Later that evening, Luna Dowager Christine sought out Joline in Dronti’s suite.
Joline had already taken a long, hot shower.
Having brought no clothes to the villa, she had slipped into one of Dronti’s oversized black designer T-shirts, its hem falling midway down her thighs.
Joline made a move to stand from the edge of the plush bed as she saw the Dowager approach.
Christine wore a warm, graceful smile—a smile Joline now realized was entirely fake.
She knew she would never look at the older woman the same way again after overhearing her and Dronti discussing plans to use her as a breeding vessel and discard her afterward.
Christine settled gracefully into a velvet armchair in the corner of the room, smoothing the fabric of her skirt over her knees.
“How was it, my dear?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with artificial warmth.
“Did the King perform well?” Well indeed, Joline thought bitterly to herself.
Outwardly, she maintained a soft, submissive demeanor.
“He performed very well, Luna Mother.
Although…
he seemed a bit distant.” Christine dismissed the concern with a delicate wave of her hand.
“Do not worry yourself over that, dear.
He will soften in time; he always behaves with that cold edge.
But tell me…
did he release?” The Dowager leaned forward slightly, her eager gaze fixed on Joline’s face.
Joline felt a swell of quiet pride.
After years of relentless rumors that the King was incapable of achieving climax, she had been the one to break his streak so effortlessly.
Perhaps I truly am his destined mate, she thought to herself.
Looking down shyly, Joline kept her voice soft.
“Yes, Luna Mother.
He did.” A genuine, triumphant smile spread across Christine’s face.
“I always knew!” she declared, her eyes lighting up with delight.
“He never released because he never deemed any of those mindless women he keeps around worthy of his royal seed.
You were always the perfect candidate.” She scanned Joline approvingly.
“He deserves a woman of your standing, and he will make you his Queen.” Joline nearly let out a bitter laugh at the absurdity of the lie.
Had she not overheard their private conversation earlier, she would have swallowed every word.
She despised the Dowager’s deceit—at least Dronti, harsh and blunt as he was, had spoken the truth directly to her face without hiding behind empty promises.
“I certainly hope so, Luna Mother,” Joline replied smoothly.
She paused, letting a trace of hesitation show on her face.
“However, the King mentioned that I must conceive from this single encounter because he will not be touching me again.
What if I do not fall pregnant this time?” Christine scoffed lightly.
“You do not need to stress yourself over his threats.
I will see to it that he lays with you again if necessary.
He is growing older, yet he still speaks like a stubborn child instead of focusing on securing his legacy.” Then, a sudden wave of unease washed over Joline as she remembered the breathtaking young woman Dronti had brought to the villa earlier.
Trying to sound casually curious, Joline asked, “If I may ask, Luna Mother…
who is that girl the King arrived with earlier?
I have never seen her around the estate before.” Christine’s expression instantly turned indifferent.
“He claims she is his pet’s personal healer.
She appears to be a weak wolf—I could barely sense any aura from her at all.
Do not waste your energy worrying about her, my dear.
Dronti would never lower himself to a girl of such low standing simply because she possesses a pretty face.” The Dowager paused, eyeing Joline.
While Joline was indisputably beautiful, Christine could not deny that the young healer possessed an ethereal, haunting grace.
Joline had no intention of allowing a woman of such striking beauty to remain anywhere near Dronti.
She wanted his undivided focus on her alone.
“I am not worried, Luna Mother,” Joline offered, her tone laced with delicate concern.
“I am merely cautious about the kind of people the King permits into his inner circle.
Weak or not, rogue wolves can be cunning and treacherous toward royalty.
She could pose a threat to the King’s safety—or to his future heir.
That is simply my impression.” Christine’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Joline’s words striking a nerve.
“She will be monitored very closely,” the Dowager affirmed darkly.
“If she steps even an inch out of line, I will have her thrown off the estate immediately.” She stood up smoothly, smoothing her dress once more.
“Now, come downstairs.
It is time for the evening meal.” Joline silently rose and followed the Dowager down the grand staircase toward the dining hall.
