Sold To The Cruel Pr Chapter 84: To Lay Claim

Chapter 84: To Lay Claim

Although Aveline was oblivious to the full aning of it, she could still feel the tension crackling between the n around her.

And sohow, absurdly, she was the one caught in the middle.

But why?

She was not left in her thoughts for long when Hamilton peeked out from her pocket.

The mont he saw her trapped between two n, his little face darkened in unmistakable displeasure. He opened his mouth, snub nose twitching, and Aveline’s eyes widened in alarm.

He was about to sneeze.

And if he sneezed...

"Let go!" she cried, struggling against both grips.

Aelion released her first, likely more from surprise and knowing that he had lost his propriety, rather than obedience, but Kael held on for another mont longer.

"Let go!" Aveline repeated, glaring at him now with enough force to cut steel.

At last, Kael let go.

Aveline imdiately tucked a soothing hand over Hamilton in her pocket, patting him until the tiny creature settled, then marched toward her room with her chin lifted high.

On her way past Theron, she bumped hard into his arm on purpose, just enough to make her displeasure perfectly clear.

What did these n think she was?

She had finally managed to have a warm bath, had just begun to relax, and now her back and abdon were aching again, all because they had turned a simple robe into so grand disaster.

It was not even a velvet robe, or anything embroidered and precious. It was just a plain night robe. Yet sohow all three of them had behaved as though it were a relic from a royal vault.

Muttering under her breath, Aveline went back to her room in a foul mood.

Theron watched her go, and despite himself, the corner of his mouth curved.

He rubbed the arm she had struck, amusent flashing in his eyes.

She was still spirited.

Good. That was a relief.

Kael darted a glance at him, and the look said everything. He would follow Aveline to make sure she actually went to her room and did not wander off sowhere else. Babysitting that woman felt like a full-ti occupation.

Theron’s attention then shifted to Aelion.

He had never crossed paths with the man before. They did not move in the sa circles, did not share the sa company, and had never once exchanged more than a passing awareness of each other’s existence.

And yet this man had dared to look at Aveline as though she belonged to him.

How dare he?

Aelion’s servants quickly knelt the mont they realized who stood before them, dropping to the floor in the presence of the crown prince. One of the older servants tried to coax Aelion into bowing as well, but he did not so much as bend his spine. Not even to pretend.

Aelion’s eyes lingered in the direction where Aveline had disappeared.

Theron’s hands curled into fists.

"Why are you not at the feast, Lord Sylvarien?" Theron asked.

Then, as though he had suddenly rembered sothing he should not have said out loud, he drew a hand across his forehead and added with mild amusent, "Right. Your father only gave you his na and nothing else. You are not invited to royal feasts."

Aelion gave a soft chuckle. "That is rich, coming from a prince who does not even hold the heart of his father or the people."

Theron’s smile did not falter.

The words struck true, but not only because Aelion had spoken them.

Aveline had a terrible habit of caring for the ones everyone else cast aside.

Would she pity this man too?

"Aveline, hm?" Aelion said, his tone turning lightly teasing. "For soone from Aurelmont, she is rather pretty. Is she a relative of Lord Vantaris?"

Theron let out a scoff. "And what made you think you deserve those details?"

Aelion leaned forward slightly.

Theron was taller, yet Aelion’s easy smile carried such a sharp undertone that it did not matter. The air between them tightened anyway.

"Did you not hear ?" Aelion said. "She said she owes ."

Theron’s lips curved, slow and dangerous.

Then his eyes changed... into sothing sharper, like sunlight forced through a blade. His dark irises split, a bright glow cutting through the center of his gaze and turning it unmistakably inhuman... fox-like.

Aelion staggered back.

The hallway warped.

It stretched too long, too narrow, bending in places it should not have bent. Theron’s face blurred, not disappearing, but fracturing, his features slipping and shifting, colors bleeding where they should not have been, refusing to settle into anything stable.

Aelion knew this power.

He knew what was happening.

He reached for the mory of Aveline’s face... But it would not stay.

Her eyes shifted. Her features dissolved and reford, light seeping through the recollection like water through ink.

The harder he tried to hold onto her, the less certain she beca.

And then...

There was only the uneasy, hollow sensation that he had forgotten sothing terribly important.

Theron stepped back and looked at his hand. Usually, he would have to touch that person to distort their vision and mory. How co he could do it without touching?

"Your Royal Highness," Aelion said, bowing at last.

Theron cast one brief look around the corridor.

It was silent now.

Every servant there had seen the distortion, seen the impossible bend of mory and light. But that was enough. How he did it didn’t matter.

No one would rember Aveline clearly. No one would carry her face away from this corridor.

Satisfied, Theron turned and left.

Back in the room, Kael waited outside while Aveline sat on the bed with her cheeks puffed out and her arms folded tightly over her chest.

What did those n think she was?

And Theron... she had thought he had left her, only to return and order her about a robe? Of all things, a robe?

She stared at the door, waiting. Waiting for him to explain himself.

Otherwise...

Even before the thought could fully settle, the door opened.

Only the fingers curling around the edge gave him away. Aveline knew it was Theron at once.

With a huff, she flopped backward onto the bed, turned her back to him, and pulled the blanket up over her face.

Theron shut the door and locked it behind him.

Outside, Kael heard the latch click into place and exhaled quietly. Had his liege not ant to keep his distance? Then why lock the door from the inside?

Theron walked to the bed and sat beside her.

His gaze flicked to Hamilton, now no larger than a garden lizard, glaring at him with all the fury he could manage in such a tiny body. Adorable, really, though clearly offended.

"Aveline..." Theron said softly, placing a hand on her arm.

"Hmpf."

She shook his hand off with a sharp little motion.

His mouth curved, despite himself. "Do not accept cloaks or robes from other n."

Aveline’s lips trembled, ready to ask him why. This man was impossible. Infuriating. He had vanished for an entire day, let her sit in confusion, and now he returned to scold her over a robe?

But Theron went on before she could speak.

"In Greenvale, a man covers his wife with his cloak during their wedding ceremony," he said. "And a man’s night robe is worn by his wife as a sign of a consummated marriage. He was being disrespectful when he asked you to keep it."

He had known she would not listen without an explanation. Not when the robe carried such an intimate aning. Not when the sight of her in another man’s clothing made sothing ugly twist in his chest.

He did not want anyone misunderstanding.

And, if he were honest, he did not want to be angered by the idea of her accepting another man’s robe either.

Aveline said nothing. She tried very hard to keep her silence.

But then the words slipped out, sharp and deliberately cruel, because she knew exactly where they would strike.

"He is pretty. And he didn’t hesitate. Why shouldn’t I accept his robe? Should I not have a family of my own?"

He didn’t get to control her if he wouldn’t claim her!

Theron’s hand, reaching for her arm, stilled in midair.

His fingers trembled.