Chapter 150 - - 150 - Cornered Queen

Chapter 150: Chapter - 150 - Cornered Queen

By the time afternoon settled over the city, Vex had returned once again to the safe house to deliver her report for the second time with more information. She stepped inside, her body still recovering from the overwhelming sensations of the night before.

Hours earlier, as Lucien and Zaria had been completely consumed by their intense, passionate encounter, Vex had stood concealed in the dark hallway just outside the cracked door of the bedchamber. The heavy, rhythmic sounds of their bodies slamming together, Zaria’s helpless, loud moans of pleasure, and the sheer sight of Lucien’s commanding presence had driven Vex completely out of her mind.

Standing in the shadows, Vex had unfastened her robes, sliding her hand down beneath the fabric. One of her hands squeezed her own bare breast firmly, her thumb rolling over her hardened nipple, while her other hand plunged between her thighs, her fingers slipping frantically into her drenched, aching center. She had watched every thrust, every touch, and every hot release shared between them, her own fingers matching Lucien’s relentless rhythm inside Zaria.

The friction, combined with the hot sight of her mistress surrendering completely to Lucien, had pushed Vex right over the edge. Her body had violently shuddered in a quiet, breathless orgasm, her sweet essence pouring over her fingers and soaking the hem of her clothes as she collapsed against the cold wall in sheer ecstasy.

Now, hours later, inside the private quarters, Lucien and Zaria were already fully dressed, though the quiet, heavy intimacy lingering in the room left no doubt about what had transpired between them during the long hours before.

Vex stepped into the room, bowing her head slightly to hide the lingering flush on her cheeks. "Lady Zaria, I have gathered some very important information regarding the Queen and Prince Varen."

Zaria straightened her spine, her posture shifting effortlessly into that of a royal. "What is it?" she asked with quiet dignity.

"The Queen is sending her son to the King’s chambers tonight," Vex revealed, her tone serious. "He is going to try to convince the King that he was merely a victim of the Queen’s manipulation."

Lucien listened to the news from where he stood. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips as he looked toward Vex. "Not the move I expected from the Queen, but still predictable."

Zaria turned her gaze to him, a faint furrow appearing on her brow. "What do we do then?"

"We let him try. And we make sure the King doesn’t believe him." Lucien stood up, extending his arms in a lazy stretch. "Zaria, you need to be at your father’s bedside tonight. When your brother arrives, you need to be there to remind your father who really stood by him."

Zaria gave a firm, resolute nod. "And you?"

"I have other business." Lucien’s smile widened slightly, his eyes cold and calculating. "The Queen thinks she has plans. I’m going to show her that hers don’t matter."

Later that evening, thick shadows stretched across the grand corridors of the royal palace. Prince Varen slipped through the quiet halls, arriving at the King’s private chambers, only to stop dead in his tracks. His sister was already there.

Zaria sat quietly on a wooden chair beside their father’s bed, holding the old man’s hand in her own. The King looked visibly stronger than he had days ago—far from fully recovered, but alert, clear-eyed, and acutely aware of his surroundings.

Varen hesitated at the threshold, his posture rigid and his hands trembling slightly at his sides. "Father... I need to speak with you."

The King did not turn his head immediately, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I know why you’re here," he said, his voice flat and icy. "Your mother sent you."

"No—I mean, yes, but I wanted to come," Varen stammered, stepping into the dim light of the room, his face pale with anxiety. "I wanted to tell you the truth. She forced me. She manipulated me. I never wanted to hurt Zaria. Everything I did, she told me to do. I just wanted to become a good king like you, Father."

Zaria watched her brother from across the bed with calm, assessing eyes. She remained entirely silent, letting his desperate words echo in the space between them.

The King remained still for a long, heavy moment. A weary sigh escaped his lips as he finally turned his head to look at his son.

"You’re a fool, Varen. You’ve always been a fool. But you’re still my son." The King closed his eyes, his breathing heavy. "Get out. I’ll decide what to do with you later. Right now I’m not in a good mood to talk. I need rest."

Relief washed visibly over Varen’s tense face. He bowed quickly, stepping backward out of the chamber as fast as his feet could carry him.

Once the heavy doors clicked shut, Zaria gently squeezed her father’s hand. "You believe him?"

"I believe he’s a coward. That’s not the same as innocent," the King replied, opening his eyes to look at his daughter. "But I won’t kill him. Not yet."

In a world ruled by Realm Masters, power was the only currency that truly mattered. When supreme strength and absolute authority were on the line, ties of blood meant nothing. Son, brother, fiancée, or wife—people readily abandoned every shred of morality if it meant securing a path to power.

The Council of Succession was now only two days away.

High above the bustling capital, Lucien stood on the open balcony of the Golden Leaf Pavilion, gazing out over the sprawling city skyline. The grand festival had officially drawn to a close, but the streets below remained packed with life. Merchants hawked their rare goods, young cultivators flexed their spiritual aura to impress crowds, and ordinary folk moved through the thoroughfares, entirely unaware of the political storm brewing in the palace.

In two days, everything in this kingdom would change.

Lucien smiled faintly to himself, turning around to raise his glass toward Maisy, who was leaning against the grand railing nearby, her cheeks flushed with a soft, radiant glow.

"To the future Queen of Veylcrest," Lucien said, his tone smooth as he took a sip of the dark wine. "May she never forget who put her there."

Maisy offered a soft smile, her eyes shining as she looked at him. "Lucien... I am now at the peak of the Vein Opening Realm. It seems like our dual cultivation worked really well."

