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[ELARA]Magnus will never let Ruelle marry Alpha Zander. He’d do anything in his power to stop it, even if the match is approved by the king. He will not let Eldric undermine him this way, not by hurting his little sister. He couldn’t.Once upon a time, I would’ve approved the match myself. I respected Zander as the alpha of my pack—not just because I had to, but because I believed he was a good man. But when I learned of his deception, all that respect turned to hatred. He knew of the connection between Alec and me and yet, he forced me to marry Magnus. He played Alina's game to fool me. And then he commanded Alec to become my personal guard, knowing it would rip his heart to shreds.And the way he held Alina’s hand and whispered in her ear, causing her to tremble, I have no doubt that Zander is merely another pawn in Eldric’s game to hurt Magnus.I know how important it is to find Magnus and tell him immediately about this, but I can neither find him amidst this crowd nor Ruelle and
[ELARA]For a long moment after Valen disappears into the crowd, I find myself wondering if he was real. Because nothing about him felt real. The way he looked at me seemed otherworldly. His very face and the grace with which he moved felt… unreal. He truly worked to distract me and unburdened me, strangely. And the fact that he knew my name, but referred to me as Lady and not Princess. I haven’t seen him here before in court. I’d remember him if I had. Having a ruby embedded in place of one of your eyes certainly makes you stand out. I’m involuntarily looking for him in the crowd—trying to find the wisp of his black robes, embroidered with gold thread—when Lord Brook approaches.“Have the next dance with me, Princess Elara,” he says, with a grin on his face that makes my skin crawl.I shake my head, forcing a polite smile. “Forgive me, Lord Brook, but I do not feel like dancing anymore,” I tell him. ‘Especially with you,’ I hold myself back from adding, though the thought lingers on m
Several hours later, deep into the night, I find myself leading my pack members to their assigned quarters on the orders of King Eldric. His revelation that they would stay until after the wedding horrified me, especially when I realized he meant Ruelle and Alpha Zander’s wedding.The guests’ quarters are located on the west end of the palace, on the lowest floor carved into the ground. The moment I step inside, a suffocating sensation fills the air. The rooms are spacious enough, but their windowless nature and lack of breeze make them stifling. It feels eerily similar to the servants’ quarters I visited earlier while searching for Beatrice.These are not really for guests, I think to myself. The thought gnaws at me as I glance around. Despite this, Alina seems enchanted, her eyes wide with amazement at the modest furnishings. In her view, they are luxurious compared to what we have in Mistral Hollow. I can only imagine her reaction if she saw my chamber, with its large ruby-clad mir
[ELARA]“Elara?” Magnus says my name again, his voice a mix of worry and something else I can't quite place. He crosses the room with purposeful strides, stopping just a few steps away from my bed. My eyes flicker nervously to the pillow concealing the poison vial before meeting his golden gaze. My heart hammers against my chest, and I know he can hear it. His expression shifts from concern to confusion.‘Talk to him,’ Lila’s voice echoes in my mind, but I can’t find the words or the will to speak. Does he know I've been threatened to poison him? Did he see me hide the vial? Does he think I’m going to betray him?“Elara,” he repeats softly, his tone pleading.As he takes an uncertain step closer, I finally find my voice. I stand up abruptly, holding my breath. “Magnus,” I whisper, my voice trembling.He steps back, his eyes widening in alarm. For a moment, he looks afraid, as if he’s broken something fragile between us. He swallows hard before speaking, his voice hoarse. “You didn’t c
[ELARA]“And what if I do?" Magnus challenges, his voice dropping to a whisper, but the intensity of his words slices through the air.His eyes widen as he realizes what he has just said, words he can’t take back. I fold my hands around my arms, holding my breath as I tear my gaze away from him. I feel vulnerable, almost naked, standing here in front of him. The distance between us feels unbearable, a chasm I cannot cross. “I suppose you can care,” I answer meekly. My voice comes out all strange, and I feel foolish. I turn away and walk to the open window that looks over the Cursed Gulf. The waves crash violently against the shore, and for a moment, I wish they could swallow me whole. “What harm will that do?”“It can kill you,” he answers without missing a beat. His gaze burns into the back of my head.Please don’t look at me, I think to myself. Not right now. Not when I should be thinking about how to poison you.‘You don’t want to poison him,’ Lila’s voice interrupts my mind.I ha
