You Were My Sl*ve - Chapter 60

Antonio’s accusations were entirely fabricated. Elona had never ordered Samira to free Kazan, nor had she ever asked Kazan to kill Antonio.

Yet, the knights loyal to Antonio backed his every word. Though the king, knowing Elona’s character, was reluctant to believe the accusations, he ultimately sided with his son. The lies of the malicious prince branded Elona as a traitorous princess, leading to her imprisonment in the western tower for seven long years.

Seven years of believing Kazan was dead, trapped in a hopeless existence.

But how could she ever explain all of this to Zahhak?

“Answer me!” Zahhak roared, his voice dripping with rage as Elona failed to respond. His fury was a storm, threatening to tear him apart.

“Speak! Tell me why Samira had to die like that!”

“Ugh… kghh…!”

Zahhak’s grip on her neck tightened further, cutting off her air entirely. Elona could no longer breathe, and her vision blurred as her mind began to spiral into darkness.

Is this how I die? Because of my brother’s sins, without ever knowing a moment of happiness?

Unfair…

As her consciousness began to fade and her body went limp, something suddenly changed.

“Argh!”

Zahhak’s hands were wrenched away from her, and he let out a pained grunt.

Freed from his grip, Elona collapsed to the ground, coughing violently as she gasped for air.

Could it be…?

Her tear-filled eyes darted up to see what had happened. Through her blurred vision, she saw two men standing before her.

One was Zahhak, the man who had been moments away from killing her.

The other… was Kazan.

“Kazan…” she whispered faintly, still wheezing.

“Kazan,” he repeated, his cold, cutting voice unmistakable. It was the same voice she had heard that fateful day, standing before Antonio, declaring that he had been chosen by Sindar.

His crimson eyes burned with fury, glowing like embers as they fixed on Zahhak.

“Zahhak Omar,” Kazan said, his tone deathly calm.

The moment Zahhak opened his mouth to respond, Kazan’s fist smashed into his face with brutal force. The blow sent Zahhak staggering back, slamming into the wall. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he wiped it away, steadying himself.

Kazan stepped in front of Elona, shielding her with his body, his tone frigid.

“Thank Kalima that today is a wedding, Zahhak. Were it not for this occasion, your sinful hands would already be rolling on the ground.”

Both men were unarmed—customary for wedding attendees. Zahhak chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a sneer.

“Indeed. If that were the case, I would’ve had a blade of my own and could’ve killed that wench already.”

“What did you just say?”

Kazan’s voice resonated with suppressed fury, but Zahhak took a step closer, undeterred.

“I am carrying out the laws of Ashatra, Your Highness,” Zahhak replied with mockery. “That Pharsion woman owes my sister’s blood price. So, hand her over to me.”

“Not permitted.”

The slanted afternoon sunlight didn’t reach into the narrow alley, leaving it shrouded in shadow. Zahhak’s violet eyes gleamed menacingly in the dim light.

“Why?” he demanded, his voice sharp and simmering with anger. “Why are you protecting her, Your Highness?”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Kazan replied coldly. “Only I have the right to punish her.”

At Kazan’s icy words, Zahhak suddenly turned his head, glaring at Elona. His furrowed brows deepened, and for a fleeting moment, a flash of realization crossed his face.

Kazan noticed the shift and was about to demand an explanation when Zahhak abruptly stepped back.

“I’ll withdraw for now,” Zahhak said evenly, though his voice was laden with menace. “But you should know this—I, Zahhak Omar, will never overlook the crimes of the royal family of Pharsion.”

With that, Zahhak turned and strode away without looking back.

Kazan didn’t follow. Instead, he approached Elona, who was still trembling. She looked up at him with wide, tearful eyes and asked in a shaky voice, “What happens to me now?”

“Come here.”

Kazan removed his cloak and gently pulled her toward him. Elona hesitated, but eventually leaned into him, letting him close the front of her loosened robe and drape his cloak over her shoulders.

His touch was tender, but Elona couldn’t meet his gaze. She was overwhelmed with shame, guilt, and a gnawing sense of failure.

He must know. He must have figured out I tried to run away.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she couldn’t bring herself to lift her head.

Kazan, however, didn’t question her. Instead, he spoke tersely. “Let’s go back.”

The return journey to Perma began in somber silence, the king’s carriage bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. The fluttering curtains allowed faint streaks of red light to filter in, but the interior remained shadowed.

Elona sat across from Kazan, wrapped in his cloak, unmoving. Her plan to escape had failed completely. Now, she could only anticipate what awaited her back in the palace.

He won’t forgive me. Kazan must be furious. I’ve betrayed him again…

Her thoughts spiraled, and she blinked back more tears. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

As tears welled up again, she quickly wiped them away. Her movement didn’t escape Kazan’s notice. He watched her closely before speaking in a low voice.

“Does it hurt?”

“…What?”

“Does it hurt?” he repeated. “Your neck, or anywhere else.”

Elona froze for a moment. She hadn’t been crying because of the pain, but her neck did hurt. Zahhak’s grip had been so forceful that it felt like her bones might have snapped. She instinctively raised a hand to her neck, wincing as the tender flesh throbbed under her touch.

“No… I’m fine,” she murmured, shaking her head.

Kazan didn’t look convinced. He gestured to the seat beside him. “Come here.”

Elona tightened her grip on the cloak, her heart racing. “Why… why?”

“I need to check. Or would you prefer I come to you?”

Her hesitation lasted only a moment. She quickly shuffled over to his side, her guilt urging her to comply without protest.

When she sat beside him, Kazan reached out and carefully parted the collar of her robe. Startled by his sudden movement, Elona flinched. Kazan paused and met her gaze directly.

“Don’t want me to look?”

“…No. It’s okay. You can.”

Swallowing her nervousness, Elona stilled herself. Kazan’s hands moved gently as he examined her neck, his touch unexpectedly careful.

His unexpected kindness was unsettling. He wasn’t scolding her, wasn’t angry—if anything, he seemed concerned.

As her cheeks warmed with embarrassment, Kazan finally spoke, his voice low.

“Why did you do it during the wedding?”

The question made her heart drop.

So this is it… He’s going to ask why I tried to run.

Kazan looked at her intently, his crimson eyes unwavering as he asked again, “Why did you act so indifferent? Everyone was practically desperate to pair me with another woman, yet you sat there like it didn’t matter.”

This was not the direction Elona had expected.

She recalled the voices that had haunted her during the wedding—the whispers of his potential marriage, the casual discussions about his future wife. Those had stung her deeply.

Was it as unpleasant for him as it was for me? she wondered. Could the talk of his marriage have unsettled him so much that it lingered even now, despite his usual unshakable composure?

Avoiding his gaze, she murmured, “You know… a royal marriage is a king’s duty. Everyone was just talking about something that’s inevitable.”

“Inevitable.”

A bitter smile crossed his lips as his gaze drifted somewhere far away, as if he were remembering a time long gone.

“Seven years ago, I couldn’t accept that inevitable duty,” he said quietly.

When he learned that Elona had chosen to marry King Bahalen, Kazan’s entire world had crumbled.

Realizing that she had unintentionally reopened an old wound, Elona bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to stir up painful memories for him.

“And what about you?” he asked, his tone softer but still probing. “How do you feel now, Elona?”

“I…”

“Do you really want me to go through with it? Like you wanted me to, seven years ago?”

Elona lowered her gaze, unable to meet his piercing stare. She wanted to appear unaffected, but it was a struggle to keep her composure. After a moment, she managed to speak.

“You’re my master, Kazan. You own me, but I don’t own you. So… it doesn’t matter to me who you’re with or what you do.”