Chapter 37 37
The king’s voice echoed through the chamber. “Very well. The council may now pose their questions.”
Translation: time to test if Margaux was still the same spoiled brat they remembered—or if she’d somehow grown a brain.
Gods help us all.
The first to pounce was Alpha Heinrich, a wolf older than the castle stones. “Princess Margaux, do you remember the precise moment you were taken? Who approached you? What did they say?”
I braced. This was it. This was where she’d trip—
Marigold leaned forward, diamond earrings swaying, and delivered with a tragic sigh: “Oh, it was horrible, Alpha Heinrich. Imagine me—innocent, radiant, dressed in my silk Dior gown—standing by my car, when suddenly this brute of a man” (she flung a dramatic hand at me) “grabs me, throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and—can you believe it?—not even a proper hello.”
Gasps. Gasps everywhere. Even the queen’s pearl necklace rattled with indignation.
I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they’d crack. She was describing me.
Heinrich blinked. “So you… you remember him carrying you?”
“Yes!” Marigold sniffed, dabbing the corner of her eye with an embroidered handkerchief that had definitely been swiped from the queen’s side table. “But then—I realized he wasn’t a brute. He was… my savior.”
And just like that, half the council melted.
Alpha Wolfgang looked ready to choke.
Another councilman leaned in, suspicion sharp. “But Milady, if you were kidnapped, why do you now sit beside him? Surely you harbor some… resentment?”
Marigold slapped the table so hard the crystal glasses rattled. “Resentment? To the man who carried me through the woods, slayed assassins, and somehow kept my hair intact? Do you know how much conditioner costs in this economy? He saved me and my blowout. That, councilman, is loyalty.”
Sugar, behind me, whispered, “She’s killing it.”
The council nodded sagely, murmuring, “Yes, loyalty, of course… very loyal indeed.”
I wanted to bury my head in my hands.
Beta Whiteland—her supposed father—finally spoke, voice trembling with pride. “And tell me, my precious daughter, do you… remember your family? Your upbringing?”
For a moment, the air tightened. My wolf went on alert. This was dangerous.
Marigold blinked once. Twice. Then she tilted her head and said sweetly, “Of course, Father. Who else would scold me for ordering twenty pairs of shoes in Paris? Who else would scream when I replaced the royal corgis with poodles? Who else—” she sniffled again, “—would remind me every day that being perfect was never enough?”
The room went dead silent.
Whiteland’s face cracked—just for a second—before he plastered it with pride again, nodding as though she’d recited poetry.
The queen dabbed her eyes with a silk cloth. “So spirited… so emotional…”
Gregor’s wolf was pacing now, hackles rising. Because while everyone else was too busy choking on her act, I could see it—the way Marigold’s hands trembled just slightly under the table. She was good, damn good. But she was walking a tightrope, and one slip could get her killed.
The king finally raised his hand, silencing the murmurs. “Enough. My future daughter in law has spoken. Her loyalty is clear.”
The council bowed their heads. The matter, apparently, was settled.
And me? I sat there trying not to howl in frustration, because the woman who was supposed to be playing an airhead had just out-sassed and out-played an entire room of wolves—and made them look like idiots.
MARIGOLD POV
By the time the council dismissed us, my hands were still trembling under my skirts. My lungs burned like I’d been running uphill for hours, even though all I’d done was sit there and spit out sass. Sass that nearly betrayed me when my father opened his damn mouth.
Beta Whiteland. My father.
I swear, I could still feel his gaze on me, heavy and proud, as if he hadn’t once agreed to kill me. As if he hadn’t let my brothers slip wolfsbane into my milk night after night, smiling while I sipped poison like it was warm comfort.
What if I hadn’t run that night? What if Margaux hadn’t snuck into my room?
The thought slammed into me so hard I wanted to vomit. I’d be the one dead. Not her. Me.
I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to steady the thud of my heart, but it was no use. The chamber doors clicked shut behind us, muffling the echoes of the council’s applause. And then—like a shadow—I felt him.
Alpha Gregor.
He came up fast, his steps sharp against the marble floor. His wolf pressed so close to the surface, I swore I could hear it snarling under his breath. His hand shot out, gripping my arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I couldn’t ignore him.
“What the hell was that in there?” His voice was low, rough, like it had been dragged over gravel. “You almost—” He cut himself off, his jaw locking.
I looked up at him, and for once, I didn’t sass. I didn’t throw him a joke to deflect or bat my lashes like Sugar told me to. I just… let it show. The shake in my hands. The blur in my vision. The ache in my chest.
“I couldn’t help it,” I whispered, hating how my voice cracked. “Seeing him… hearing him call me ‘daughter’ like—like he didn’t try to kill me. Like I wasn’t just the mistake he tried to erase.” My throat tightened. “I wanted to slap him. I wanted to scream. But if I broke character, we’d both be dead right there.”
Gregor’s breath hitched, and for the first time since I’d met him, his expression softened. The sharp lines of Alpha melted into something raw. Something almost… human.
“I saw your wolf,” he murmured. “She was ready to tear him apart.”
I nodded, biting my lip hard enough to taste copper. “I couldn’t stop her. Not for a second. I almost lost it, Gregor. I almost—”
His hand shifted from my arm to my shoulder, grounding me. Warm. Heavy. Solid.
“But you didn’t,” he said, voice steadier now. “You didn’t lose it. You held your ground. You fooled them all. Even him.” His jaw clenched again, but this time it wasn’t at me—it was at them. At the council. At my so-called family. “I should’ve ripped his throat out the moment he looked at you like that.”
My breath hitched. He meant it. He meant it.
And that scared me more than my own trembling. Because for a second—for a dangerous, reckless second—I wanted him to.
I dropped my gaze, blinking fast to keep the tears from spilling, but Gregor’s fingers brushed my chin, lifting my face back to his. His eyes burned like wildfire.
“I don’t care what they call you,” he growled softly. “Margaux, Marigold, princess, mistake. You’re mine to protect. And if they ever try to hurt you again—I swear—I’ll burn this council to the ground.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Gregor…”
The name came out smaller than I wanted, but it was all I had.
For a heartbeat, it was just us. His promise hanging between us, heavy and sharp. My wolf curled inside me, not snarling anymore, but… purring.
Then a loud throat-clearing shattered it.
“Um, excuse me,” Sugar’s voice cut through, flat and unbothered. “Not to ruin this very touching, very steamy moment, but if you two are gonna start ripping each other’s clothes off in the royal corridor, at least let me find popcorn first.”
I groaned, yanking myself from Gregor’s grip before my face combusted. He swore under his breath. And Sugar? She just smirked, leaning against the wall like the world’s sassiest chaperone.
Of course.