Chapter 9 Throne Room Saga
Kira’s POV
The first thing I felt was confusion. The second was cold.
This wasn’t my bed. The sheets smelled different…like smoke and pine…and the mattress was too soft. My eyes fluttered open, blinking at the tall ceiling above me. Where the hell was I?
“Miranda?” My voice came out rough. I pushed myself up, looking around. The room was huge…too big…gold curtains, marble floors, and a chandelier that probably cost more than my house. Nothing looked familiar.
“Miranda?” I called again, louder this time. No answer.
That’s when last night came crashing back…their betrayal, my supposed death, waking up in a baddie’s body, the beast man…his eyes, that voice, the way he said Abby’s name like it was a threat and a prayer all at once.
Then I remembered what almost happened between him and me, and my stomach twisted.
I threw the covers off…and froze.
I was still naked. Completely.
Panic hit like lightning. I pulled the sheets around me, clutching them to my chest. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Did he…? Did he touch me again?
God, no. Please no.
I hugged myself tighter, rocking slightly, trying to think. The last thing I remembered after he left was being trapped in that storm of pain, fire, and voices. Then nothing. Just darkness.
And now this.
I looked everywhere for my clothes. Nothing. Not even the ruined ones from last night. I stepped into the walk-in closet…just rows of perfectly folded shirts, silk ties, polished shoes. His kingdom. No trace of Abby.
I yanked the biggest shirt down…a black button-up that smelled faintly of him…and pulled it on. I nearly gagged at the scent when I remembered what Liana told me about him.
Gosh I hate him.
The shirt swallowed me whole, the sleeves covering half my hands. I didn’t care. It was better than being naked.
I had to get out of here. But where else can I go? I don’t know anybody or anywhere…wait…Liana… I need to find Liana. Or the so-called king.
I cracked the door open and peeked into the hallway. Empty. Quiet. The air was cold and heavy, like the whole place was holding its breath.
Step by step, I started walking. Bare feet on the cold floor.
Every door I opened looked the same…huge, polished, and empty. Room after room, nothing but furniture too fancy to touch. My nerves were crawling. Where was everyone?
Finally, I reached a wide hall buzzing with voices. Deep voices. Serious ones. I hesitated at the edge, peeking around the corner.
Men in dark robes. A huge throne. Adrian standing in front of a woman holding a child like he owned this world…which, technically, he did.
I didn’t understand what was happening and I didn’t care.
All I could think was…I’m standing here in his shirt, looking like I escaped from a mental ward.
Before I could stop myself, the words flew out of my mouth.
“Hey, fangs man…why can’t I find my underwear?”
The room went dead silent.
Every head turned. The robed men froze mid-breath. The woman with the baby gasped.
And the king? He just stared at me, eyes dark, jaw tight, like he didn’t know whether to strangle me or chop off my head.
I crossed my arms, tugging the shirt lower over my thighs. “What? It’s a serious question. I can’t find my things anywhere.”
The king’s lips twitched. One corner lifted, then the other, like he was fighting a sneeze. Then a snort slipped out. A real, honest-to-god snort. The sound bounced off the marble like a gunshot.
I narrowed my eyes. “Share with the class, Your Majesty. What’s so funny? And while you’re at it, where’s Liana?”
The council exploded into whispers.
“Did she just…did she just demand the king explain a joke?”
“Uncultured. Look at her…bare legs, his shirt, no shoes.”
“Why is she even in the throne room? She belongs in the attic with the rest of the trash.”
“She’s an eyesore.”
Trash. Attic. Eyesore. My stomach flipped.
Attic? That’s where they’ve been keeping Abby? Locked up like a forgotten suitcase while these robed fossils sip tea and judge?
If I remember correctly, Abby’s supposed to be the king’s woman…queen, wife, whatever…and they treat her like a moldy sandwich?
One elder, a guy with a beard so long it could be a scarf, actually raised his hand. “Guards!” he barked. “Drag her back to the attic before she embarrasses us further.”
So everyone is allowed to treat her this way and the so-called king lets it happen?
I opened my mouth to tell Scarf-Beard exactly where he could shove his attic, but the king unexpectedly moved first.
A growl ripped out of him…low, animal, the kind that vibrates in your bones. In one blur he had Scarf-Beard pinned to the wall by the throat. The old man’s feet dangled like a puppet with cut strings.
The other council members murmured in confusion and scurried to the far corner, mumbling “we apologize your majesty, we apologize your majesty,” like broken records.
The old man’s eyes bulged. He started shaking like jelly on a plate. “Y–Y–Your Majesty—I–I–”
“Oh, now you stutter?” I hissed under my breath.
The king’s voice was pure gravel. “What gave you the right to talk about locking up my woman? The queen? The Luna of this kingdom? Didn’t you get my warning last night about what will happen to anyone who dares to pick on her?”
Scarf-Beard’s face went from red to purple to ghost-white. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. The air in the room turned thick, hot, ready to combust.
Others began bowing, pleading with him to have mercy on the man.
I just stood there, arms crossed, not impressed at the scene. ‘Oh, look, Mr. Fangs finally grew a spine to defend his woman.’
Where was this energy when Abby was getting bullied? When they stuffed her in the attic like an old Christmas decoration? He stood by and let it happen. Now he’s playing hero? Spare me.
His grip didn’t loosen as seconds turned to minutes. Scarf-Beard’s eyes rolled back. He was seconds from passing out.
Then— Clap.
One sharp clap echoed through the hall like a starter pistol, then followed by another.
I whipped around immediately. A guy strode in…built like the king, almost the same height, same shoulders, but blonde hair, gray eyes a shade darker, and a swagger that screamed ‘I own the oxygen.’
He stopped right next to me, looked down…way down, and let his gaze crawl up my bare legs, the shirt hem, my face. A slow, oily grin spread.
“Well, sister-in-law,” he drawled, “looks like you’ve changed your winter collection. How entertaining.”
I curled my lip, ready to bite if he took one more step.
Just then, in a whoosh of air, the king was suddenly in front of me, yanking me behind him like a human shield. One second he was twenty feet away, the next second his hand was clamped around my wrist.
How the hell did he move that fast? Magic? Teleportation?
“Levi,” the king snarled, “why are you back so soon?”
“Ouch,” the blonde man…Levi…mocked, rubbing his chest dramatically. “That’s how you greet family now? You haven’t seen me in over a year. I expected a welcome party. But instead, I hear you almost choked my mother to death…and now you’re manhandling council members. Careful, Adrian. Keep this up and I might have to contend for the throne.”
Adrian. So that’s Mr Fangs’ name.
I hate the king, but this Levi guy? Next-level creepy. Like a used-car salesman who moonlights as a serial killer.
“Is that a threat, Levi?” Adrian growled.
“No, no, of course not, your majesty.” Levi’s eyes slid to me again, dark and hungry, like he was picturing me in less clothing. “For some reason, your young bride looks… different. More appealing. More ravishing, even sexier—”
I didn’t wait for the rest. I ripped free of Adrian’s grip, stepped forward, and did the only logical thing a girl would do in my shoes.
I attacked first.
If I was dying today, I was taking his dignity with me.