Chapter 98

Violet

The combat matches drew to a close rather quickly. No one was dragging it out after Lucas and Owen had been tossed around like helpless chickens for nearly an hour. I won't say that it wasn't entertaining to watch Lucas land hard and fast at the feet of men several times his age. Owen was no better, puffing and hissing about it al, but still refusing to conceded, which was the only way to end a hand-to-hand match.

The crowd murmured amongst themselves. Noble after noble exchanged quiet laughter and sharp comments about the outcome, their collective amusement at Owen and Lucas’s humiliating defeats woven into every word.

“They really thought they could walk in uninvited and make a show of themselves,” one remarked, shaking his head.

“I’d almost feel sorry for them if it wasn’t so well-deserved,” another replied with a chuckle.

Theodore was sitting, laughing joking, cheering as if he had always been a part of the noble class. It warmed me. Lucas had never managed to earn their respect, never managed to actually come to a tea party either, refusing to come. Looking back it was probably just a petty rebellion against the fact that he would never be anything more than the public facing placeholder alpha.

And for good reason. When Lucas lifted his head from the mud puddle he'd landed in, he looked sour-faced, furious, glaring back at Theodore as he burst into laughter with the man sitting beside him. Then, he glared at me. Owen looked like he'd eaten a lemon from the way he glared at Theodore as well, though at least his face wasn't covered in mud.

I guessed that their opponents had agreed that Lucas deserved the brunt of the abuse, or at least deserved to have his clothes ruined first. Finally, they caved. Owen first then Lucas who just flopped on the ground. A set of knights and attendants came to get them up and haul them inside to where the makeshift infirmry was. They looked pitiful being hauled toward the infirmary area, their bodies slumped and barely able to hold their weight. Nora and the luna queen trailed behind them, heads bowed as if trying to make themselves invisible, slinking away from the crowd.

I doubted they'd be coming to dinner. There was a good chance they'd be in too much pain to think about it.

Seraphine would be happy about that.

I shook my head, watching the rest of the matches. Some of the victories were surprises, but they were mostly expected. The power dynamics between the noble packs hadn't changed much over the years, from father to son and so on.

“They didn’t even stay to see the final matches,” someone nearby muttered, their voice tinged with disdain. “And to think they came here uninvited. Seraphine, tell me you plan to press charges?”

"I'm working Dorian around to the idea. If they even think they can stay in my home, I won't have a choice!"

I chuckled at that. I leaned back, observing the scene with mild curiosity. Someone mentioned that Nora hadn’t touched her plate during lunch, and a thought struck me. If she’s pregnant, the richness of the food might have overwhelmed her senses. Despite everything, the idea of her sitting there, starving and uncomfortable, nagged at me.

Nora was… guilty of course, but she wasn't completely to blame for the situation she was in. She slept with a married man, yes. She was standing beside him, of course. But she was also in this country that had shifted to nearly hating women simply for existing as disgusting as it was.

I had to leave room to have the grace to think that maybe she was just trapped in the system and trying to make the best of the situation as she could. And yet, I sighed, wishing that my own heart was a bit harder.

She was pregnant so quickly and the Goddess had never even pretended to gift me with such a gift. Sure, if Lucas and I had a child while we were married, the whole divorce situation would be a billion times ore complicated.

That didn’t mean I couldn't be upset about it.

During the brief pause in the matches, I excused myself and made my way inside, in search of a few attendants. I got them to make a simple plate of lighter, more neutral options—plain bread, some sliced fruit, a simple broth, and lightly seasoned meat. At the least the scents wouldn't make her throw up and she could probably keep it down. I hesitated at the doorway. Seraphine would be upset, sure. Did Nora even deserve the kindness? She hadn't exactly been nice or apologetic about all of this…

I shook my head. My conscience would nag at me all night if I didn't, and I had better plans to enact tonight with my husband than worrying about my ex-husband's mistress. I licked my lips thinking about the look in Theodore's eye before he'd stolen that kiss.

Yeah. A lot better things to think about.

Balancing the plate, I made my way toward the makeshift infirmary. The atmosphere shifted as I approached, the vibrant energy of the matches fading into a quieter, more subdued space.

The infirmary was far from peaceful. Owen’s angry voice echoed through the room, filled with hisses and threats.

“I’ll have every single one of you arrested for this disgraceful treatment!” he snapped, his face flushed with both pain and fury. “This is unacceptable! Where are the proper medical supplies? Where are the potions?”

Well, almost peaceful.

Inside, Owen and Lucas lay on separate cots, their wounds barely treated beyond the necessary minimum. Bandages were hastily applied, and there was no sign of the careful attention usually given to them. It was clear they were being afforded only the barest courtesy. Nora sat on a wooden chair near Lucas’s cot, her hands resting on her lap, her face pale. She looked up as I entered, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. Owen’s wife was seated farther back, her expression distant and cold. She looked deeply unhappy sitting there.

The attending doctor, a weary-looking man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose, barely flinched. “I’m afraid there are none available, Alpha King,” he replied, his tone neutral but pointed. “We’re not skilled enough—or licensed under your laws—to administer magical potions. We can only handle basic injuries. Anything else requires special authorization or equipment we don’t have here.”

Owen’s face twisted into an even darker scowl, and his wife, seated stiffly on a chair nearby, looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"What kind of nonsense is that?" He snarled. "That's bullshit! Bring me potions at once!"

It wasn't. Everything she said was true and for good reason.

The tension in the room was stifling, but I walked in as though I didn’t notice. Balancing the plate of food I’d prepared, I let my gaze sweep over the room, taking in every detail. Lucas lay on one of the cots, his face contorted in discomfort. When he saw me, his eyes lit up with something like hope.

“Violet,” he said, his voice strained but almost warm.

I ignored him, stepping instead toward Nora, who was seated stiffly by his bedside. She looked up, startled, her eyes darting nervously between the plate and me.

“You didn’t eat earlier,” I said calmly, setting the plate down on the small table beside her. “I thought this might suit you better.”

Lucas’s expression shifted instantly, his brows knitting together in suspicion.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and accusatory. “Are you trying to poison her? Trying to kill my child?”

I didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, I turned toward the doctor. “Could you come here for a moment, please? Tasting protocol.”

The doctor approached, clearly bemused. Behind him, a few of the serving staff and guards had paused to observe. Owen, too, was watching with narrowed eyes, his expression already calculating. It was pure protocol at this point that I afford her all the courtesy I would to anyone else who would have actually been invited to the event.

It was all finger food, so I popped a piece of each into my mouth letting the doctor observe me.

Nothing happened, of course, and I set the plate beside her, meeting her wide, uncertain gaze.

“The choice to eat is yours,” I said softly. “But the child shouldn’t have to suffer for its parents’ decisions.”

Her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but no words came. Slowly, I straightened, turning to leave.

“Violet!” Lucas called out after me, his voice raw and desperate. “Violet, wait!”

I didn’t stop.

As I reached the door, another voice cut through the tense air, sharp and commanding.

“Lady Donovan.”

I stopped midway through the doorway, my hand on the doorframe. Slowly, I turned to face Owen, who was watching me with cold, calculating eyes.

“Yes?” I asked, my tone as calm and unflinching as ever.