Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle-Chapter 35: Poison And Blade.

The maid's eyes gleamed with admiration. "You are truly brilliant, my lady. Everything is falling into place."

Without waiting for further instructions, already well aware of what needed to be done, she gave a deep bow and slipped out of the room, leaving Arata alone with her thoughts.

Precisely five minutes later, the rhythmic thud of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor. The chamber doors swung open, and two guards entered, each gripping Sorayah firmly by the arms. Her head was bowed, her shoulders slumped in quiet defeat.

"My lady," one of the guards announced with a slight bow. "The maid is here."

Arata's lips curled into a smirk as she leaned back against her plush feathered chair. Her fingers idly traced the delicate carvings on the armrest while her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Let her in," she commanded smoothly. "You both may leave."

The guards obeyed without hesitation, releasing Sorayah before retreating from the chamber, the heavy doors shutting behind them with a resounding thud.

For a moment, silence stretched between the two women. Sorayah stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the ground, her face void of any emotion save for a deep, underlying grief.

"Come, have a seat," Arata said, her voice laced with feigned sympathy. She rose gracefully from her chair, crossing the room toward Sorayah with an expression of concern carefully painted onto her features. "I can understand your pain."

Sorayah's pride had kept her eyes lowered until now, but at those words, she lifted her gaze and met Arata's with a piercing stare. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice carried a quiet defiance.

"You do not understand my pain, my lady." Her words were firm, clipped, yet laced with an unmistakable sorrow. She then averted her gaze once more. "And I am comfortable standing."

A flicker of amusement danced in Arata's eyes, though she concealed it well beneath her concerned facade.

"You are right," she admitted with a gentle sigh. "I am not in your shoes, so I cannot claim to fully grasp your suffering. But I do want you to know that I care about you, Sorayah." She reached out, taking the girl's cold hands in her own, squeezing them lightly. "That is why I allowed you to bury your sister, even though it is strictly against the rules of this household."

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of Sorayah's lips, though it did not reach her eyes.

"I am grateful for that," she murmured. "I'll definitely return your favor one day."

Arata's smile widened, her grip tightening ever so slightly. "You owe me nothing." she assured her in a honeyed tone. "I just want to have a chat with you tonight."

She gently guided Sorayah toward the golden chair across from hers, urging her to sit despite the girl's reluctance. Sorayah resisted at first, but Arata's persistence won out. With a weary sigh, she sank into the seat, her posture stiff and uneasy.

"Good," Arata murmured approvingly. She turned away momentarily, reaching for the kettle she had been tending before Sorayah's arrival. The scent of the tea rich, earthy, and subtly sweet had already filled the chamber even before Sorayah's arrival. She poured the steaming liquid into two delicate porcelain cups, the faint tendrils of heat rising and dissipating between them.

Arata placed one cup before Sorayah and picked up her own, cradling it between her palms. "Here," she said smoothly. "Drink this, and let us talk."

Sorayah's eyes flickered to the cup, then to Arata. Suspicion clouded her features, though she remained outwardly composed. She prided herself on her extensive knowledge of herbs and medicinal brews, but the scent of this tea was foreign to her. It did not belong to the human kingdom, nor was it a common blend among werewolves.

"I am fine without it," she said at last, exhaling a slow breath as she turned her face away.

Arata chuckled softly. "Do you truly think I would harm you?" She took a deliberate sip from her own cup before setting it back down. "This tea is from my pack, a rare delicacy. It was gifted to me by my family, and I am willing to share it with you. I have heard it soothes the mind." She leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You should see me as a confidant, you know."

Sorayah hesitated. She was not foolish.

Arata would not dare poison her also, not when she had poured from the same jug. And yet...

Her gaze flickered toward Arata's cup.

"Can I have the other one?" she asked pointedly, her voice steady.

A knowing smile ghosted across Arata's lips. "Oh?" she mused. "You still do not trust me?"

Without missing a beat, she lifted both cups and poured the contents together into one before taking a slow, unhurried sip. "I cannot kill you, Sorayah," she murmured as she placed the cup before her guest. "I am not that foolish. His Highness's personal maid is untouchable. Besides..." Her smirk deepened. "As His Highness always says, only he has the right to hurt you."

