Chapter 75: Whispered Threats and Sleeping Queen

Chapter 75: Whispered Threats and Sleeping QueenAriana’s lips parted as her face snapped toward him—the horror in her expression was priceless. He could see her mouth open and close as she just stared at him, speechless. At this point, Zavren wondered why he had said those words—not because he regretted them or anything, but simply because this wife of his was getting far too distracted from their earlier kiss. It was very rare for her to become so bold, and now he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or annoyed. Still, his face gave nothing away as he spoke. "I cannot read them, sweetheart. The staging is blocking me. But I do sense when you insult me in your head—and trust me, you’ve done that many times." Ariana’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her hands, now resting on her lap, moved nervously. She had thought he couldn’t hear her thoughts—even though she had doubts. Not to mention the things she had said in her head just last night alone. Her heart, however, calmed just a beat. "Why bother? There’s nothing wrong with reading your thoughts," he added. Ariana glared at him. There was everything wrong with that. She needed privacy—and lots of it. How about I read yours then, you shamel— her words trailed off as Zavren’s lips curled slightly. "When the words are said, I don’t hear them. But when you insult me in your pretty little head—that particular word used for the insult makes me hear the rest of the words. But this doesn’t happen all the time. I cannot actually hear your thoughts, wife—maybe just a little, as my powers are gently emitting to kill the poison. My ability becomes active." He raised his hands, and to Ariana’s surprise, the blackness was gone—the poison had been removed by him. How did that happen? The chilling projection began to fade as calmness returned to his eyes. They were back to normal. "These powers I have... they’re not from my werewolf side," he said. Ariana’s gaze locked onto his as she listened. She had suspected the same. She wanted to ask what other powers he had—but maybe she would just wait. He would reveal them in time. So what other side did he have that gave him such an almost demonic ability? "I will still punish you—teach you some real lessons about why certain rules should never be broken," he spoke quietly, dangerous silk lacing through his tone. Ariana’s face burned. Now she was wondering... what kind of punishment was he talking about? So far, the punishments she had expected were not the ones he gave her. They were usually... "Sweetheart, it seems like you’re looking forward to your punishment, aren’t you?" he asked calmly, his dead eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. "I’ll give you a little advice, sweetheart—don’t look forward to it. I wouldn’t want to reduce your expectations. So don’t even think I’ll give you the normal kind of punishment," he said, his tone smooth. Chills ran down her spine. Normal kind? What was going on in this man’s head? She wanted to know. "How about you join me with work? You’ve successfully distracted me," he said as he carried her gently from the table. He sat down, and she gently settled on his lap. Her eyes stretched slightly when she noticed one of the papers was badly rumpled. Her face turned red in embarrassment, and Zavren turned to her—only to his surprise, she mouthed: "Sorry." His body stiffened. He hadn’t expected her to mouth the word like that—the way her lips moved. He shifted hid gaze quickly. Ariana knew it was partly her fault and also Zavren’s, given that he was the one who sat her down there. She read through the paper, and her mouth fell open. It really was an important document. It was from the king of a certain kingdom known for its abundance of sand, and she had... "A sign to decline them. My wife has done a great job," she heard him say as he pushed the paper aside. Her gaze moved to his in shock—just like that the paper had been declined. Then, silence fell. Ariana decided to stay calm; she didn’t want to disturb him while he worked. This was important, and it was better she stayed like this and avoid trouble, especially after sitting on that table. Best she kept her hands to herself than risk him telling her to return to the room. The only sound that could be heard was the soothing scratch of his pen as he signed the papers—a sound that surprisingly calmed Ariana’s mind. She rested her head on his shoulder. Zavren noticed her breathing begin to slow, and just as he looked down—lo and behold—his snowflake was sleeping so calmly, her face peaceful. Some strands of her locks fell across her face, making