TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 19: THE FOOL’S WELCOME

VALORIA WILDEROSE

My stunned horror remains with me even after being allowed to leave the king’s courtyard, when he was done with me—dismissed with the wave of one hand and his face hidden away.

I walk aimlessly down an unfamiliar path, truly with no direction in mind.

My thoughts are miles away from me until I find myself stumbling underneath the shade of a large oak tree in the middle of a garden.

Suddenly, I’m too tired to move any further. I crouch beneath the tree, curling into a ball, silent for the first few seconds until the first tears fall down my cheek.

A crack forms in my resolve, and I burst into tired sobs, crying like a baby, trembling from the fear and impossibility of my situation.

How could I ever win against a man like that?

How could the Moon Goddess ever think that I could, in a million years, seduce that psychopath and kill him? A man without a heart or conscience could never be seduced, much less someone so evil... so devastatingly vile as him.

Those cold, lifeless blue eyes are completely void of any attachments—I could see it from the few times I held his gaze.

There’s no way I can win this. No way I could fulfill my mission in less than a year without him deciding to kill me before my time elapses.

I am a sitting duck—weak and pathetic, waiting for death.

The image of that man’s body flashes through my mind again—the sickening crack of his neck, the way his struggle came to an abrupt, fatal end beneath Azrael’s foot. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The memory is seared into me now, branded like a wound that refuses to heal.

I didn’t even know his name.

He was someone’s son. Someone’s brother. Maybe even someone’s mate. And now he’s gone, snuffed out like a candle flame, all because Azrael wanted to prove a point to me.

Because I dared to say I wasn’t afraid.

Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, and I bury my face deeper into my knees, wishing the earth would swallow me whole.

Footsteps and background chatter draw me back to the present, sniffling and rubbing at my tear-stained eyes.

Before I can leave, someone peeks from behind the tree, meeting my eyes: a person I can hardly recognize, with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a face older than twenty-seven for sure.

But her beautiful, bright yellow sundress and heavy accessories confirm that she’s a concubine—one out of the many, bound to the same fate as I am.

I wipe my tears quickly, rushing to my feet, suddenly embarrassed.

Her curious gaze watches me for a microsecond, assessing me, then my blood-stained shirt—the blood of which isn’t mine.

I expect shock, but her gaze washes over it as if used to the sight of something so grotesque, lacking any real interest.

That alone tells me more about this place than any rumor ever could. Blood on someone’s clothes doesn’t even warrant a second glance here.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice light and chirpy like a bird’s, just as she steps fully into view, revealing herself and two other maids by her side, dressed in the same uniform I find Yue always wears.

I look away without responding, hoping she leaves me alone. I don’t want to be bothered, neither do I want to bother anyone.

I expect her to walk off, but she draws closer, grabbing an expensive-looking silk handkerchief from one of her girls.

"Here, take this. For the blood," she offers.

I stare silently, hesitating before giving in and taking it.

"T-Thank y-you."

"Have you eaten anything?" she continues, refusing to leave.

I answer her with silence, but, relentless, she grabs hold of my hand, tugging me.

"Come with me," she smiles brightly.

"I’m not s-sure if I-I should..."

"Come on. I won’t bite," she insists.

Maybe it’s the wisdom in her eyes, or the warmth oozing off her gesture; I swallow my skepticism and follow this stranger, despite everything I’ve witnessed since moving in here.

Because what else do I have planned for today?

The three women continue to converse while I follow them down the path they were headed initially, feeling awkward and silent.

I start to second-guess this, but it’s already too late.

Soon enough, we stumble into a private garden, passing through an arch made of hedges before the view of what looks to be a tea party comes into sight.

There are more concubines and their maids, gossiping and laughing together—ten of them. I instantly realize what this is, feeling my social anxiety bubble up from the pit of my gut.

The garden itself is beautiful—roses of every color climbing the stone walls, a marble fountain trickling softly in the center, and elegantly arranged tables draped in white linen. It looks like something out of a painting, a scene of refined ladies enjoying an afternoon together.

But I know better than to trust beautiful things in this castle.

They don’t notice us until we’re close enough, standing by the table. All ten of them look up.

"Sorry I’m late, ladies," the one who brought me here speaks first, greeting them with enthusiasm. "Guess what I found on the way here!" she adds, pushing me forward roughly.

I stagger, confused. A second ago, she was holding my hand like we were best friends.

"Valoria Wilderose, ladies... the newest addition we’ve all heard about."

She steps aside, moving toward the only available seat, while I’m left standing for them to stare at like a spectacle. Then the mumbling starts among them.

I swallow, suddenly aware of my overly casual attire, stained with blood compared to their dresses and jewelry. Their staring doesn’t make this any easier.

Their eyes rake over me like I’m livestock at an auction—measuring, judging, finding me lacking. I can almost hear their thoughts: This is the woman the king supposedly favors? This pathetic, trembling creature in blood-soaked rags?

Finally, one blonde scoffs, loud enough to draw eyes toward her. Her bitter gaze, however, remains fixated on me.

"She isn’t even that pretty."

A few of the others snicker at that, exchanging knowing glances with each other. I feel my face heat with humiliation, but I refuse to look away. I’ve endured worse than petty insults.

"Now, now, Alice." My inviter chides her with the same warm smile. "She’s still one of us. Let’s give her our best welcome, ladies."

And then, out of nowhere, I’m doused in water from behind. Cold, rancid, filthy water that smells of rotten eggs.

I gasp for air, shaken and terrified like a wet cat in the rain, shivering from the chill that hits me.

The rest of them suddenly roar with laughter in response to what’s happened, laughing until my belly tightens at my expense.

Slowly, the scene unfolds itself, and I understand what all of this truly is.

Once again, I become the fool, lured into another elaborate trap.

You never learn, do you, Valoria?

I shiver and stew in my own silent anger until they get tired of laughing, and the blonde—Alice—speaks up again.

"Now that’s a sight befitting filth," she spits harshly. "That’s what you get for even thinking of having something someone of your station doesn’t deserve, and for starting that disgusting rumor."