Sorayah's fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. A dark shadow passed over her face, but she quickly buried it, her expression smoothing into something neutral.

Without another word, she snatched the cup from Arata's hands and downed the tea in one gulp.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the chamber windows. The once-still air turned restless instantly. The sky darkened, and the first heavy drops of rain began to fall.

Arata gazed out of the window, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as the rain intensified, drumming against the glass. She tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her golden eyes.

"This always happens during the Full Moon Festival," she mused, swirling the remnants of her tea in its porcelain cup. "I believe the hunt has begun, that's why the rain falls so heavily tonight."

Before Sorayah could respond, a voice rang from outside the chamber doors.

"My lady! His Highness, the Beta Lord, has returned to his quarters!"

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The guard's announcement sent a jolt through Sorayah. She shot to her feet, her entire body taut with anger, her hands curling into trembling fists at her sides.

Arata, who had been watching her closely, smirked. "Looks like..."

"I'll come back to see you tomorrow, my lady," Sorayah cut her off, her voice tight, controlled but barely. Without sparing Arata another glance, she turned on her heels and stormed toward the door.

Arata watched her go, amusement dancing in her eyes. "How impatient," she murmured to herself, taking another sip of tea.

~•~

The rain was relentless, lashing against Sorayah's skin like tiny whips as she marched toward Dimitri's chambers. The sky, dark and ominous, mirrored the fury brewing within her. Each step she took splashed into shallow puddles, soaking her shoes, but she did not falter.

Most of the servants had already retired for the night, unwilling to brave the storm. Only the patrolling guards remained outside, but they barely acknowledged her as she passed. To them, she was just another maid, insignificant and unworthy of notice.

She welcomed their indifference.

Upon reaching Dimitri's chambers, she pushed through the doors unchallenged. The guards stationed outside the Beta Lord's mansion were far from his private quarters, far enough that no one would hear what she was about to do.

The dim glow of candlelight flickered against the stone walls as she stepped inside. The air was thick with the lingering scent of damp earth and something sharper, perhaps the remnants of medicinal herbs.

Liam was nowhere in sight.

Good. It was late afterall hence he must have retired to his chamber too.

Her gaze locked onto Dimitri immediately. He sat on the edge of his massive bed, half-naked, his damp skin glistening under the faint light. Droplets of water trailed down his toned chest from his freshly washed hair, but something was... off.

His usually strong, commanding presence was gone. He looked weak.

Pale.

Like death itself had already started to claim him.

But Sorayah did not care.

She stormed toward him, her fury boiling over.

"You finally killed my sister, you bastard," she spat, her voice thick with rage and grief. Tears streaked down her cheeks, mingling with the rain still dripping from her hair. "Just because I didn't stay by your side at the palace, just because I refused to be your obedient little pet, you threatened me with her life, and now you've followed through with your promise."

Dimitri didn't respond.

His eyes remained shut, his face expressionless, as though he hadn't heard a single word she said.

His silence only stoked the fire in her veins.

"Open your damn eyes and look at me!" Sorayah roared, reaching for the dagger he had once thrown at her feet, the very weapon he had dared her to use against him.

And now, she would.

With a swift, determined motion, she drove the blade into his chest, aiming for his heart.

The dagger had been coated with a rare poisonous herb, one she had painstakingly gathered from the forest where Lily had been buried. She wasn't entirely certain how potent it would be against a werewolf of Dimitri's strength, but she did not care.

If the poison wasn't enough, the blade would be.

She pushed harder, twisting the dagger as it sank deep into his flesh. Blood gushed from the wound, staining her hands, pooling onto the floor in thick, dark rivulets.

Still, he did not move.

A sick sense of satisfaction curled within her chest.

"No one will ever expect a mere maid to kill you," she thought, her resolve hardening. "By the time they find your body, I will have already left this palace. They will never find me as I will become someone else, take on a new face, a new name."

But something was wrong.

Dimitri still wasn't moving.

Her breath hitched. Is he already dead? Did he die before I could even pull out his heart?

Her mind raced as she pulled back slightly, her blood-soaked hands trembling.

Then, suddenly....

His eyes snapped open.

Sorayah's breath caught in her throat.

The emerald-green irises she had come to know were gone, replaced by something far more terrifying.