After Master Brigham flushed red with embarrassment, he rose abruptly from his seat. Master Peyton, the most reasonable among them, had stayed silent through their petty squabble, watching with measured patience.
"At this point, Alaric, you cannot deny the truth," Peyton said calmly. "The kingdom needs an heir. Lucian shows no interest. Anthony is… incapable." His gaze lingered for a fraction too long before he continued. "That leaves only you. If none of you ascend the throne, the crown will pass beyond your bloodline."
Alaric laughed softly, though there was no humor in it. "Is that a threat?"
"I am stating a fact," Peyton replied.
"I rule a kingdom twice the size of this one," Alaric said coldly, rising to his feet. "One with borders worth defending and allies worth keeping. I am already next in line elsewhere." His eyes swept over the council, sharp and contemptuous. "No matter how patriotic you pretend to sound, your greed betrays you."
Murmurs erupted, but Alaric was not finished.
"You bypass Lucian because you deem him unfit. I will do the same." He sneered. "After all, who would enjoy ruling a gathering of fools?"
With that, he turned and walked out.
Only Lucas, the king's right-hand man, remained seated, watching the door long after it had closed. Master Peyton followed soon after, leaving the council chamber to erupt at last.
"What did he mean by that?" Master Brigham exclaimed, slamming his hand against the table. "He dares insult us, call us dogs?"
"You guided his useless father for years," Master Trevor snapped. "Held the kingdom together while the king played at riding horses, fucking his whores and pretending at rule. And now his son calls us dogs? Lucas stood, eyes narrowed. "You have had your victories before," he said quietly. "But your greatest mistake is believing the rest of the royal family is as simple-minded as the king. If you plan to move against Alaric, devise something clever, for once."
He left without another word.
Elsewhere in the city, the night was loud with music and laughter. Women danced, wine flowed freely, and in the shadows, two marksmen spoke in low voices.
"Last time, it was only his legs," one muttered.
"Next time," the other replied coldly, "he won't survive."
Nightfall, the palace fell quiet, servants retreated to their quarters. Chloe washed the grime from her hands and arms, stretching her aching body. She felt a sense of accomplishment. She dragged her exhausted body to her room, not the servants' quarters, but a private chamber. Perks of being an ex-princess, or perhaps a convenience arranged by Anthony.
She opened the door and froze.
A familiar figure stood by the window.
Her breath caught. "Why are you here?"
Anthony turned slowly. His eyes traced her, her worn clothes, darkened skin, the weight of labor carved into her posture. She no longer resembled the girl she once was. He could not tell whether he felt satisfaction… or pity He pushed his thoughts behind.
He rose from his wheelchair and walked toward her.
Chloe stepped back nervously, but he got closer, She turned to run, but his hand grabbed her around her wrist, dragging her back. He shoved her onto the bed, and loomed over her.
"I hate you," he said hoarsely. "I hate that I love you this much."
The candle flickered. The room felt suddenly too small, the air too thin. His eyes flashed with lust, he ripped off Chloe's clothes, she was bare before him. "Anthony.... mmm," he shut her up with a kiss, his tongue playing with house. Chloe pushed him, but she was so tired, her punches didn't leave a dent, she bit his lips instead, the taste of blood spread throughout his mouth. Anthony paused, he licked his lips and grabbed her once more. His hands groped her breast, his fingers playing with her nipples, a moan escaped her mouth. she could feel her core getting wet. "Fuck," Anthony exclaimed, he inserted his manhood inside her core. A louder moan escaped, the bed shook frantically. Anthony rained kisses on her, but she was to exhausted to resist, she fell asleep halfway. Anthony looked at the sleeping lady and planted a kiss on her forehead, "goodnight peaches." He wrapped her up and gestured for his guard to push him.