NTR: King gets Cucked-Chapter 15: Veil of Deception

Althea's eyes fluttered open to the soft glow of morning light spilling through the silk-draped windows. A slow, sinking horror crept over her as the warmth of another body pressed against her back. Her breath hitched. She turned her head hesitantly, her heart pounding.

Karlos lay beside her, his toned, caramel-skinned body bare, his dark amber eyes already open and watching her. A lazy smirk curled on his lips.

"That was something else, huh?" he murmured, stretching as if he had woken from the most satisfying sleep.

Althea's stomach twisted. She clutched the silk sheets to her naked form, her mind clawing at the fragments of the previous night. There were flashes—his hands on her, her own body responding, pleasure unlike anything she had ever known. But the more she tried to grasp at the details, the more they slipped like sand through her fingers.

Karlos chuckled, shifting onto his side to face her. "I must admit, I never expected Her Highness to be so... insatiable." His fingers traced the air just above her arm, tauntingly close. "I hope I was able to satisfy you."

Althea's breath came shallow, her grip on the blanket tightening. "I—" Her words failed her. Had she truly wanted this? The haze in her mind made it impossible to tell.

"You were the one who came to me, you know," Karlos continued, amusement in his tone. "Practically begging." He let out a sigh of mock contemplation. "I was hesitant at first, but who was I to refuse my queen?"

"No..." Althea whispered, shaking her head. That couldn't be right. And yet, doubt wormed its way into her heart. Her body had responded to him so easily. Had she really...?

Sensing her internal conflict, Karlos softened his voice. "I would never speak of this, of course. It wouldn't be proper for a queen to be caught in the arms of her subordinate." He offered a knowing smile. "Consider it our little secret."

Althea swallowed hard. Shame flooded her. He had helped the kingdom. He had been nothing but loyal. She had no excuse. This could never happen again.

"Y-Yes," she murmured. "This never happened."

Karlos merely smirked as she hurriedly gathered her clothes, still damp with last night's sin, and slipped out of his chambers. As she walked, her thighs trembled, her mind a battlefield of guilt and confusion.

⸻

Later that Morning – The Palace

A thick vial of dark liquid sat on Karlos's table. He rolled it between his fingers, watching the way the viscous substance clung to the glass.

"The Mind-Tampering Elixir," he mused.

He could still hear the old sorcerer Albus's raspy words: One drop and the memories blur. Two, and the mind bends to suggestion.

Karlos grinned. Althea was delightful. And now she's mine.

⸻

Althea wandered the halls, her stomach churning. Nyra found her by the garden terrace, her coral-blue hair catching in the breeze.

"You look unwell," Nyra said, concern lacing her voice. "Did something happen?"

Althea forced a smile. "No. Just a restless night."

Nyra frowned but didn't press. Still, the unease in her gut deepened. Something wasn't right.

⸻

Tiham – Eastern Draconian Territory

Zyran swirled his tea, his blue eyes scanning the luxurious manor of House Ravenwood. Across from him, Lord Cedric Ravenwood sat, his demeanor outwardly respectful but inwardly tense.

"We are honored to have you here, Your Majesty," Cedric said with a courteous bow of his head.

House Ravenwood had been a minor house once, but after Draconia's fall, they had risen in prominence—suspiciously so. They had prospered under Grimgaard's rule, a clear sign of their loyalty to the empire.

"You needn't have come all this way," Cedric continued. "We would have gladly traveled to Drakestone."

Zyran smiled, but his words were sharp. "I find it necessary to see things for myself."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning casual but firm. "I have been reviewing the tax records, Lord Ravenwood. It appears that the eastern provinces have been sending considerably less than what was expected."

Cedric stiffened before quickly recovering. "Your Majesty, those arrangements were made with Viceroy Durin. He deemed the amounts fair and sufficient given the region's needs."

Zyran nodded, sipping his tea. "Ah, yes. The Viceroy. A reasonable man, certainly." He let the words hang before setting his cup down with a soft clink. "Yet, times change. My kingdom needs its due."

Cedric hesitated, then forced a smile. "Of course, Your Majesty. If there has been an oversight, we will rectify it."

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"There has been," Zyran stated plainly. "I expect the full amount in the next tax collection. No 'oversights.'"

Cedric's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Understood."

Zyran stood. "Good. Then we have nothing more to discuss."

⸻

Outside the manor, Zyran walked with his advisor, Evrin Brightwood.

Evrin scoffed. "I never liked that man. House Ravenwood has always been spineless, hiding behind the empire's favor."

Evrin's distaste for Cedric ran deeper than just politics. His own House Brightwood had long feuded with the Ravenwoods. But more than that, his father, Levi Brightwood, had been a loyal noble to King Dylan. He had died in battle, and Evrin—like many others—placed the blame squarely on Princess Drucila for the fall of Draconia. Yet, despite his grudges, Evrin had managed to retain his position in the council through sheer cunning.

At first, he had doubted Zyran, assuming him to be another weak monarch, indulgent and oblivious. But in this journey, Evrin had begun to see something else—a keen mind, a potential leader.

"Perhaps you will be a true king after all," Evrin mused.

Zyran chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Yet, as he mounted his horse, a shadow loomed over his thoughts.

What else awaits me at home?

Unbeknownst to him, back in Drakestone, his queen lay tangled in deceit, her body defiled, her mind tampered with, and her guilt festering like an unseen wound.