Chapter 12 – False Reports
MARCIA’S PERSPECTIVE
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The King’s fury was quiet, but unmistakable.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t raise his hand. He simply stared at me with cold, sharp eyes, like I was something to scrape off his boots.
“You forged a letter from Wizard Maxin,” he said.
I stood tall, my cloak still wet with rain. “Because you wouldn’t
believe me otherwise.”
“You assumed you knew better than your king.”
“I do know better when it comes to war, Your Majesty.”
That was the wrong thing to say. His eyes flared, and the room fell completely silent.
He rose from his seat and approached, voice like stone. “Your resentment for Kael and Eunice Hale is no excuse to manipulate war intelligence. You simply want them to return to the
battlefield, so they’re unable to enjoy their new marriage. Such pettiness should be below you, Lady Marcia Xendale.”
“I wasn’t thinking about them,” I said, jaw tight. “I was thinking about Prim. About you. About Prince Dravic.”
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“You mean the same Dravic who risked his reputation to restore your estate? Who vouched for your loyalty?”
I flinched.
“You humiliated him. And me.”
“I wasn’t lying!” I cried. “The Rum Kingdom isn’t quiet because they’ve forgiven us. They’re planning something–”
“You will not lecture me about diplomacy,” he interrupted. “And you will not disgrace your family’s name. Your father and brothers earned their honor. Do not undo it with your bitterness.”
He dismissed me with a wave.
“Take her back,” he ordered the guards. “Three months‘ isolation. She is not to leave her pack.”
“But–”
“Not another word, Lady Xendale.”
Two of the king’s personal guards flanked me, motioning toward the doors. I walked without resistance, my hands clenched so tight they shook.
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By the time we returned to the estate, night had fallen.
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The torches were lit along the driveway, casting golden shadows across the stone walls. I kept my head high, hiding the burn of humiliation under my skin.
I stepped down from the carriage—and froze.
Kael was waiting outside my door.
He stood with his arms crossed, face tight with anger. His jaw was clenched, his eyes full of contempt. I noticed the way his gaze flicked toward the guards trailing me—the king’s guards—and how his posture stiffened.
“What were you doing at the palace?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. I stepped past him and started toward the
entrance.
“Marcia,” he snapped, stepping in front of me. “Answer me.”
I stared at him flatly. “Why do you care?”
“Because the King left my wedding without a word. Because the nobles started whispering again. Because my mother collapsed from the shame and is still bedridden.”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” I said coolly.
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His eyes flashed. “So it was you. You were the reason the king was so cold. You filled his head with false accusations against
us.”
I crossed my arms, slowly shaking my head at him.
“You tried to sabotage my wedding,” he continued, face red with anger. “You can’t handle losing, so even after you got everything you wanted, you’re still playing with my reputation like it’s a game.”
“Your pack’s reputation was already sinking,” I shot back. “I kept it afloat for a year while you were off chasing glory with her.”
His nostrils flared. “You owe me, Marcia.”
“What do you want?” I asked dully.
“Just what you owe me. Compensation, Lady Marcia Xendale. For the damage you’ve done. For the dishonor. For the
embarrassment.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
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