"Of course it would work," Lucien replied with a smirk, stepping closer to her until the distance between them evaporated. "After all, you were really good at that. I never thought my Maisy would be so good at taking it in her mouth."

Maisy’s face flushed deep crimson. Endearingly embarrassed, she raised her hand and punched his arm in a playful tease. "You’re teasing me again! Even though we spent our first night here, for me, my most memorable memory is still that cave. It was beautiful."

Lucien’s eyes softened slightly as he looked down at her face, remembering the flickering firelight and the quiet seclusion of that night. "For me as well. Especially when your clothes became wet and were touching your skin, revealing every single curve of your body."

"You’re still thinking about that?" Maisy asked, ducking her head with a shy chuckle. "But you have already seen everything by now, so it shouldn’t be special anymore, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Lucien murmured, his voice dipping low as he reached out to wrap his fingers around hers. "It’s always special for me, no matter how many times I see you."

"Is that true, or are you just trying to sweet-talk me?" Maisy asked softly, gazing up into his eyes, her pulse quickening under his warm touch.

"When have I ever needed to lie to you?" Lucien smiled, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles. "Every inch of you belongs to me, Maisy. And every time I look at you, I remember exactly how sweet you taste."

"Lucien..." she whispered, her heart fluttering as the heat returned to her cheeks. She squeezed his hand firmly. "Sometimes you sound so ruthless to everyone else, but when you’re with me..."

"With you, I get to enjoy what’s mine," Lucien said smoothly.

Holding his wine glass in one hand, he gently pulled her toward the large, silk-draped bed at the center of the pavilion room. Maisy sat on the edge of the mattress, her soft silk robes pooling around her hips. Lucien casually leaned down, resting his head comfortably in her lap, letting out a relaxed breath.

Maisy smiled fondly down at him. Her slender, warm fingers moved gently through his dark hair, stroking it with deep affection and care.

"You make everything look so effortless," Maisy murmured, looking down into his calm face. "The King, the Queen, the whole kingdom... you hold all of them in the palm of your hand, don’t you?"

"They are just pieces on a board," Lucien replied quietly, enjoying the gentle touch of her fingers against his scalp. "As long as you’re by my side, the rest of it is just entertainment."

Maisy leaned down slightly, her soft lips brushing against his forehead. "Then promise me you’ll always keep me close. I don’t ever want to be just a bystander in your world."

"You never will be," Lucien said, reaching up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her lip. "You’re already right where you belong."

Deep within the inner sanctum of the royal palace, Queen Veyra sat alone in her private chambers. The suffocating silence of the room was heavy, broken only by her rapid, uneven breathing. Her fingers twitched uncontrollably against the arms of her ornate chair, her manicured nails digging so hard into the polished wood that small splinters threatened to pierce her skin.

She had already received the discreet report of Prince Varen’s pathetic return from the King’s chambers. The gamble had failed completely. Varen had stammered out that Zaria stood at their father’s bedside like an inescapable shadow, watching his every move with cold, mocking eyes.

"Useless coward..." Veyra spat into the empty darkness, her jaw clenching so tight her teeth ground together. A cold sweat broke out along her neck as raw panic began to gnaw at her heart.

Everything she had meticulously built over decades—the bribes, the loyalties of the high council, her iron grip on the court—was crumbling in a matter of hours. The King was awake, lucid, and regaining his strength far too quickly. If he stood before the Council of Succession in two days and named Zaria his sole heir, Veyra would not merely lose her power; she would face execution for treason and regicide.

Zaria could never have organized such a seamless defense or demonstrated such sudden, unyielding political cunning on her own. It was all because of that strange, terrifying cultivator—Lucien. He was moving Zaria like a puppet, orchestrating every move from the shadows and neutralizing Veyra’s carefully laid traps before she could even spring them.

Lucien was the true threat. Yet, memories of his terrifying aura made her blood run cold. Challenging a monster like him directly was absolute suicide. She couldn’t kill him, and she knew it.

’But what about Zaria?’ Queen Veyra thought, her eyes wide, wild, and bloodshot as a dark, frantic realization took hold of her mind.

’If Zaria dies, the throne falls back to my bloodline. If Zaria dies, the King has no choice left! No matter how much he despises Varen, no matter how much he hates me, he cannot name an empty chair as his heir. If there is no competition left, even that Lucien won’t be able to do anything!’

Desperation consumed every corner of her mind. She was no longer calculating options; she was a cornered beast clawing wildly for survival.

Raising her trembling hand, Veyra snapped her fingers sharply.

The flickering candlelight in the corners of the room stretched and warped into pitch-black shadows. In a breath, twenty hooded figures clad in dark, light-absorbing gear materialized out of the dark, dropping seamlessly onto one knee before her desk. The air in the room instantly grew ice-cold with the thick, suffocating stench of blood and killing intent. They were her personal elite assassins—ruthless shadows who had executed countless silent murders in her name.

"My lady," the leader murmured, his voice sounding like dry leaves dragging across stone.

Veyra leaned forward over her desk, her posture tense and unhinged, her eyes gleaming with manic urgency. "I am giving you an absolute order. Failures will not be tolerated, and no excuses will save you."

She gripped the edge of her desk so tightly her knuckles turned ghostly white.

"No matter what happens, kill Princess Zaria."

The leader of the elite assassins lowered his head until his brow nearly touched the cold marble floor. "Yes, my lady. Consider it done. She will not see tomorrow’s sunrise."

"So when should we attack, my lady?" another assassin whispered from behind, his hand already resting on the hilt of a blackened blade.

Queen Veyra’s lips pulled back into a grim, ruthless snarl, her dark desire for survival burning brightly in her eyes. "Tonight."