her look like a fallen angel. Her lashes rested softly against her upper cheeks. He adjusted his position, cradling her to avoid any discomfort to her body. As he continued signing, his body stilled when he felt her move, her face nuzzling closer to his chest. Time passed. Knock! Knock! The soft knock echoed, interrupting the silence of the room. The door creaked open, and Raven stepped in, his gaze drifting toward the window just to confirm something. He didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he did—the way the room had darkened. But he knew the king’s aura. As always, it was intimidating. "Your Majesty, I realized your quiet time ended five minutes ago and I came to—" he was interrupted coldly by Zavren. "Reduce your fucking voice." Raven’s eyes widened. He turned, making his eyes bulge even more. He finally understood why the king said that. Her Grace was asleep in his arms. His ears burned slightly; he hadn’t expected that. "Look at her one more time, and I will pluck those eyes out myself," Zavren said, and Raven quickly shifted his gaze, scratching the back of his neck. So that was why the king wanted him to lower his voice—to not wake the queen. He turned. Maybe he could leave and give them time—or rather take some rest himself. He hadn’t had proper rest in a while, and this might just be the chance, thanks to the Queen. Just as he turned: "Where the fuck do you think you’re going?" Zavren asked. Raven’s body froze. What shocked him more was the deliberate calmness in Zavren’s voice. It was low, nearly a whisper, yet so menacing. And to think even the king didn’t want to wake his wife... that shocked him. ’You know what they say: happy wife, happy life,’ he couldn’t help but say to himself. In a hushed whisper, Raven replied, "I have some news... I had wanted to go and—" he gulped. His face paled. Even the gulp sounded too loud. "I apologize, Your Highness," he added, trying to manage a whisper. At this point, his voice was cracking. All he wanted now was a sip of water to clear it. Zavren’s gaze remained fixed on him as he pointed toward the jug of water on the table. "Water," Raven managed to say. He didn’t know why it was suddenly hard to breathe. Zavren didn’t respond. He shifted his focus back to the papers and continued signing in silence. Raven began walking toward the table area when he heard Zavren’s voice again. "Tiptoe." Those simple words made him halt. Was this torture? He had only wanted to drink water, give the news, and leave. His life felt like it was hanging by a thin thread. His heart thudded dangerously in his chest. Now, he was having second thoughts. Should he still drink the water or just report the news and leave? Still, he tiptoed softly toward the table. As he reached it, he wondered how to pour the water without it making a sound. He turned to check—Zavren’s gaze was still fixed on the papers. At least that was better. He picked up the jug and placed the cup, gently beginning to pour. The soft sound echoed— PLOP Zavren’s eyes moved to him, and Raven’s blood ran cold. The water that entered wasn’t even much. Oh Lord. He bowed, and just then, the cover of the jug slipped. His eyes flew wide as he swiftly caught it—but in doing so, the jug tilted, and the water poured onto his pants. The cold soaked through his legs. Still, he felt grateful that at least the lid hadn’t fallen. ’In fact, I’m not drinking again,’ he told himself. It wasn’t like pouring water could wake someone, but his king was ridiculously overprotective. He gently placed the jug back on the table, picked up the cup, raised it to his lips... then put it down again. ’This isn’t even up to a gulp,’ he thought as he began tiptoeing back despite the wetness of his pants. Oh, this was torture. He even began to wonder if his breathing was too loud. He paused and waited for Zavren. "Speak." He cleared his throat lightly and began to whisper: "The one who loosed that arrow last night was no stranger—he was the brother of a royal guard from this very palace, and he had been aiming to kill the Qu—" "That’s enough," Zavren interrupted darkly, stopping him from saying more. His eyes dropped back to Ariana’s face. "You may leave," he said. Raven’s eyes flickered to the king before he bowed and left—with a tiptoe as well. He wondered what was going on today. Was it not the king who told him to speak? And just as he did, he was interrupted by this same king again. A soft sigh rested on his lips as he knew one thing for sure: This king was getting overly possessive of his wife. And just as the door closed— There was a brief silence. "Ariana," he spoke, his cold voice low and commanding. "Open your eyes."