1: The Fifth Bride
“The King will arrive any moment.”
The maidservants bowed and left the king’s pavilion, sealing her alone inside enemy territory.
Silence followed, and only then did she move.
She quickly reached for her chess box and took the ornamental hair stick. She quickly secured it in her long, deep, wine colored hair.
It looked like any noble adornment. Yet, the poison coating it needed just a single prick of skin to kill her target.
She forced herself to breathe evenly, though her pulse raced wildly in her chest as she sat on the edge of the makeshift bed inside the pavilion.
She was deep within the enemy’s encampment, inside the pavilion of the King of Antares himself.
She had been sent as a tribute from Cronus to the King of Antares, Alaric Kingsley, ruler of half the continent. Her father had offered her as part of a peace treaty to prevent the war threatening to erupt between their kingdoms.
It was a gamble, but the King of Antares unexpectedly accepted her father’s offer, also sealing her fate as his tribute bride.
“Alaric Kingsley…” she gritted through clenched teeth.
That name had haunted her since she was ten. And now, she was married to him after a short, rushed ceremony in his encampment. Tonight, she was expected to consummate their marriage as his wife.
Her chest tightened at the thought.
The door opened, pulling her out of her stupor.
Alaric entered silently, black silk hugging his broad shoulders. His presence seemed to draw the air in around him, making the flickering candlelight quake with every confident movement he made towards hers.
She quickly greeted him with a polite bow.
“Rise,” he commanded, voice low, smooth, but sharp.
Lexa rose slowly and deliberately, lifting her gaze to meet his. He towered over her. And the way he looked at her made her feel small, just as she had the first time she saw him in the grand hall during the wedding ceremony.
It felt as though she were standing before a predator, calmly studying its prey. The intensity in his eyes sent a quiet shiver down her spine.
“I hope I am… adequate,” she whispered, trying to sound sensual. She stepped closer, refusing to look away.
Alaric’s cold gray eyes swept over her from head to toe before he spoke with unreadable expression, “You are… exactly what I needed.”
Lexa forced a playful tilt to her head, stepping forward slightly. “I’ve prepared myself for you,” she murmured. “I hope you enjoy the gift my kingdom has sent.”
A shadow flickered across his face. He did not move closer but simply watched. “Do you think you understand what you are offering?” His voice was casual, almost teasing, but each word carried an amused challenge.
“I understand,” she whispered, holding his gaze. “As your wife, I am here to serve and please you.”
For a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then he stepped closer until Lexa could feel the warmth radiating from his body and catch the clean, masculine scent surrounding him.
She didn’t break eye contact. If she looked away now, he might think she wasn’t sincere.
He needed to believe she was exactly what she appeared to be, a meek sacrificial lamb willing to do anything to please him.
Lexa felt her pulse hammering. She had planned to seduce him and to disarm him. But his eyes… they read too much, as if he could see every hidden thought of hers.
He gently brushed her cheek, his warm knuckles lingering against her skin as he taunted, “Aren’t you scared, Lexa Bourbon of Cronus? You’re my fifth bride by now.”
She had heard the stories: four brides, all gone, each disappearing quietly after their weddings. Many whispered that the king was cursed. But Lexa did not believe those rumors.
To her, Alaric was behind those deaths, just as he had killed the most important person in her life: her mother.
But tonight, she would make sure she did not die as his fifth bride. Not yet. Not until she had killed Alaric Kingsley herself.
A soft, low laugh escaped him, not warm, not amused this time, but dangerous. “What if tonight… is the night one of us dies?”
The candlelight caught in his eyes, and for the first time, Lexa realized just how high the stakes truly were. This was not a man to charm or to manipulate.
And yet… There was no turning back now. No matter the cost, even if it meant sacrificing her own life, she had to succeed in ending his life to avenge her mother. And if fate was merciful enough, perhaps she might finally gain her freedom as well.
Alaric pushed her onto the bed without warning. Lexa hit the silken sheets with a soft gasp. The soft cushion dipped as his weight followed. He caged her in with his arms, broad shoulders blocking out the light.
