Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 342: Marriage with benefits

Fiona knocked only once before she entered Fervor’s office without even waiting for him to give her permission to do so. The sound of the door closing echoed faintly in the large office, followed by the quiet scrape of her heels against the floor as she moved further inside.

She wore a blue V-neck gown with no other piece of cloth to cover the many deep and nasty scars scattered across her skin, scars that looked carved rather than formed. They were not the kind that healed with time. They were the kind that clung to the flesh like they belonged there, as much a part of her as her own bones.

Even at that moment, there was an almost incessant need to cover her entire body up completely and hide away—an instinct she had to fight fiercely against as she stepped further in and closed the door behind her. Her fingers trembled slightly as she did it, but her face remained unreadable, her eyes sharp.

Fervor didn’t look surprised. He sat behind his desk, calm and composed, watching her with an expression that never seemed to shift. When his gaze lifted to meet hers, there was not a flicker of emotion. Not shock, not curiosity—only a cold kind of attention that made her skin crawl.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The intensity with which he looked at her—like she was the most interesting, broken thing he had ever seen—was enough to make her want to claw his eyes out.

Fiona walked forward anyway, refusing to show weakness. When she reached the chair in front of him, she dropped into it, leaning back as though she were sitting on a throne rather than a simple seat. Her chin lifted, her posture defiant.

She didn’t speak. Neither did Fervor. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. He just sat there, his eyes dragging over her scars, tracing the pale lines on her arms and shoulders as though memorizing each one.

It pissed her off. Every second of it.

"I’ll help," she said finally, her voice slicing through the silence, "but you need to marry me."

Her tone was sharp, her words deliberate. She wanted to sound in control, not desperate.

Fervor didn’t react immediately. A slow, knowing smile crept onto his lips as he leaned back slightly, his expression calm and arrogant. He said nothing, only stared at her longer, his gaze steady and unreadable.

Fiona continued, forcing herself not to flinch under that gaze. "I still need to be alive to have the baby, even if Clarissa is the one giving birth to it," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Her eyes burned with something fierce, though her body sat languidly in the chair. Her nails, however, dug sharply into her thighs—hard enough to leave marks—as if she needed the pain to stay grounded.

"I can keep you alive. That’s not a problem," Fervor replied, his tone smooth, confident—too confident.

It was that tone that made her want to shatter it.

Fiona’s mind was already calculating, her thoughts sharp as blades. She knew her worth. She knew exactly what she was offering, and why he needed her.

The only reason she wanted to be his wife was simple—because it was the only way she could kill him. Only then could she take the city for herself and become lord.

William had betrayed her, but he was dead. For him, her revenge had died too. But Fervor—Fervor had been aware. He must have helped, maybe even encouraged it.

He would pay.

Just like her father, Eldric, would pay.

She wasn’t even sure anymore if Eldric had been the one who ordered the scars carved into her flesh, but it didn’t matter. He could have. That was enough. That made him guilty.

Moreover, she had seen the guard who scarred her among his men. That alone had sealed it for her.

"How?" she asked suddenly, her tone sharp and bitter. "Keep me alive by chaining me up and force-feeding me?"

A harsh laugh escaped her lips—too loud, too sharp—but still soft somehow, elegant even in its cruelty.

"The only thing keeping this body alive is my mind," she said coldly. "If you break that, I can assure you no kind of force will ever fix it."

Fervor’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened. "You sound sure," he said. "Maybe we can test that."

A direct threat.

But Fiona didn’t flinch. She only smiled, her eyes gleaming in defiance as she tilted her head. "Is that a bet you’re willing to take? Because I am. I’ll bet my life on it. It’s not like I have anything else to lose."

There was silence again. A long, tense silence.

Fervor’s gaze on her deepened, his head tilting slightly as if seeing her for the first time. Something shifted in his eyes—something that almost looked like interest, maybe even admiration—but it was gone too quickly to tell.

She pressed on before he could dismiss her. "Moreover, with me here—as my adopted father’s only child—if you kill him, you’ll have no problem taking over his territory. Clearly, we’re on the same side."

Her voice was measured, her tone sharp and persuasive. She knew exactly what he cared about—control, power, legitimacy.

She continued, unwavering. "If you refuse, I can assure you that you won’t like the amount of problems my absence will cause."

Still, he said nothing. He just kept looking at her, that same unreadable gaze boring through her. It wasn’t curiosity. It was something heavier—calculated.

Fiona frowned. His silence irritated her. She could feel her pulse quicken, the weight of the tension pressing against her chest.

She was about to speak again, ready to push further, when Fervor finally broke the silence.

"I can accept," he said, his voice smooth again. "Marriage is quite a simple thing."

He leaned back slightly, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "Also, like you said, I do need you alive and breathing. There’s no use having a baby that belongs to William without a mother attached to it."

His words were cold but logical. They both knew that if the lords found out the child came from Clarissa—a half-human—they’d never accept it as a legitimate heir.

Fiona didn’t move. Her jaw tightened slightly, but her relief was visible, even if faint. She had expected him to refuse. Hearing him agree almost felt strange.

But before she could speak, he continued, his voice dropping lower.

"...But I have a condition," he said. His frown deepened, and his tone shifted—firm, deliberate. "If you’re going to marry me, then we have to behave like real couples do. Take it as my payment for taking on such a Herculean task."

Fiona’s expression froze.

"What condition?" she asked immediately, her patience wearing thin.

He didn’t hesitate. "As my wife, you will sleep with me any time and every time I wish. I can promise you—"

He didn’t finish.

Fiona’s voice cut through his words like a blade. "No!"

It was loud, harsh, raw. Louder than she meant it to be.

It betrayed everything she had tried to control.

Every rule about making deals—about staying calm, detached, unreadable—vanished in that instant.

But this was personal.

Her body no longer felt like hers. Her skin didn’t feel like her own. Covered in scars that still burned some nights, she could hardly stand to look at herself, much less imagine anyone else touching her.

The thought alone made her chest tighten and her breath grow shallow. Her heart raced wildly as humiliation, anger, and dread twisted together inside her.

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Across the table, Fervor’s face hardened again, his brief flicker of softness replaced with ice.

For a moment, she thought she saw something else—something almost human in his eyes. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

Under the table, his fists clenched tight enough for his knuckles to pale, though his face gave nothing away.

"Then no marriage," he said flatly.

His tone was final. Cold. Unbending.

The words hit like a wall between them.

Silence returned again—thicker this time, sharper.

Fiona didn’t move. Neither did he.

Her pulse echoed in her ears. The faint hum of magic in the air felt heavier now, pressing against her skin. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

And for a moment—just a small, bitter moment—she wondered if she had just lost everything she had been fighting for.

Fervor continued to stare at her and Fiona stared back aware that he probably wanted her to get up and leave but with no intention of doing such a thing.

Taking a deep breath in she settled on trying to reason with him.

"You can sleep with as many women as you want if we get married! I won’t stop you!" She told him with an expression that borthered on confusión on her face as she stared at him only to frown as she watched him Shake his head.

"No! I want to sleep with you!" Speaking in anyone of finality that made anger rise up from her belly like flamea.