I Got Married to a Yandere Queen
Chapter 72 - 71 - A Lesson in Seduction

Chapter 72: Chapter 71 - A Lesson in Seduction

Brigitta sat gracefully on a rattan chair adorned with golden carvings, an old book resting open on her lap. Her slender fingers turned the pages carefully, her lips mouthing the words in silence. The golden light of the afternoon sun streamed through the window, dancing across the polished wooden floor.

But the tranquility shattered in an instant.

Click.

Her door swung open without a knock.

Brigitta turned her head—and immediately, her blood ran cold.

Standing at the threshold was a woman with long, blood-red hair cascading like a cloak of hellfire. Her eyes were dark crimson, her gaze vacant yet sharp, like a blade lurking behind a soft smile.

Ashtoria Belmore.

The Queen.

That madwoman.

Horrible memories surged through her mind—the day of her wedding, when she stood at the altar beside Armand... and then that woman appeared, dragging her away like a doll. And later that night, when she tried to share her first night with her husband—only for that same woman to bang on their chamber door, disrupting everything.

"Y-Your Majesty...!" Brigitta shot up from her seat, bowing in a panic. The book slid from her lap and hit the floor with a thump.

"Forgive me... p-please, come in! Please have a seat...!" she stammered, hastily clearing the cushion and pulling out a chair for her guest with trembling hands.

Ashtoria stepped into the room without a word, her movements so light they made no sound, yet every step made Brigitta hold her breath.

She sat down gracefully, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling on Brigitta—unblinking, unreadable.

Brigitta felt frozen in place. She had no idea what was happening. Had she offended the queen somehow? Had some vicious rumor about her begun to spread?

"Is there something I can help you with, Your Majesty...?" she asked softly, trying to steady the tremble in her voice.

Ashtoria didn’t answer right away.

She merely studied Brigitta, as though trying to decipher something—or perhaps... compare.

Then, in a low, flat voice, Ashtoria finally spoke.

"I heard you managed to make a man who doesn’t fall in love... fall for you."

Brigitta blinked, startled. "Y-Your Majesty...?"

"Young Lord Valderacht," Ashtoria continued. "They say... you were the one who pursued him first. Even after rejection, you persisted. And in the end... he fell in love with you."

Brigitta swallowed hard. She was starting to understand where this was going... and that only made her more nervous.

"Y-Yes, it’s true, Your Majesty, but it—it was mostly luck and—"

"I want to know," Ashtoria cut in, her voice soft but firm. "How you did it."

Brigitta fell silent, eyes widening slowly.

"Tell me," Ashtoria leaned forward now, her face terrifyingly close, "how you made a man fall so deeply in love with you... that he can’t live without you. Answer me truthfully."

The room seemed to close in on her.

Brigitta remained frozen, her hands clutching tightly at the fabric of her long skirt. Her heart pounded so violently she could feel it in her throat. She truly didn’t understand. Why was the queen—Ashtoria Belmore, the woman who once kidnapped her on her wedding day, now demanding such an intimate answer?

The question... was far too personal.

She wanted to believe she had misheard.

But that hope vanished when the queen spoke again—her voice colder, sharper.

"Answer me."

The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Brigitta knew she couldn’t answer carelessly. A single wrong word could mean death. With a voice trembling like a leaf, she finally whispered,

"I... seduced him."

She immediately lowered her head, as though trying to hide from the burning shame.

But before the queen could make a wrong assumption, Brigitta hurriedly added—her voice soft, pleading for understanding:

"But I’m not a loose woman, Your Majesty! I only did it because I loved him. I know who he is. And I’ve never done anything like that with anyone but Armand, my husband."

Her eyes glistened with tears. As a noblewoman from a conservative kingdom, just uttering those words was enough to tarnish her reputation. But now, she was being forced to speak them in front of the queen—a woman who could end her life at any moment.

In that instant, Ashtoria’s glowing red gaze froze the blood in her veins. The queen’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly—not in shock, but in silent command.

Explain more.

Brigitta swallowed. Her throat was parched. With great effort, she continued.

"Armand... he’s a very closed-off man. Difficult to approach. Sweet words and gentle compliments don’t reach him. So..."

She lowered her gaze further, her cheeks burning.

"I tried something else. I... used my body."

Her voice was barely audible, as if each word stabbed at her pride.

Brigitta’s face flushed red. She hung her head, consumed by shame, praying the queen wouldn’t torment her further.

But that hope crumbled when Ashtoria’s voice returned—colder now, more piercing.

"What do you mean... by using your body?"

Brigitta flinched slightly. She closed her eyes briefly, as if searching for strength to speak. There was no escape. She had to answer. Honestly. Completely.

"I... slept with him," she whispered, like a sinner confessing.

Ashtoria remained silent. But her gaze did not.

There was something stirring behind those crimson eyes—a mix of curiosity, jealousy, and something darker still.

Sleep together?

She and Riven also shared a bed every night. They embraced. Slept side by side. But... was it the same?

Brigitta’s burning cheeks seemed to answer: no.

Something was different.

"Tell me." "What did you do... when you slept with him?"

The question was cold, yet crystal clear. This time, it landed like a blade in Brigitta’s chest.

Her eyes widened. ’What...?’

But Ashtoria didn’t repeat it. She simply stared. Deeply. Demanding.

Brigitta swallowed again. This wasn’t mere curiosity. Deep in her heart, she now suspected the queen was doing this to punish her—to humiliate her. Was this vengeance? Did Ashtoria still hold a grudge over what happened in the past?

She trembled. But she knew. There was no room for denial.

With a shaky, halting voice, she answered.

"I held him... then... kissed his lips... and..." She paused, lowering her gaze even more. Her voice cracked. "I undressed him... and kissed his body. His neck, his chest... all the way down. Then... he kissed me too. We kissed each other’s bodies and... and... you know what I mean, Your Majesty!"

The last words burst out in a panic. Brigitta covered her face with both hands, her skin burning with humiliation.

Ashtoria remained silent.

Her thoughts spun rapidly.

She remembered how Riven once kissed her neck. Her ears. Even near the scar on her body. And in that moment, she did feel something... strange. Not pain. But as if her body melted from the inside.

But... they had never undressed.

They had never gone that far.

Ashtoria’s grip on the armrest tightened slightly.

So that’s it... that’s what was missing.

Now she understood.

Hugs and kisses... weren’t the end.

There was something deeper. Something more intimate. Something that might—just might—bind Riven not just to her presence... but to her completely.

Her eyes narrowed.

"...I see," she murmured—perhaps to herself.