“So… the tribute they sent me is,” he murmured. “Quiet, pretty, and obedient?”
His hand slid to her wrist, pinning it above her head. Lexa did not struggle. Instead, she moved. In one smooth motion, she twisted her hips, using his moment of arrogance against him.
Alaric let out a surprised sound as she rolled, reversing their positions. Suddenly, he was the one pressed into the mattress, her knees on either side of his waist, her palms braced against his chest.
The chamber went very still.
Alaric stared up at her, brows lifting slowly.
Lexa leaned down, close enough that her breath brushed his lips. Some strands of her hair spilled forward, shadowing her face.
“I was taught many things,” she whispered, hiding the smirk subtly forming on her face. “Including how to please a king.”
His gaze darkened as their mouths hovered a breath apart. For a heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Lexa closed the distance and kissed him.
It started soft, almost hesitant, just enough to test him. Alaric responded instantly, his hand sliding into her nape, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. His mouth was warm, demanding, his grip tightening as if he had already claimed her.
The kiss turned intense, heated, his focus shifting fully to her. That was when Lexa’s fingers moved.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled out the ornamental hair stick from her coiled hair. Its delicate tip aimed straight for his neck, making sure the attack would catch Alaric off guard. But before the hair stick could even pierce his skin, his hand shot out and caught her wrist midair.
The sharp tip stopped only a breath away from him, never managing to so much as prick his skin. Pain shot up her arm, sharp enough to steal her breath.
Her fingers went numb, and the hair stick slipped free, clattering uselessly against the stone floor.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned to face her. “Impressive,” he said softly. “You made it this far.”
“You don’t deserve to live,” she hissed. “A tyrant like you doesn’t deserve to rule another day. Men like you only know how to conquer and destroy.”
She fought him anyway. Striking his chest, his shoulder, anywhere she could reach. Each blow landed with desperation, with fury, and each one was useless. He barely reacted, absorbing her attacks as if she were striking stone.
His lips curved into a faint smirk.
“And men like your father,” he replied, voice smooth and cutting, “know how to send their daughters to die for them.”
He was right. But she had not agreed because her father ordered her to. She accepted because she had waited for years for a chance to get close to the King of Antares, the man who had killed her beloved mother.
This was still a better fate than the one her father had planned for her. He had intended to offer her to another alliance, one that would have condemned her to a life of misery as a battered concubine to another mad ruler like the King of Susa. Sooner or later, she would have died there like a discarded rat.
Alaric was no different in her eyes. He was feared as a ruthless and cursed king. But at least by marrying him, she would have the chance to avenge her mother before meeting her own death.
“Aren’t you such a loyal daughter,” he mocked, “ready to die for your father’s schemes?”
Alaric leaned closer, his voice low. “Baron Bourbon is clever. Sneaky. He dressed desperation as honor and sent his own daughter into my bed with a weapon hidden in her hair. And called it diplomacy.”
His grip tightened for a brief second, just enough to remind her how easily he could crush her. “He knew exactly what would happen to you if you failed.”
Her breathing turned uneven. She had trained for this moment for years, and she refused to give up without a fight.
“You took my mother from me, and I’ve waited so long for this day… the day I could finally avenge her. Tonight, it will be your life that ends, not mine,” she grunted as she struggled against his iron grip.
Alaric studied her in silence, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he let go.
The sudden release nearly sent her stumbling backwards, but she recovered quickly. Grabbing the poisoned hairpin, she lunged at Alaric once more.
This time, she managed to stab his arm before he overpowered her again and pinned her beneath him with ease.
“You’re the first person who has ever managed to wound me,” he taunted with a smirk.
Lexa hated that smirk instantly. It was as though he found the entire situation amusing, as if he were enjoying every second of it.
But none of that mattered. She had succeeded. She wounded him, and the poison would already be spreading through his body.
A moment later, Alaric’s forehead creased slightly as he gasped, “You…”
Lexa gave him a triumphant smile. “The poison is spreading. In a few moments, the pain will become unbearable. Soon, everything inside you will bleed until you finally die.”
