His Cursed Luna

13. Slandering Ball

Penelope knew that she had to tread carefully, as her uncle was a master of manipulation. However, she was well aware of his plan this time. With a deep breath, she greeted her uncle, “good evening, Uncle.”

“Good evening, Penelope! What a marvelous night,” her uncle faked a smile but she could see through it.

“Indeed, it is,” Penelope returned the gesture, “I saw you talking to the Lycan King Diatoran.”

“Ah yes, I did. But I am afraid, it won’t be easy for us to convince him,” William spoke as a sadness rose in his eyes.

Penelope knew what was coming next. In her past life, her uncle manipulated her to talk to King Diatoran, and she trusted him. However, it had been a grave mistake. She remembered the old Lycan King leaving the hall, and she had followed him. In the end, she had found herself alone in a room with Diatoran, who had attempted to defile her. The memory still haunted her to this day, but she hid her anger behind an innocent tone as she spoke to her uncle.

Penelope was an assertive woman who knew how to handle difficult situations. She was no longer the innocent girl who had been taken advantage of. She was now a strong and powerful leader, who had learned from her past experiences. She had learned from her past life that diplomacy and tact were essential in the world of politics. She was skilled in the art of conversation and could hold her own against even the most cunning negotiators. As she spoke to her uncle, she remained calm, “I will try to talk to him, uncle.”

As the night wore on, the aristocrats continued to mingle and dance with grace and poise, while the Lycan Kings engaged in a serious discussion with the Ancients. The atmosphere was formal and refined, with every guest impeccably dressed and displaying proper etiquette. However, the absence of Lycan King Diatoran did not go unnoticed, and the tension in the air began to mount as the night progressed.

It was at that moment that a piercing scream shattered the tranquility of the ballroom, reverberating through the lavishly decorated space like a thunderclap. Every conversation came to an abrupt halt, and the soft rustle of silk and lace ceased as the guests froze, their eyes darting nervously around the room in search of the source of the disturbance. The music, once flowing through the air, was now stifled under the weight of the scream, leaving only the eerie silence that followed.

The guests shifted uneasily on their feet, their hands trembling as they tried to make sense of what had just occurred. Whispers began to ripple through the crowd, but none of them dared to speak loudly. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the unspoken fear of what might happen next.

It was then that Penelope’s gaze fell upon her cousin, Isabella. She had appeared at the threshold of the ballroom like a whirlwind of chaos, stumbling into the hall with all the force of a crazed animal. Her once-pristine gown was now torn and filthy, the delicate fabric hanging from her frame in ragged pieces. The satin shimmer that had once caught the light now lay in tatters, the elegance of the design completely lost in the wake of whatever horrors Isabella had just endured.

Her face, usually so composed and regal, was now a mask of pure agony. Her lips trembled as she gasped for breath, and her eyes were wide with terror, as if she had seen something no one should ever witness. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, the salty trails cutting through the dirt and grime that married her delicate features. Her once perfectly styled hair had come undone, strands of it flying wild in every direction, as if she had been pulled through a storm. The wildness of her appearance only deepened the sense of panic that gripped the room.

The assertive nature of the scream alerted everyone in the room, and the guests began to panic, not knowing what was happening. However, Penelope maintained her composure, taking a sip of her wine as she observed her cousin's distress.

Despite the chaos that had erupted in the hall, the aristocrats remained dignified, their poise contrasting starkly with Isabella's frenzied state. Lycan King William, on the other hand, rushed to his beloved daughter, “Isabella! What happened to you, child!”

The atmosphere in the ballroom had turned tense, and Lycan King William's heart raced as he rushed to his daughter's side. Isabella's torn and disheveled state was a shock to all, and the king could feel his blood boiling with rage at the thought of someone having hurt his beloved child.

He enveloped Isabella in his arms, shielding her from the crowd's prying eyes as she shivered violently in his embrace. It was clear that the trauma she had experienced had left her shaken to the core. Isabella shook violently in his embrace, as she spoke, “Father! Help me.”

As the other guests watched on in silence, Ancient Maya stepped forward, her eyes flashing with concern. With a wave of her finger, a blanket appeared in the air, and the kind Ancient draped it over Isabella, offering her comfort in her time of need, “Oh, poor child! Who did this?”

The question on everyone's mind was who could have done something so vile to the Lycan King's daughter. Penelope, Isabella's cousin, was quick to speak up, her eyes brimming with tears as she expressed her concern for her beloved relative, Before Isabella could speak up, Penelope pointed out, “oh cousin! Who touched you in such venomous manner?”

But Isabella's reaction to Penelope's words was unexpected. She recalled seeing Penelope talking to a mysterious lord earlier, discussing the possibility of gaining Lycan King Diatoran's vote. Isabella had followed her cousin, hoping to win over the Northen King before her cousin, but Penelope had disappeared, leaving Isabella alone and vulnerable.

It was then that Lycan King Diatoran had appeared, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. Isabella had tried to escape, but the vile king had cornered her and attempted to defile her.

The shock and horror of the revelation were palpable in the hall, and Lycan King William's eyes blazed with anger at the thought of someone violating his daughter's trust in such a despicable manner. The formal setting of the ballroom was now a distant memory, as the guests grappled with the knowledge that danger and darkness lurked in their midst.

As Lycan King Diatoran strode into the hall, his stern expression sent a shiver down Princess Isabella's spine. It was now clear to all that he was the one responsible for her distress.

In the realm of the Lycans, pre-mating s*x was a grave offence, and defiling a woman without consent was an even graver sin. However, the rules seemed to apply mostly to women, leaving men with an unequal distribution of power. This societal imbalance was all too evident as Isabella was subjected to scorn and blame, despite being the victim of a heinous crime.

As the other guests watched on in dismay, the formal atmosphere of the ballroom had been shattered beyond repair. The events of the evening had revealed a darker side to their world, and the knowledge that such horrors could exist among them left the aristocrats and Lycan Kings reeling.

The assertive and formal atmosphere of the ballroom had been shattered, and the guests were left to wonder what other horrors awaited them in the world of the Lycans. Slowly the night died down, and the Lycan Kings accumulated in a hall along with the ancients.

The atmosphere in the room grew tense as the Lycan Kings, and the Ancients watched Diatoran, wondering what he meant. William's grip on Isabella loosened slightly, but he kept his daughter close, "how dare you to touch my daughter?”

Diatoran's gaze shifted to Isabella, who was still trembling in her father's embrace, "I am a century-old pure-blooded Lycan, William. I don't react unless I am provoked.”

"You are delusional if you think you can walk away from this without punishment," Ancient Gerald roared, his voice cold and menacing.

Diatoran remained unfazed, his expression unchanged, “there are things that you aren't aware of, Ancient Gerald. I haven't committed any crime."

The room remained silent as he proceeded further, " William spoke with me earlier about signing a treaty, and I agreed on exchange of a Virgin, unmated princess of Goldenrealm. But I still told him, I wouldn't touch unless she is willing."

"You… that's a lie!" King William portested immediately only to gain a smirk from the Northen King.

"Is that so, William? Then prove it. I have my beta to support my words. Who is there to support yours?" Diatoran dared him to respond.

Penelope watched the entire drama, hiding her smirks behind her teary eyes. Her mind still wasn’t at peace. The Werewolf King of Inarica didn’t show up at the gathering, and neither did the Lycan King of Silverknight. The treaty the thought of forming went in vein. Above all, Elijah was associated with the witches in her previous life. What if he was behind these attacks? She couldn’t shake off the possibilities.