Chapter 29: Where is the Traitor?

Chapter 29: Where is the Traitor?

The citizens and guards of the Candy Kingdom were fully absorbed in the restoration of their homes, rejoicing in the triumph of their esteemed princess. She had once again proven her greatness by shielding them from an unforeseen calamity—a looming curse that had threatened to consume their beloved kingdom.

But none of them saw the fleeting image that had just slipped beyond their borders—a vision of the blond-haired boy carrying their queen in his arms, spiriting her away. It was a haunting portrait, an eerie display of transition, as if depicting PB’s **** shift from one reality to another.

The wind toyed with her flowing pink hair, its strands dancing wildly as she clung involuntarily to his frame. She could feel his warmth pressing against her. It was foreign yet familiar, unsettling yet undeniable. As her gaze drifted backward, she saw her kingdom growing smaller, fading into the horizon. The realization of its diminishing presence gnawed at her insides, a silent omen of a change she hadn’t asked for—one she wasn’t prepared to face.

Her eyes returned to Finn, who moved forward with unwavering determination, his grip firm, his direction absolute. His gaze remained locked ahead, unreadable, unshaken. The sight of her kingdom disappearing coupled with the unwavering confidence in his expression sent a shiver through her chest.

This wasn’t just an escape. This was a shift in power.

His eyes flicked toward her, just briefly, acknowledging her stare. There was no sympathy in them, no remorse—just an unyielding presence. "It’s a bit chilly, don’t you think?" he murmured, pulling up the hood of his jacket, shielding his golden locks from the playful grasp of the wind.

She turned her face away, forcing herself to focus on the night-shrouded fields. But what troubled her was neither the cold nor the uncertain path ahead. It was something far more insidious.

Herself.

Of course, she was afraid. She was devastated. She was drowning in guilt, shame, confusion, and terror. She could feel every ounce of it clawing at her insides, suffocating her with its merciless grip.

And yet, deep within the chaos of her mind, a different sensation festered.

A

[warmth.

It

](http://warmth.It) was small. Insignificant. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface. An ember refusing to be extinguished. Was it the residual touch of her stolen pride? Or something else—something primal, something awakening?

She gritted her teeth. No. This was humiliation. This was her spirit recoiling at the notion of submission. She was PB—the queen of the Candy Kingdom. She had commanded armies, conquered lands, and shaped the very political landscape of Ooo. The only rival she had ever known was the Fire Kingdom itself, and even then, she had stood untouchable.

Finn had obliterated that invulnerability. Not over years, not through conquest, but in a moment. With nothing but his will, he had reduced her from an untouchable monarch to a girl—his girl. His property to command and chastise as he saw fit.

A bitch at his beck and call.

A tremor crawled through her frame, her nails digging into the fabric of her dress as her mind warred against itself. Finn watched her struggle, his smirk barely noticeable beneath the shadows.

"You look troubled," he remarked dryly.

She exhaled slowly before tilting her head just enough to meet his gaze. "Many... troubles," she admitted, her voice hollow, fingers twitching as she moved to cover one of her eyes.

"They’ll pass with time," he said nonchalantly.

"How?" she whispered.

"Everything in its time, darling. Everything in its time." His words, cryptic and deliberate, only deepened the pit in her stomach.

He wasn’t making a promise. He wasn’t offering comfort. He was stating a fact. She would adjust. She would accept. Because she had no other choice.

PB looked ahead and saw the looming entrance of a cave—a familiar one. Her breath hitched in her throat as a wave of fresh panic settled in her gut.

Marceline’s cave.

Her body tensed instinctively. "Wait, wait! Where do you think you’re going?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. Struggling in his grasp, she realized all too well what would happen if she faced Marceline like this. The respect, the reverence—everything Marceline had once felt for her—would shatter instantly.

"Stay still!" Finn’s voice cut through her movements like a whip. She froze, a jolt of fear spiking through her limbs.

His patience was thin. She could feel it in his tone, in the way his grip remained steady yet unrelenting. Defying him wouldn’t end well.

Without another word, Finn floated into the dark mouth of the cave, his steps unhurried, deliberate. The small house at the center of the cavern loomed ahead, barely illuminated by the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the cracks above.

"Where is Simon?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet yet heavy.

PB’s breath caught. Of all things he could’ve said, she hadn’t expected that.

Simon was the one who had told her about Finn—the one who had tried to help her erase him. And if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that Finn had a long memory for grudges.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She hesitated, her mind racing through the consequences. Lying wouldn’t work—he was too calculated for that. He wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t already sure she knew the answer. If she told him, she would be handing Simon over on a silver platter.

And she had no doubt what Finn would do with him.

