Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 102

“You… no. Fuck-” Lady Celestia stammers, her lips trembling as though they’ve forgotten how to form words. Her jaw practically hits the marble floor, and I swear, if she doesn’t close her mouth soon, flies might start nesting there.

“You… you’re the daughter?” she gasps, her pupils darting around like she’s trapped in a nightmare she can’t wake up from.

I tilt my head slightly, not bothering to hide my smirk. “Why do you look so shocked? Isn’t this the same hall where you stabbed me? Tied me up like a fucking animal?” I sneer. “You thought you killed, didn’t you? How does it feel knowing you failed?”

Her mouth opens again, but no words come out. She staggers back, gripping the edge of a nearby pillar like the truth has shaken the very ground beneath her.

“But… how did you survive?” Her voice breaks completely. “1-1 watched you die. I saw your breathing stop!”

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” I hiss, watching her cling to the pillar like her life depends on it–a coward hiding behind makeup and red silk. “Haven’t you put the pieces together yet? I’m the Alpha King’s daughter. That sword you used–the one forged for royal blood–didn’t kill me because it can’t. It’s not a weapon against a true heir. You thought you were ending me… turns out you were proving who I am.”

“No… no…” Celestia lets go of the pillar and clutches her head with both hands, shaking it violently. “This isn’t real! You can’t be his daughter! This is a cruel joke–a nightmare–wake up, Celestia, wake up! You were the only daughter. The other… the other one was eaten in the woods! Lost and forgotten!”

Iscoff. “Hate to ruin your little fantasy, but I was never eaten. I was kidnapped yes but I survived. Whether you like it or not, I’m

the lost daughter. The real one.”

She flails toward me, eyes wild. “No! It could be anyone else–anyone but you! You took him from me! Jack… he was supposed to be mine but you were always in the way!” Her voice climbs into a shrill, unhinged pitch. “And now you want to take this too? My crown? My father? You’re not my sister!” She spits the word like it’s poison. “No. No. Impossible!”

“Correction,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We’re not sisters. We don’t share blood–don’t ever dare suggest we do. Mine is royal. Yours? Filthy. Rotten. Disgusting. If I had even a drop of your filth in my veins, I’d rip it out myself.”

She shrieks like a banshee being exorcised. “Yes, we do! How else would I be able to wear the Queen’s necklace? It only allows royal blood!”

My gaze drops to the necklace clinging tightly around her throat. I pause, a flicker of suspicion slithering through me like a

shadow.

“I still don’t understand how or why that necklace isn’t burning you,” I say, slowly circling her like a predator. “I smelled your scorched flesh back at my home. I left that necklace there for you to steal. I wanted you to find it, to wear it, and to come face–to- face with the truth. You’re not royal. That necklace doesn’t prove your blood–it proves your desperation.”

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