Stolen by the Beastly Lycan King-Chapter 114: What If?

"Did you do it?"

Naveen’s sharp voice cut through the silence, her piercing blue eyes narrowing as they landed on the princess sleeping soundly in Rhaegar’s embrace. Her gaze lingered on the faint bite marks scattered across the girl’s tender skin.

Rhaegar shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, his jaw tightening as he cleared his throat. He adjusted the blanket, pulling it higher to conceal the marks from view. Naveen’s expression didn’t waver, her focus remaining steadfast as she awaited his response.

"I did what you asked," Rhaegar said, deftly steering the conversation back to the important matter at hand. "When she started acting strangely, I bit my lip and had her taste my blood. Her reaction was just as you described. It seems my blood managed to stir some of her real feelings to the surface."

Naveen tilted her head slightly, listening intently as his words trailed off. She remained silent, her thoughtful gaze fixed on him before shifting to Lorelai’s serene face. Slowly, she stepped closer to the bed, the soft rustle of her robes the only sound in the quiet room.

"Then my assumptions were correct," she said at last, "her mind is no longer her own. I can sense traces of powerful witchcraft weaving through her, corrupting her very essence. It’s already begun to creep into her soul. Soon, she’ll be nothing more than an empty doll—void of will, of thought, of everything that makes her who she is."

Rhaegar’s jaw clenched as he listened, his expression darkening.

With a deep sigh, he let his hand fall gently to Lorelai’s head, his fingers stroking through her silken hair. For an instant, the storm within him seemed to calm, the edges of his fury softened by her peaceful presence.

But the moment he withdrew his hand, the anger surged back like a tidal wave, flooding his veins with renewed intensity. His fists tightened as his golden eyes burned with frustration.

"It’s remarkable, really," Naveen observed, her voice cutting through his rage like a blade. She fixed him with a cold, knowing stare, the corners of her lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. "You two are perfectly matched. But this time..." Her tone dropped, becoming almost taunting as she leaned closer. "Rejection might actually kill you, Rhaegar."

The man arched a brow as the witch’s words sank in. He already knew that Lorelai was his mate—their connection was undeniable.

Even his wolf, who had been stubbornly silent for months, had broken its self-imposed exile, growling and purring with satisfaction every time the princess was near.

Still, Rhaegar couldn’t shake his skepticism. While he was aware that rejecting one’s fated mate was a painful ordeal, it was hardly something that could kill him.

"Why do you think that?" he asked, his tone tinged with doubt.

Naveen shook her head, her icy blue eyes narrowing in reproach. "You haven’t touched your cigars in days, have you?"

Her words struck a nerve. Rhaegar winced, realization dawning on him.

She was right—he hadn’t felt the familiar ache that usually gnawed at his body, the ache that demanded relief. It had been several days since he’d even thought about his cigars, the relief they brought replaced by something... or rather, someone else.

"It’s her," Naveen continued as she gestured toward the sleeping princess with a slight nod of her chin. "She feels it too, you know. It’s subtle, but it’s there. The pain in her right hip... it’s eased. I’d wager she can go an entire day without relying on her cane."

Rhaegar’s amber eyes drifted to Lorelai, his gaze softening while he studied her features in the dim light.

Once pale and sickly, her face now carried a healthy glow, her soft cheeks faintly flushed with color. The witch was right—again. Her presence wasn’t just affecting him; it was healing her, too.

The queen’s relentless torture—through bloodletting, starvation, and forcing Lorelai to ingest various potions and herbal concoctions—continued to ravage the princess’s already fragile body. Yet, after every intimate encounter with Rhaegar, it was as if new life surged within her, as though she had been awakened from the depths of despair.

"The physical afflictions..." Rhaegar began cautiously, "I’ve heard rumors that Lorelai was declared barren. Do you think... could that also be the queen’s doing?"

Naveen nodded solemnly, her eyes clouded with sadness. "Most likely. Though her exact motives for doing so remain unclear, it seems deliberate."

"Duke of Kadler," Rhaegar replied in a low voice. His scowl deepened, his amber eyes darkening with rage. "The queen sold Lorelai to him in exchange for his political and financial backing. But she couldn’t risk Lorelai bearing his child. If she had given birth to a son, he would have been granted the title of prince and a legitimate claim to the throne. That was a risk the queen couldn’t allow."

Naveen’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression grim. "I can’t decide whether her cruelty is that of a ghoul or something even worse—a human devoid of a soul."

She closed her eyes briefly, as if mourning the fractured fate that had been forced upon Lorelai. When she opened them again, her irises glimmered with an otherworldly, dark light, carrying the weight of something sinister.

"Your bond with her," she finally continued, "is indeed miraculous. It’s healing her shattered body, bit by bit. But her mind... that’s where my greatest concern lies. There are so many lingering spells woven into her psyche—so many twisted threads and knots that seem impossible to unravel."

Naveen paused, her brows furrowing in concentration. "And yet... there are locks, too. Sealed memories. Buried emotions. It’s as though someone is attempting to rewrite her entire sense of self, erasing what she once knew about her life."

Rhaegar’s frown deepened as he ran his long fingers through his unruly, curly hair. Frustration churned within him, but it was anger—raw and unrelenting—that threatened to break his composure.

No wonder she didn’t remember me... We were far too old for her to forget.

A long, weary sigh escaped his lips.

"She doesn’t want her dead," he said finally, breaking the heavy silence. His tone had dropped, colder now, with an edge that could cut through steel. "No, the queen wants her obedient—docile, hollow, empty. But it’s not her doing this. It’s the crown prince. He’s the one obsessed with her. He needs her like that because he knows she would never choose him willingly."

Naveen listened, her expression grim.

"Whatever their reasons, the queen’s spells grow stronger by the day. I don’t know what she and the prince are planning for the kingdom, but I’m certain their ambitions are grand—and sinister. The princess might survive if she submits to them, but her body, her soul... everything that makes her who she is will be consumed by their cruelty."

Rhaegar’s amber eyes darkened, his wolf stirring restlessly within him.

"What if I kill them both?"