Chapter 17: Honey Wrapped in Poison

Becky let out a sigh. "Yes, actually," she leaned in, her voice lowering. "It’s about last night, Hazel. If anyone asks about the consummation, if anyone presses you on it, just say it happened, okay? You don’t have to go into detail. Just say you and Conan were together, and that you’re very happy. If they try to say why can’t they smell it, you can say—"

Hazel didn’t let her finish.

"Wait," her head snapped toward Becky, eyes narrowing as she pieced the puzzle together. "So there was truly something wrong with not consummating the marriage," she said. "And you didn’t think to tell me when I asked you the first time?"

Becky’s face twisted with guilt from the emotion of betrayal Hazel felt. "I know, I know. I just didn’t want to make you panic. You were already so scared, and I thought—"

"You thought what? So much for ’why would I lie to you’." Hazel cut her off, feeling her fingers shake. She forced herself to breathe.

"Your advice is noted. You may return to your seat."

"Hazel, wait—"

"Go," Hazel said, her voice icy. "I need some air. Please."

Becky looked like she had been slapped, and her face crumbled with hurt. She opened her mouth to say something, but Hazel had already turned away, her gaze fixed on the back of the ballroom.

Becky lingered for a moment, her hand hovering near Hazel’s arm.

"I am sorry for withholding the truth from you, Hazel," she apologised before she turned and walked away.

~

The next hour passed in a blur. Guests approached with congratulations and pleasantries, their words poison wrapped in honey. Hazel smiled and nodded, her mind a thousand miles away, wrapped up in the mystery of her husband.

Finally, the crowd began to disperse, and Hazel returned to her seat, her gloved hands twisting in her lap.

Conan appeared beside her, sliding into his chair without a word.

He looked furious.

Furious was frankly an understatement. His eyes had their strange red glow, and he was taking harsh laboured breaths. The rage burning in his eyes made Hazel’s stomach clench.

She wanted to ask, What’s wrong? What did your mother say? Why are you so upset?

But she couldn’t.

The music faded into a soft hum, and the MC’s booming voice cut through the crowd once more.

"My lords and ladies, honored guests! Before we continue the festivities, we would like to extend the floor to anyone who wishes to share a few words for our beloved King and Queen. Come forward, speak your piece, and let your voice be heard!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Several guests exchanged glances, but no one moved.

But then....

Hazel heard the footsteps.

Rosie Bennet sauntered forward, her hips swaying with every step, and she was wearing an insufferable smile that made Hazel’s skin crawl.

Rosie looked gorgeous. Her crimson gown hugged her curves, and her white-streaked hair fell in glossy waves over her shoulders.

Conan straightened in his seat, his fingers going still.

She stopped before them, dipping into a graceful curtsy that was anything but respectful.

"Your Majesties," she cooed, her voice laced with a false sweetness. "What a beautiful celebration. Truly a party to remember."

Hazel forced a smile onto her face. "Thank you, Rosie."

"Oh, please, there’s no need to thank me, my Queen," Rosie purred, straightening up. Her eyes swept over Hazel, taking in every detail of her gown, her hair, her posture. "You have done quite well for yourself, haven’t you? I must say, the dress is lovely. Truly fits the occasion."

"Thank you," Hazel repeated, her voice quieter now.

What is she up to?

Rosie’s smile widened, and she turned her gaze to Conan, her eyes softening with feigned adoration. "And the King, well, what can I say? He has always been the most magnificent creature in any room. The way he commands the crowd, the way he carries himself, it is truly a sight to behold. The Bloodmoon pack, and all Lycans are blessed to have such a leader."

Conan clenched his jaw, but he said nothing.

Rosie’s smile grew. Then she clasped her hands together, her expression shifting to one of feigned concern.

"Now, I couldn’t help but think, and forgive me, Your Majesties, for I speak only out of concern for the crown and my pack, that we are all simply dying to know one thing."

Conan’s growl was impatient. "Get to the point, Rosie."

She dipped her head in a mock bow. "Of course, my King. It has come to my knowledge, by word of the elders of course, that you did not infact consummate your union."

Gasps rippled across the crowd.

"Is there any truth to that?"

From the back, Becky’s glass of champagne slipped from her hand, tumbling to the floor with a loud crash.

Oh fuck.