Chapter 9

Victoria's POV

"Are you deaf?" the younger maid snapped. "Take the robe."

I quickly accepted it and slipped it on, tying the belt securely around my waist. Once I was dressed, the younger maid roughly pulled a brush through my tangled hair. I winced when it caught on a knot, but she only tugged harder.

"Keep still," she muttered.

I bit my lip and endured it until she was finished. She then pushed a pair of soft slippers toward me, and I quickly put them on. Neither maid said much afterward, and their silence made me even more uncomfortable.

When they finally led me out of the bathroom, I couldn't stop wondering what was waiting for me. I had offered myself to Lennox because I was desperate to stay alive. At the time, all I could think about was surviving long enough to prove my innocence. I couldn't allow Vanessa and Adrian to get away with destroying my life. But now that I was being taken to Lennox, I was beginning to realize just how much that desperate promise might cost me.

We walked through several corridors before climbing the grand staircase. The palace was quiet, although a few servants passed us along the way. Every single one of them stared at me with hatred and disgust. Some stopped what they were doing just to glare at me, while others whispered angrily among themselves. I didn't need to hear what they were saying to know what they thought of me. As far as everyone in this palace was concerned, I was the woman who had murdered their beloved Queen and her unborn child. And judging by the looks they were giving me, if looks could kill, I would have been dead several times over before reaching the King's bedroom.

We eventually reached a pair of enormous wooden doors guarded by two warriors. The older maid stepped forward.

"His Majesty is expecting her."

One of the guards knocked. "Your Majesty, the prisoner has arrived."

For several seconds, there was no answer. I found myself hoping Lennox had changed his mind and would send me back to the dungeon. It was a ridiculous thing to wish for, considering how badly I had wanted to leave that horrible place, but at least I knew what to expect there.

Then his voice came from inside.

"Send her in."

The guard opened the door, but I hesitated.

"Go on," the younger maid snapped, pushing me forward.

I stumbled into the room and heard the doors close behind me. For a moment, I remained where I was, taking in the enormous bedroom. Dark furniture filled the room, and a fire burned inside a marble fireplace. A massive bed stood against the far wall, covered with expensive black sheets, but I quickly looked away from it when I noticed King Lennox sitting behind a large desk near the windows.

He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and several documents were scattered across the desk. But he wasn't reading any of them. Instead, he was staring at a small framed photograph in his hand. I didn't need to see the picture to guess whose face was in it. Queen Evelyn.

He didn't look up when I entered, and after standing awkwardly near the door for almost a minute, I began wondering whether he even knew I was there. Then he placed the photograph on the desk.

"Come here."

I immediately obeyed, although my injured leg made walking difficult. When I reached the desk, he finally raised his head, and I almost wished he hadn't. He looked far more exhausted than he had four days ago. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles had formed beneath them, and his face appeared noticeably thinner. Yet despite his exhaustion, there was nothing less intimidating about him. The moment his gaze settled on me, I felt the same fear I had experienced when he ordered the archer to shoot.

He picked up one of the documents and pushed it toward me.

"Read."

I carefully picked up the paper. It appeared to be a report from the palace investigators, containing several paragraphs and a description of the weapon used to kill Queen Evelyn. I was still trying to understand what I was reading when one particular sentence caught my attention.

*Fingerprints recovered from the murder weapon match those of Victoria Timothy.*

I stared at the sentence, certain I had read it incorrectly. My fingerprints? On the murder weapon? That couldn't be right. I had never even touched the weapon, so how could the investigators possibly have found my fingerprints on it?

I read the sentence again, slowly this time, but the words remained the same. My full name was right there in the report, leaving no possibility that they had mistaken me for someone else.

"That's impossible," I whispered.

Lennox didn't respond.

"Your Majesty, I never touched that weapon."

He leaned back in his chair, watching me. "Then explain it."

"I..." I looked down at the report again, desperately trying to understand how something like this could have happened. "I don't know how my fingerprints got there. Someone must have done something to make it look like I was responsible."

He stood up, and I immediately fell silent. Lennox walked around the desk and stopped in front of me. I instinctively stepped backward, but he caught my chin before I could move any farther.

"Lie to me one more time, Victoria, and I'll break your neck," he warned coldly.

My heart pounded as his fingers tightened around my chin. I wanted to tell him again that I was innocent, but the deadly look in his eyes made me afraid to open my mouth. He was already convinced that I had killed his wife, and nothing I said seemed capable of changing his mind.

He released me, and I stumbled backward, barely managing to keep my balance. I watched him return to his desk and pick up the photograph he had been holding earlier. This time, I could see it clearly.

Queen Evelyn was smiling at the camera, one hand resting against her pregnant stomach while the other held Lennox's arm. She was beautiful, and from the happiness on her face, it was obvious that she had been looking forward to becoming a mother. Seeing her like that made everything even harder to understand. Why would anyone want to kill her? More importantly, why had someone gone to so much trouble to make it look as though I was responsible?

"Alpha King, why would I want to kill your wife?" I asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. "I didn't even know her. What reason would I have to do something so terrible?"

Lennox turned toward me and scoffed angrily.

"Someone paid you to do it. Who was it?"

I stared at him in disbelief. Paid me? Was that seriously what he believed? That I had murdered his pregnant wife for money?

"No!" I shook my head. "Nobody paid me anything. Your Majesty, I swear I didn't kill her."

He studied me for a moment, then gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Fine. You don't want to talk."

He placed the photograph facedown on his desk. I waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. Instead, he began removing the watch from his wrist. I watched him place it on the desk, then slowly unbutton the cuffs of his shirt.

What was he doing?

Until that moment, I had been so desperate to convince him of my innocence that I had almost forgotten why the maids had brought me here wearing nothing but a robe. Now, watching him calmly adjust his sleeves, I remembered exactly what I had agreed to.

I tightened my grip on the belt around my waist, and Lennox noticed the movement. His gaze dropped briefly to my hands before returning to my face. I took a step backward without thinking. He didn't move, but something about the way he looked at me made me wish I hadn't.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he gave his command.

"Undress."