THE KINGS CAPTIVE, HIS HEARTS CONQUEROR

EPISODE 12: BENEATH THE SURFACE

Althea finished her concoction and forced the bitter liquid down Aurelia’s throat. The princess remained unconscious, the concoction meant to keep her asleep and undisturbed for a while.

Edric stood waiting by the door, his posture rigid, as if prepared for whatever the king required. Althea gave a sharp nod, signaling that the princess could now be moved.

With careful hands, Edric bent down and lifted Aurelia, her midriff slung over his shoulder, her delicate back exposed to the world as if a mere object to be moved. The trip to the king’s chambers was uneventful, but there was an unsettling tension in the air.

Kaelen didn’t even glance up as they entered. The king remained seated behind his desk, scribbling words onto a scroll, as though nothing of consequence was happening in his own chambers.

“Make a bed for her by mine,” he commanded flatly.

Althea’s movements were swift and practiced, as she and Mira worked quickly to lay out a large, pristine bed beside the king’s. The bed was draped with new sheets, the space cordoned off with a curtain, a subtle but undeniable signal that this wasn’t just any servant.

Edric laid Aurelia down gently, ensuring her head rested comfortably to the side. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the sound of Aurelia’s steady breathing.

“You may leave,” Kaelen’s voice broke the quiet. It was final, commanding. Without another word, Althea, Mira, and Edric bowed and exited the room.

Mira’s steps faltered as she left, unease settling deep in her chest. The king hated the princess. So why bring her here? What if this was some twisted game? What if it was all just to punish her further?

But Althea was the one to speak, her calm tone offering some comfort. “She’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Mira nodded, but the worry still gnawed at her.

Kaelen leaned back in his chair, allowing his gaze to fall on the sleeping woman. Aurelia’s presence was an unsettling reminder of everything he had lost. His eyes fell to the empty side of the bed, the one once shared by Elara. The haunting memory of that day—the screams, the blood, the unrelenting guilt—pushed through him like a physical blow.

Eighteen-year-old Elara, pregnant with her child, her laughter silenced in an instant as Thorian’s men barged into the library. The horror on her face as they cut her open was still fresh in Kaelen’s mind, and it always would be.

The memories threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced them back, turning his attention back to Aurelia.

Meanwhile, in her room, Elaria paced relentlessly, her frustration bubbling up like a storm. The king’s decree had been unexpected—house arrest for three days, as though he were punishing her for a transgression she couldn’t even fathom. She was restless, furious at being treated this way, unable to stand being confined to her room.

She had considered slipping into the king’s chambers, but the idea of facing him now, when he was so obviously angry, seemed futile. Instead, she tried to focus on something else, anything to distract herself from the suffocating frustration gnawing at her.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Mistress, your food has arrived.”

Elaria dismissed the maid, her mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Aurelia. “What’s going on with the slave?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

The maid hesitated before answering. “I heard that Madam Althea and Mira applied herbs on her… She’s still unconscious, mistress.”

A surge of cruel satisfaction filled Elaria. She would have loved nothing more than to see the princess suffer until she broke. But no, she reminded herself, the princess wasn’t to die—at least not yet. Not when the king could hate her more.

Before the maid could leave, Elaria pulled her back. “There’s a rumor going around. Where is she now?”

The maid leaned in, her voice low. “They say the slave princess was taken to the king’s room… that’s where she is now.”

Elaria’s blood ran cold. “What?” she spat, the fury rising within her like wildfire. “What did you say?”

The maid quickly recoiled, clearly terrified by the intensity of Elaria’s anger. “It’s just a rumor, Mistress, I swear! But… no, she’s not in her room anymore. She’s in the king’s.”

Elaria’s heart clenched. She could hardly believe it—could it be true? The king’s slave, Aurelia, in his room? She had punished the princess just to assert her own power, but now it seemed her actions had only drawn Aurelia closer to Kaelen.

Hours later, Kaelen awoke to the sound of muffled whimpering. At first, he thought it was a dream, but no—Aurelia was restless in her sleep. The nightmares were clawing their way into her subconscious, dragging her back to the horror of her day.

Kaelen had been awake for hours, unable to sleep, and now he found himself staring at the woman who lay before him, caught in the grip of her mind’s torment.

It was Althea’s suggestion to bring Aurelia here, away from the noise of the palace. And though the king hadn’t called for her, he had accepted the offer. The nightmare was too vivid, and he couldn’t allow her to suffer alone.

He moved toward her, sitting beside the bed. Gently, he raised her head and brought a cup of water to her lips. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, a mix of confusion and vulnerability clouding her gaze.

“My King,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost broken.

Kaelen stiffened. Since that first night in the dungeon, she had never called him “my king” again. Why now?

“Drink,” he ordered sharply.

Aurelia hesitated, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “It’s not… poisoned?”

He frowned. “Why would it be?”

She winced slightly, her voice barely a whisper. “Because… you hate me.”

“I don’t want you dead, Aurelia,” Kaelen muttered, feeling a tightness in his chest.

She finally allowed herself to drink, her small hands gripping the fabric of his robe as if afraid he might take it away. Kaelen grimaced, uncomfortable with the proximity, but he let her. She wouldn’t remember any of this come morning, anyway.

When she finished, he withdrew the cup, but before he could leave, she clung to him, her dazed eyes searching his face.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“You’re drugged,” Kaelen answered flatly, feeling his own frustration build.

Aurelia’s hand found his scarred cheek, her fingers cold against his skin. “You… your eyes… they’re so cold.”

Kaelen looked down at her, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what to feel. What was she trying to say?

But it didn’t matter. The night had become nothing more than a blur of confusion, and he knew neither of them would remember it by morning.