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Chapter 99

Author: Lydia
last update Last Updated: 2025-08-28 12:45:00

Jude’s POV

The arena was restless.

The echoes of Xalor’s defeat and collapse still lingered in the blood-soaked air, stirring whispers among the crowd and private smirks from the Lords. The champions had been pulled back, the ground cleared, yet the scent of blood remained, heavy and coppery.

I stood there on my throne, gaze fixed on the crimson sand where Xalor had bled. My champion. My friend.

Around me, voices carried.

“He fell too easily,” Lord Bastian muttered with a grin, his sharp teeth flashing. “Perhaps the Thorn Lord relies too much on loyalty rather than strength.”

Another, Lady Nyx, leaned forward in her velvet chair, her eyes gleaming like a cat. “Or perhaps his champion lacked the resolve. A pity. He was handsome.”

Their laughter mixed with the crowd’s restless murmurs.

I clenched my hand on the armrest of my throne but did not speak—yet.

From the shadows near me, Raymond shifted
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    Jude’s POVThe crowd was a storm.Tens of thousands of voices churned above me, roaring, laughing, jeering, their sound crashing like waves against the stone walls. Heat pressed down from the sky, and the resin clinging to my skin baked beneath it, stiff as a corpse’s shroud. I moved and the bindings cracked faintly, but not enough to break. Not yet.The other Lords stood in a proud line across the sand, gleaming in sunlight, free of any resin seal. Their skins bore no trace of the embalming. Instead, faint runes shimmered under their flesh, eyes glimmered faintly, their very breath warped with sorcery. Cheats, every one of them, yet the Priestess’s silence had crowned them legitimate.Dante Mercier, golden hair gleaming, smiled faintly as if the whole crowd had come only for him. His armor was blackened steel chased with silver veins, and even from here I smelled the enchantments woven into it. His eyes caught mine and lingered too long. He had not spoken yet, but his silence was a b

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  • His Straight Pet   Chapter 104

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  • His Straight Pet   Chapter 103

    Jude’s POVThe horn shook the walls.A deep, ancient sound that rolled through the palace like thunder, heavy and slow, as if the bones of the city itself groaned awake. It meant one thing: the day had come. No more delaying. No more hiding behind excuses or politics. Today the Lords would battle.I sat in my chamber, bare from the waist up, the air sharp with the biting scent of herbs and resin. Two servants hovered around me, their hands steady as they worked. They dipped strips of cloth into bowls of thick embalming oils, a mixture so dark it glistened almost black, and pressed them against my arms, my chest, my throat. The oils sank into my skin, cold first, then burning, until it felt as though every vein was being sealed, every pore locked tight.It was tradition. Every Lord who entered the battle was supposed to be embalmed. The ritual blocked sorcery from latching onto the body, sealed away weak points, and made it impossible for anyone to twist a Lord’s flesh with curses or b

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    Raymond’s POVThe room was too quiet after Jude’s fury.The silence pressed harder than his shouting had. Raymond sat hunched on the edge of the bed, hands still trembling, chest raw from the words he had flung like knives. His throat burned, his ribs ached, but worse than that was the thudding in his chest—guilt, defiance, guilt, defiance, trading blows like fighters in the ring.Jude hadn’t left. Of course he hadn’t. He stood in the corner, arms folded, eyes like shards of obsidian cutting through the dim light. He hadn’t said a word in minutes, and that was somehow worse than when he’d roared at him.Raymond couldn’t take it anymore. “You don’t have to stand there like I’m going to break something,” he snapped.“You already did,” Jude said flatly.The words landed like a slap. Raymond flinched, then clenched his fists against his knees. “I—I was angry. You talk about me like I’m—like I’m nothing. Like I’m just—”“You are alive,” Jude cut in. “That is not nothing.”“Alive because of

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    Raymond’s POVThe chamber where Xalor lay felt heavy, full of smoke, whispers, and the soft groans of a body broken by battle. I had hardly been able to move. My stomach had twisted itself into knots as I watched the physicians work over him, their pale hands moving quickly, their sharp instruments glinting like cruel stars in the candlelight.I had wanted to say something—anything—but my throat refused to obey. My mouth was dry. I could only watch.Then Jude had entered.Like a shadow crashing through the room, his presence swallowed the air. His eyes had flared crimson as he assessed Xalor’s ruined body. The physicians bowed back from him immediately, like reeds bending in a storm. Jude’s silence had been far louder than any words.He stood there for what felt like an eternity, his jaw tight, his shoulders rigid. I had dared to think maybe—just maybe—he would speak calmly.But then he turned, his cloak cutting through

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