76: 76 What Am I To Him

76 What Am I To Him

I listened in bewilderment, unable to comprehend their conversation. Catherine raised her head from the shadows. The anger on her face receded, replaced by astonishment. 2

"How did you know?" Catherine asked, her eyebrows raised.

"You have a slight mark on your neck," Kral arched an eyebrow, "and there's a scent of Bud on you."

Catherine immediately reached for her neck. She covered it with one hand, her complexion darkening as she muttered under her breath.

"... Did you already know it?" Catherine inquired.

"I had a hunch the moment you entered this room," Kral walked to the window, gazing at the moon before turning his gaze to Catherine's expression.

"I can hardly ignore your behavior, Catherine. Ever since you came of age, you've always been at odds with Bud. We grew up together, and I know your personality. If you're not interested in a man, you won't waste any time on him."

Catherine stood still for a moment, then asked with a hint of annoyance, "Hmph, even if you've found my secret, what does it matter? Do you think you have everything under control? But that's not the case, is it?" Catherine sneered, "How many times have you lost control because of Delia? Is that what you call being in control?"

"Delia... She's different," his tone carried a softness I had never heard before.

Kral stood by the window, bathed in the moonlight that bestowed upon his silhouette a special, enigmatic radiance. I hid in the shadows just outside the door, and my breath suspended as I avidly caught every word they spoke.

"Of course, I know she's unlike anyone else to you," Catherine crossed her arms, a cold smirk forming on her face. "After all, not anyone can curb your 'madness.' When you took that handkerchief tainted with Delia's scent from her father, you had already made up your mind to snatch her away, didn't you? To you, she's merely an antidote that can help you rein in your frenzy. Whether that antidote takes the form of an object or a person, it doesn't matter to you. If this handkerchief belonged to Bernice, you would have seized her without hesitation. And if Delia hadn't shown you her loyalty, you would have readily shackled her with iron chains, turning her into a slave. You merely seek an antidote, not a wife or a mate. Am I right?"

What?! In an instant, an icy chill coursed through my limbs, as though I had descended into a frozen abyss.

Just an hour earlier, my father had spoken to me from behind bars, his voice tinged with age, "Delia, my daughter, are you still unaware of your impending fate? Every woman who marries into the royal family meets her demise before her husband. Have you ever pondered why? Delia, do you truly believe that man loves you?"

I closed my eyes, recalling the moments I shared with Kral. He had rescued me from Nick's clutches, crowned me at the pack's grand feast, shielded me from Bernice's assault, and held me by the lakeside, urging me to find the courage to resist...

He had once mentioned that he took me away because I could pacify his rage. I was aware of that. However, I always believed it was the beginning of our affection, not merely a calculated scheme. I fell in love with him, remained loyal to him. I had to be by his side, devoting myself to him. If I held no usefulness, I wouldn't even qualify as a slave.

I was mistaken, utterly mistaken.

I had always been grateful to him for rescuing me from my previous wretched life. I felt love and respect from him, and so I offered him my loyalty and love. I made the decision to partake in the Queen's Trial, entangling myself in the power struggles of the royal court. I thought Kral's sentiments toward me were love, but little did I realize that behind the roses lay iron chains.

So, what exactly am I in his eyes?

Even if I am his mate, am I nothing more than a tool?

The blood in my veins seemed to freeze.

I stood motionless, lost in thought. In my mind, my father's malevolent laughter echoed. His pair of amber eyes, resembling mine, seemed like mirrors unveiling my future fate.

In a strange voice, he sneered, "Wake up! Naive girl! You are a sacrificial offering he bestows upon destiny! He shall use your blood to nourish his accursed fate!"

So, when Kral referred to me as his "medicine," was that truly his intention?

The scene before me became a blur, and I had to lean against the wall for support. The conversation inside the room continued, echoing in my ears.

"You were mistaken from the start. Your antidote is Delia, not Bernice," Catherine interjected, her arms crossed as she spoke, a cold smirk on her face. "I've often wondered, if Bernice were your antidote, would you treat her the same way you do to Delia?"

"It doesn't matter who it is. What matters is that her scent can calm me down," Kral replied in a deep voice, his words laced with indifference. I could almost picture the cold and detached expression on his face.

An invisible blade seemed to cut through the delicate, rosy veil between Kral and me. The harsh truth stood before me, and I had no choice but to face it.

My father's words in the prison cell echoed in my mind. He stood in the shadows, his gaze filled with complexity. "Delia, my daughter, do you believe Kral is your savior?"

A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I felt a wetness on my face. I covered my face with my hands, staring at the tears streaming through my fingers.

A throbbing pain coursed through my heart, spreading a hot stream throughout my chest. My wolf grew restless, its tail flicking anxiously, and its fur standing on end in agony.

I pressed my hand against my heart, seeking to relieve the pain. The night air was cold, and although Kral was only a wall away, I felt an immense distance separating us.

Enough!

I realized I couldn't stay here any longer. Like a small animal caught in a trap, I desperately escaped from this place. I covered my ears, stepping on my own shadow as I hurried back to the room.

"Bang!"

I collapsed onto the soft bed, overwhelmed by the chaos unfolding in my mind. The repetition of those words continued to haunt me.

"Anyone who can keep me calm will suffice," It was Prince Kral's indifferent voice.

"Well, you'll surely bring her back, even though you initially mistook her," Catherine's voice taunted with a hint of mockery.

"My daughter, Delia, do you truly believe he loves you? You're nothing more than a tool he exploits! You are destined to be sacrificed," my father's voice sneered, his words digging into my soul.

"I offer you my loyalty," Those were the words I uttered to Kral before embarking on the trial.

How absurd, how terribly absurd.

A soundless laughter escaped me as my disheveled chestnut locks cascaded over my tear-stained face. I wept, my tears soaking the pillow beneath me.

At that moment, I realized the depth of my love for Kral. Even though I comprehended that this was all a trap, a cruel realization dawned upon me—I couldn't bring myself to hold him accountable.

"But are you truly content, Delia? Are you willing to give everything when you know he doesn't love you?" A tender voice resonated within the depths of my heart.

"No, I refuse to accept this," I whispered, my words carrying sadness and determination.

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