Chapter 38: Filth+ shame =

"Hmm... so you visited the horse stables, the herb center, the training space... the dungeons?" Zyren’s voice was smooth, but the thickness to his tone was impossible to miss. It crept into his words like a slow-building storm, drawing Aria’s hand to still in mid-motion, her spoon hovering just above her plate. Her fingers clenched slightly around it before she slowly set it down, forcing herself to glance up at him.

He was smiling, lips curled in that same casual curve he often wore, but it was the brightness of his red eyes that made her stomach twist. There was no question in them. Only confirmation. He already knew the answer. And worse, he was giving her the space to lie—to see if she would.

"No! I didn’t!" Aria blurted, her voice louder than she intended. The air around her felt sharp, pressing inward.

Zyren’s smile deepened into something crueler, more amused. "None of those places!" he echoed, feigning surprise with his brows raised and mouth slightly parted. "That’s surprising! Then where did you go?"

There was a flicker of mock curiosity in his gaze as he looked at her, but Aria didn’t believe it for a second. Her hands, now folded tightly together in her lap, ignored the food cooling in front of her. The tension climbing her spine made swallowing feel impossible.

"I saw the garden," she said finally, flatly. Her jaw tightened. The sound of her own pulse thundered in her ears, and she tried not to acknowledge the way her heart had started racing again—no matter how much she tried to will it steady.

She could feel it—the way things were shifting. She’d known it the moment they stepped into the food hall, but now the atmosphere was suffocating.

Zyren’s grin widened as though savoring the discomfort bleeding from her every word. "You liked it?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "With how much you hated your collar, I didn’t think you liked pretty things!"

His words bit deep. Aria grit her teeth together, grinding them in silence. She didn’t allow even a twitch to touch her face, didn’t allow the glare she wanted to throw to slip through. But she did feel his arm wrap tighter around her waist.

"So..." he murmured, his breath brushing close to her ear, "...you spent all afternoon in the garden. I didn’t know the garden was that magnificent!"

This time, the edge in his voice wasn’t subtle. It was blade-sharp and unmistakable. Even the lords seated around the table had gone still. The hum of chatter, the clinking of utensils—it had all stopped.

Aria could feel it—eyes shifting toward her. The lords, the nobles, the tension rising between every heartbeat. She wanted to crawl into the floor.

Still, she couldn’t ignore the question.

Her voice came softer now, carefully measured. "The garden is magnificent," she said with a slight nod.

Zyren’s fingers left the fork on the table. Instead, he picked up his wine cup, but Aria’s relief was short-lived. She watched the cup pause halfway to his mouth. His lips parted, and she flinched before he even spoke.

"Still... what did you do there for so long? Stare at the flowers?"

The threat in his voice was no longer hidden. It was laid bare, stretching and coiling around her like a noose. His eyes bore into hers with a dangerous glint, daring her to tell half-truths.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

"I met someone. A servant," she said, her voice hoarse despite her attempt to sound firm. "I planted some seeds."

She braced herself—heart clenched, eyes slightly shut—waiting for the explosion she knew would come.

But it didn’t.

Zyren only nodded, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a long sip of what she was certain was blood, not wine. His calm scared her more than any raised voice ever could.

Then, just as he placed the cup back on the table, his next words struck like a whip.

"Hmm... no wonder you smell like filth."

Aria stiffened. The cold cruelty in his voice wasn’t just meant to humiliate her—it was calculated. She clenched her fists on her lap, trembling slightly even as she lowered her head further to avoid the stares.

"I can smell it on you."

The humiliation hit her like a slap. Her eyes welled with angry tears, but she forced them back, her lips sealed tight. Ready to sit on the ground and eat with her hands if that was what he demanded next to humiliate her only to watch him gesture behind him.

Zyren lifted his hand and gestured behind him. One of the guards stepped forward immediately, kneeling beside him, awaiting orders.

Aria’s chest seized.

She didn’t know what he was about to do—until she heard the sound.

A harsh, tearing rip.

The coat she wore was shredded in an instant, the sharp sound of the fabric tearing echoing like thunder in the silent hall. Cold air rushed over her skin. The heavy coat was yanked from her shoulders and tossed to the guard without a second glance.

"Burn it," Zyren ordered, his voice casual. Aria’s entire body shuddered.

She was exposed. The white gown she wore barely reached her mid-thighs. It clung to her, thin and almost translucent beneath the warm light of the hall. She had wrapped her breasts beneath the fabric, but it wasn’t enough. Every curve was outlined, every part of her made visible to anyone who looked.

The shame clawed through her like a knife. Her cheeks burned red as tears threatened to spill again—but this time they were hot, angry.

She lowered her gaze to the floor, her arms crossing over her chest, her legs pressing tightly together in a desperate attempt to shield herself. She didn’t want Zyren’s to see her expression.

But he did and his face darkened. A visible frown appeared as he watched her struggle to hide herself something that annoyed him ever so strongly.

Without warning, he grabbed her chin and forced her face up, jerking her toward him until they were so close she could feel his breath brush against her lips.

"You are banned from wearing coats during the warmth of the day," he said, each word deliberate and sharp. "I want you to show everyone how pretty my pet is. At night you can wear it!"

She wanted to pull away, to slap his hand off her, but she couldn’t, no matter how hard she struggled, not until he released her. The instant he did, Aira turned her face away with slow, simmering rage written in her stiff posture.

Tears burned hot in her eyes again, but this time she didn’t try to blink them away. They were anger—sharp and bitter.

’So you expect me to walk naked!’ she screamed inside her mind, her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists tighter than before.

She sat still as a statue, jaw locked, refusing to move.

She couldn’t eat. She didn’t want to.

But Zyren—Zyren made it his mission to ensure that every bite on her plate ended up in her mouth. He fed her each piece slowly, deliberately, with an infuriating smile that never left his face.

"My pet should be healthy," he murmured, almost to himself, with a glint of twisted fondness in his eyes that made her stomach churn.

He truly meant it. He didn’t see her as a person. He saw her as a pet, a toy for his entertainment

And that made everything worse because at that moment, Aira decided that she was done. She no longer saw a need to wait and bid her time.

By dinner, she wanted him dead, bleeding on the same chair he had humiliated her in. Most importantly, she didn’t care how she did it.