"I... Ice Kingdom." There was no other option. This wasn’t the Finn she once knew, and she had no intention of testing the consequences of angering him. The pain from the fresh mark on her back still throbbed, a reminder of the unshakable hold he had placed upon her. That lingering wound was more than physical—it was a symbol, a brand, an inescapable stain on her very soul.

"Oh... damn." Finn’s brows knitted together in irritation. That should have been the first place he looked. He had assumed Simon wouldn’t be so predictable, that the man would have at least chosen a more elusive hiding place. But either Simon was a fool, or he had been so utterly convinced of Finn’s **** that he never considered being hunted down.

The two of them landed in front of Marceline’s cave, the pounding noise of heavy rock shaking the very ground beneath them. Finn took the lead, his footsteps steady as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, with PB trailing silently behind him. Each step he took up the stairs was met with an increase in the deafening volume of the music above.

When he reached the vampire queen’s room, he shoved the door open without hesitation.

Marceline was floating, guitar in hand, completely lost in her performance. The sheer intensity of her playing, the way her voice roared through the air—it was intoxicating, unrestrained. And she was utterly naked, without a shred of modesty, lost in the depths of her own music.

Her eyes remained shut as she screamed the lyrics, fingers dancing along the strings, until she finally reached for the amp to adjust the sound—only then did she catch sight of the two figures standing in her doorway.

"Oh, Finn?!" she shouted, excitement bursting through her voice as she tossed the guitar cable aside. Without a second thought, she floated toward him, her smirk wicked, her body moving with sinful confidence.

"Awesome, you’re back already!" Without warning, she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close. His face was buried between her soft, perky breasts, her bare skin pressing into him as she purred with satisfaction. That playful, cocky smirk—the one she had been missing for months—curled across her lips.

Then her eyes flickered to the side, catching sight of the still, quiet princess standing just beyond Finn.

"Wait... PB? What the hell are you—?" Her words trailed off, her crimson eyes darting between the two of them.

PB’s presence, her vacant expression, the eerie silence that clung to her like a shroud—it all pointed to one thing.

Something had already happened between them.

The realization hit Marceline like a bolt of lightning. She stiffened, suspicion creeping through her veins. She had long stopped viewing PB with the same affection she once held, but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry. Especially now. Especially with the Finn that stood before her—a Finn who was no longer the boy she once knew.

"Finn," she murmured, her tone shifting, tightening. She pulled his face back just enough to meet his eyes. "What’s going on?"

But Finn didn’t answer. He merely released her from his grasp, stepping away. Then, without a second thought, he turned to PB and shoved her toward Marceline.

"Watch her for a while. I have something to do." His voice was flat, indifferent.

He descended the stairs without another word, and a moment later, the front door slammed shut, leaving the two women alone.

They stood in silence.

Marceline’s crimson eyes burned with anger, disgust, and an unwilling curiosity, while PB’s dull, hollow gaze barely acknowledged her presence. She lowered her eyes, her expression unreadable, but the weight of her emotions clung to her like a second skin.

Marceline was the first to snap out of it—because only now did she realize she was still completely naked in front of the princess. A sharp blush surged across her face as she let out a startled yelp, vanishing into her room in a blur. The door slammed shut behind her as she hurried to dress, muttering curses under her breath.

Minutes later, Marceline returned, fully dressed, and the two found themselves sitting in the living room below. The tension was suffocating. Marceline lounged on a wooden chair, resting her arm on the table, while PB sat on the couch, face resting against her palm, drowning in

[thought.

It

](http://thought.It) was Marceline who finally broke the silence.

"Hey, you. Do you know where Finn went?" Her voice was sharp, annoyed, but there was an underlying unease buried beneath it.

PB barely stirred. "You should already know," she murmured, her tone lifeless.

Marceline’s jaw clenched. "Keep your damn riddles to yourself!" she snapped, frustration seeping into her words.

The princess finally glanced at her, but only for a brief moment before looking away. "That’s up to you, Marceline."

That response didn’t sit well with her. Not at all.

Marceline leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "What happened?"

PB’s body stiffened. Just hearing those words made her heart hammer violently in her chest. Her breath came slower, shallower, as memories clawed their way to the surface—memories she had tried so desperately to suppress.

Her hand moved, almost involuntarily, to the spot just beneath her right shoulder blade. Her fingers ghosted over the tender flesh, where Finn had left his mark—his claim.

The wound was still warm. The pain still lingered. Even the slightest touch sent a jolt of agony through her nerves, forcing her to recoil, fingers trembling.

But that mark was more than just

[flesh-deep.

It

](http://flesh-deep.It) was burned into her heart, her mind, her soul.

Marceline saw it all. She saw the way PB’s hand hovered over the spot, the way her fingers twitched, the way her eyes darkened with something too deep, too raw to be spoken aloud.

Marceline knew Finn had done something.

Something unnatural.

But what?

That was the question that gnawed at her bones.

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