How to Tame My Beastly Husband

How to Tame My Beastly Husband — Chapter 212. A Normal Human (1)

There was a reason that Raphael appeared so late. The King had known he had to be separated from Annette, and had immediately taken Raphael away alone.

“I am very proud of you, my son. Words alone are not sufficient reward for becoming a Master of Swords. I have prepared a gift for you. Come with me.”

The King led him to the private royal parlor behind the banquet hall. It was the first time Raphael had ever been allowed to come there, but he was so removed from the normal social life of Deltium, he rarely attended banquets anyway. It meant this invitation did not seem strange.

The moment he slipped through the golden curtain at the entrance of the room, he caught a strange smell within. Raphael frowned.

An air freshener?

The scent was very strong. Something like sandalwood, and maybe magnolia. Was that normal for a room like this? The scent was almost overpowering, but he had never come here before and had no way of knowing if anything was different. But instinctive caution made him hesitate at the door.

“What’s wrong with you, Raphael?” The King said jovially, like a benevolent father. “Come here.”

A benevolent father, and a cunning fox, luring his prey out. Ignoring Raphael’s frown, he caught his son’s arm and pulled him into the room.

“Is the scent too strong? The attendants broke a bottle of perfumed oil in the front corridor.”

Raphael’s frown only deepened. It wasn’t just the perfume. There was an unpleasant odor on the King’s breath, a smell like bile. It reminded him of the black medicine from the eastern continent.

But he could not refuse. He just wanted to take whatever gift was waiting and get out of here. Annette was probably anxious, waiting alone.

“What is it you wanted to give me, Your Majesty?”

“You are impatient. Sit down. I want to know what it feels like, to be Master of Swords.”

He had been trapped, just as the King had intended all along. The King’s face was eerily gentle as he sat comfortably, hands folded.

It meant Annette was in danger.

“Excuse me,” he said, refusing instinctively. “My wife wasn’t feeling well today. She needs me by her side.”

“I heard you have a good relationship with your wife,” the King replied. “I am glad, I was worried about your political marriage.”

Raphael had not forgotten all of the King’s efforts to ruin his marriage before it had even begun.

“It was a marriage you arranged for me,” he said harshly. “So of course I must do my best to ensure it succeeds. I am worried about my wife, so you must excuse me. Please forgive the discourtesy.”

But as he rose, he was suddenly overcome with a wave of dizziness. What was wrong with him? He shook his head, trying to clear the sudden fog, but his legs folded beneath him and he knelt before the King.

There was something else hidden in the perfume. A soporific that he hadn’t noticed, mixed among all those other fragrances. The King had brought him here to drug him, and had taken some medicine to make himself resistant to the soporific. That was what Raphael had smelled on his breath.

Raphael slumped to the floor.

Selgratis smiled with satisfaction.

You are not strong enough to resist this, even if you are a Sword Master.

Sword Masters were still human. They still needed air, food, water. They were still vulnerable to poison.

“You must be very tired from the banquet,” the King said, rising from his seat and bending beside his son. In his hands was a small needle, dosed with another dru*g. The needle jabbed into Raphael multiple times, another sedative to ensure he stayed down.