open my mouth, uncertain what to say, until I catch sight of Lady Brook’s cloak. Relief floods through me. I hurry toward her, leaving the woman who was expecting an explanation standing awkwardly behind.Lady Brook stops a few steps ahead, reaching out to touch a man’s shoulder. He has his back to us, speaking to someone else, appearing relaxed. “Lady Brook,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the chatter as I adjust my own cloak, aware of all the c
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 161. Under A Thousand Lanterns
[ELARA]Lady Brook heard right. Qaiven’s night markets truly are beautiful. We’ve only just arrived, and I can’t help but stop and stare in awe every few steps. The island city hums like a living jewel at dusk. The market sprawls across the waterfront, lit by a thousand lanterns of crimson, gold, and emerald that sway over cobbled streets slick with sea mist. Perfumed smoke curls from brass braziers while music drifts from every corner—lutes, flutes, and drums weaving together in a rhythm that feels more like a heartbeat than noise. Traders shout in a dozen accents over tables crowded with trinkets, daggers, and embroidered slippers bright enough to shame the sun. Other stalls overflow with silks printed in dizzying patterns—suns, moons, and sea-serpents painted by hand in shimmering dye. Brocaded scarves catch the light from the lanterns like liquid metal, and tunics patterned with pressed petals sway gently in the breeze. The scent of honeyed nuts, spiced fish, and sugared fruit
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 160. The Ghost & The Living
[MAGNUS]The medallion resting on Nyra’s neck gleams golden in the blinding sunlight. She lets out a light laugh and twirls to show off the lilac dress she’s wearing, sewn with a pearl brocade. It’s a gift from Ruelle, and so is the medallion—both from her visit to Koshik. “She gives better gifts than you, Magnus,” Nyra teases, twirling again in the grass that’s soft beneath our bare feet. I grab her arm and pull her close, breathing the scent of primroses as she crashes against my chest. I expect her to gasp or complain, but the smirk on her face only widens. “Did I offend you, Your Highness?” she asks in her honeyed voice, fluttering her dark, long lashes. “You did,” I tell her in a playful voice, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “Apologise now. On your knees.”She laughs again. “You love it when I’m on my knees, don’t you, Prince Magnus?”I shake my head, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “Is that what you think of me?” She frees herself from my embrace and walk
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 159. Heir To Nothing
[MAGNUS]Valen Blackbane is Eldric’s bastard. I wish that revelation struck me as badly as it should, because it is undoubtedly insane and breathtaking; however, how can I bring myself to care for such news about someone else’s life when I’ve just had mine torn open? What came out was the ugliest truth—one powerful enough to end everything. To end… me. Had a part of me always known? It feels that way. Somehow, everything about the world is clearer to me now, like a veil that was obscuring my vision all these years has just lifted. I see the world in a new light—this one more honest, even if it’s harsher. Did my father know? I wonder. And if yes, could that mean my mother’s death was from more than just a mere illness? Had he, out of his anger, decided to get rid of her and make it all look like a natural, painfully slow death? I try hard and force myself to remember—coerce my mind to dig up memories from when I was seven years old. A lot resurfaces, surprisingly, but nothing that i
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 158. Legacy of Bastards
[ELARA]What does this mean for his claim on the throne? The thought strikes so sharply, it suffocates me momentarily, making me breathless. All these months of scheming, of planning, of preparation, and gathering allies. Of charming men and women alike. Of building an army against Eldric. If he were to find out the truth…If at all, there’s any truth to this. I draw in a sharp breath, urging myself to come up with something, anything to comfort Magnus, to tell him we’ll find out, or that it doesn’t matter, or whatever it is he needs right now. But before I can, we hear footsteps.Prince Rasmus strides in, radiant in emerald and gold, immediately commanding attention with his presence. And behind him is his bride. Princess Daphne Elspeth of Wyvern. Resplendent in scarlet silk and sunlit rubies, her long copper hair tied into a thick braid that rests on her front. A thought flits across my mind, but I don’t know if it’s mine or Magnus’s or both.I once believed Daphne would marry M
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 157. What Should've Been Enough
[ELARA]When my eyes open, I find myself curled into Magnus’s side, my cheek nestled against the warm stretch of his bicep. It takes only a heartbeat for the memory to return—and when it does, it’s not a rush or a shock. It’s a quiet, glowing bloom in my chest. Last night. His body against mine. His mouth. His hands. His voice in my ear. His skin against mine. A flush spreads across my body even under the morning chill that creeps in through the tall arch window across the room. But it’s not just the memory of how he touched me that makes me all warm and fuzzy—it’s what it meant. What it changed.Because something’s different now. Not just in my body or my heart. In my mind. There’s another presence there now. Magnus.Our mate bond, fully formed at last, hums low and comforting beneath my thoughts. I feel him. I feel us.I lift my gaze slowly to look at him, careful not to wake him just yet. He’s still fast asleep, face relaxed in the pale morning light. There’s a tiny crease betw
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