NTR: King gets Cucked-Chapter 10: Bound by Debt

Althea ran her fingers over the silk-lined envelope resting in her lap. Inside lay a receipt, the ink still fresh—another expense paid by Karlos. The sum was no small amount, yet the burden it lifted from her shoulders was heavier than the weight it placed upon them. She had assured herself that it was just financial assistance, a friend helping a friend. And yet, with each passing day, she felt the invisible chains tightening.

Karlos had a way of weaving himself into her space. His hand brushed against hers when passing a goblet of wine, his fingers lingering ever so slightly longer than necessary. He smoothed a stray lock of her golden hair behind her ear with an easy familiarity that sent shivers down her spine. A whisper in her ear, his breath warm against her skin, under the guise of an innocent jest.

She told herself it was nothing. He was merely kind. She owed him so much—her gratitude, her trust. Perhaps even more. And yet, a whisper of unease curled in her gut.

Nyra noticed. The shy queen had always been perceptive in her quiet way. She said nothing outright, only watched with a gaze tinged with concern. When Althea caught her staring, Nyra merely gave a small smile and returned to her embroidery. There were no accusations in her eyes—only an unspoken question. Althea refused to answer it, refused to acknowledge the growing discomfort settling within her heart.

Meanwhile, Zyran was utterly consumed by matters of state. The kingdom of Draconia was faltering under imperial rule, and the eastern territories had grown worryingly silent. The taxes from the region had dwindled, and rumors of noble corruption spread like wildfire. It was his duty as king to investigate, to reclaim what was rightfully Draconia's.

"I must go, Nyra. I leave at first light." His voice was steady, unwavering, but Nyra could see the exhaustion lining his features.

She clutched his hand, eyes flickering with unspoken concern. "Be careful, my king."

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He smiled faintly. "Always."

Ervin, one of the advisors, would accompany him. A native of the eastern territories, his knowledge of the region would be invaluable. Zyran trusted his guidance, though he had little love for his advisors as a whole. Politics was a viper's nest, and only a fool trusted every smiling face.

The morning of his departure, Drucila stood at the castle gates, watching as her twin brother mounted his horse. She did not speak, nor did she step forward to bid him farewell. Her ruby eyes followed his form until he and his retinue disappeared beyond the horizon. Only then did she turn away, retreating to her chambers, where she would remain, isolating herself from the world.

The king was gone.

And in his absence, the cracks widened.