Inside, an elaborate spread of gourmet dishes was displayed across a long table—platters of roasted venison, grilled salmon, glazed vegetables, fresh bread, and decanters of fine wine.
Dronti sat at the head of the long table, exuding regal authority in his casual posture, while Breena sat several chairs away on the far side, quietly keeping to herself.
The moment Christine and Joline entered, Breena kept her eyes lowered, focusing on her plate as she picked at her food.
Yet, she could feel Joline’s sharp, calculating gaze lingering on her.
Dronti’s pale grey eyes drifted over Joline as she moved to take the seat directly to his right.
His brow furrowed in clear annoyance.
“I do not like sharing my clothes,” Dronti stated, his deep voice carrying a sharp edge that cut through the quiet room.
“Do not touch my wardrobe again.
A fresh set of attire will be delivered to your room tonight.” Joline froze, a sudden flush of embarrassment burning across her cheeks.
She almost retreated from the chair, but Christine caught her eye and gave her a stern, reassuring nod, silently commanding her to sit.
Breena kept her gaze fixed on her plate, secretly bewildered by the King’s sheer coldness.
What is wrong with him?
she thought to herself.
Why humiliate such a striking woman over something so trivial?
It wouldn’t hurt him to show an ounce of politeness.
But she wisely kept her mouth shut.
No sooner had Joline settled into her seat than she let out a sharp gasp and bolted straight up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
Christine frowned, startled by the sudden movement.
“What on earth is wrong with you, Joline?” Joline’s face was pale as she pointed a trembling finger down beneath the tablecloth.
Christine leaned over to peer under the table, only to recoil slightly as she spotted Dronti’s massive jaguar lounging silently on the floor, tearing into a cut of raw meat inches from the King’s shoes.
Christine snapped her head back up, glaring at her son, who continued slicing his steak as though completely oblivious to the commotion.
“Can you not put that wild beast away while we are having a meal?
You are terrifying her!” Dronti didn’t even lift his gaze from his plate.
“If she cannot tolerate my pet, she is free to choose a seat further down the table.
How difficult is that?” Joline stole a glance at the sleek predator, fighting back a wave of intense disgust.
She had always loathed the animal and usually took great care to avoid it whenever she visited the estate.
However, having resolved to capture the King’s heart, she told herself she had to accept everything that belonged to him.
Forcing a brave breath, Joline smoothed her shirt and carefully sank back into her seat, taking extra care to keep her legs well clear of the beast.
“I was not frightened, Luna Mother,” Joline said, her voice tight as she tried to project composure.
“I was merely startled by the unexpected contact under the table.” Christine scoffed softly, shaking her head.
“You do not need to pretend for my sake, dear.
I cannot stand that beast either.” “I appreciate your concern, Luna Mother,” Joline replied gently, taking a small sip of water.
“But truly, I am fine.” Christine’s sharp gaze then drifted across the wide table toward Breena, who sat quietly in near isolation.
Remembering her son’s explanation from earlier, the Dowager wondered if the quiet girl was also intimidated by the predator.
In truth, Christine harbored deep doubts about the girl being a mere animal healer; Dronti was not the type to hire a full-time physician for a wild pet.
He was hiding her true purpose.
Turning her focus onto Breena, Christine spoke in a smooth, velvet tone.
“I hear you are the jaguar’s personal healer.
I assume the beast is quite accustomed to your presence by now?” Dronti’s jaw tightened subtly.
He recognized his mother’s trap immediately—she was attempting to poke holes in the girl’s cover story.
Before Breena could formulate an answer, Dronti cut in smoothly, his tone flat.
“Mother, the girl only arrived yesterday.
She is still adjusting to the villa, and the beast takes time to warm up to strangers.” Christine arched an eyebrow, her gaze shifting between her son and the silent healer.
“Is that so?
How convenient.” Joline set her glass down with a soft clink, her sharp eyes locking onto Breena across the table with a cold, knowing smirk.
“She isn’t here as an animal healer at all, Luna Mother,” Joline announced smoothly, her voice echoing through the quiet dining room.