[MAGNUS]I toss and turn the whole night over the diwan, finding no sleep. The cool night air does nothing to quell the heat in my mind. Shadows dance on the walls, cast by the flickering candlelight. My eyes repeatedly flicker to Elara’s sleeping figure on the bed, and every time, I relive the moment we shared.Slipping away that I care for her. Slowly unlacing her gown as I hear her heart race. The shiver that ran through me when I accidentally brushed her skin. The undeniable urge to deliberately graze her bare back with my fingers. Our breaths mingling with each other. The look of longing in her green eyes as she eyed my lips. And the almost kiss.My body betrays me. Every time I look down at myself, I'm still aroused. I'm a fool. The most foolish fool to ever exist. And Creed agrees every time I whisper it to myself through the night.How can I so easily lose control of myself? This is not something that has troubled me before.Chopping Lord Brook’s fingers was a reckless move—I s
[MAGNUS]I keep my eyes glued to the new sand clock, focusing on the purple swirls that begin at its neck and diffuse to either side as Lord Roland is made to read out the new roles. His voice is hesitant at best as he reads, “The role of Alpha Regent has not been changed. It still belongs to Lord Wieser. So is the role of War Chief—”“Fool,” Eldric mutters lazily, leaning back and placing his hand on the new table. His expression remains unreadable, but his tone carries a hint of disdain. “Don’t read it all. Just the new ones.”Lord Roland wipes the sweat from his brows before he proceeds, “Forgive me, Your Grace. Lord Hylas, you no longer serve as the Moon Priest. You’ve been replaced by Lord Steele.”Lord Hylas’ face twists in pain and he leans forward, his knuckles white against the polished wood of the table. Before he can protest, Eldric interjects. “You’re a shame. No man who speaks the word of the Goddess curses as often as you do.”There goes a man who sided with my father wh
[MAGNUS]‘Tread carefully,’ Creed echoes in my mind, and I halt, taken by surprise. I will never get used to being advised by him ever again. Not since the prolonged silences and mockery I suffered after the death of Nyra.With Alistair by my side, I march to Ruelle’s chambers, our footsteps echoing through the stone corridors. I’m not surprised to find my stepmother, Lady Celia, there. However, the sight of Princess Daphne lounging gracefully on one of the lilac chaises catches me off guard. They are all seated on the set of lilac chaises that Ruelle had insisted on bringing back from Qaiven a few weeks ago, engaged in what appears to be a deeply intriguing discussion. A hush falls over the room as I clear my throat, the sound slicing through their conversation like a blade. Daphne is the first to notice me, her brown eyes turning sharply in my direction, assessing and calculating.“Prince Magnus,” she mumbles in a honeyed voice, dipping her head slightly in a gesture of respect that
[ELARA]I notice, somewhere between the refilled goblets and the swelling melody of the Bard’s latest song, that Magnus is gone. And Alistair with him. Not that I was informed about it. The feast carries on without them. The Bard, ever the showman, soaks in the attention, strumming his lute with a smirk that suggests he’s well aware of the effect he has on the court. Thornhall has something new to play with tonight. The dancers sit sulking in a corner, forgotten. The musicians find themselves disagreeing with the songs. “I will bed this man tonight,” Lady Brook announces, her words thick with drink as she leans forward, nearly spilling from her seat.I arch a brow. “The Bard?”“Who else?” she breathes, eyes heavy-lidded. “Look at him. That mouth was made for more than singing.”“That’s ambitious.” I huff a quiet laugh, lifting my goblet to my lips. “Don’t let Edith know.”“If I had a mother like that—” she begins with a lazy grin, then downs the rest of her wine. “What do you think
[ELARA]“Did you enjoy the ballad, Your Highness?” Valen’s teasing voice curls around me, his amusement barely concealed. He rises from his seat with effortless grace, extending his hand as if he knew—knew—I would come to him. “I worked with the man himself to craft it.”Every movement in the hall slows. A royal woman should not do this. A wife should not do this. The weight of a hundred eyes presses upon me, mouths whispering, hands tightening around goblets—a scandal. But let them watch. Let them see what their beloved prince has wrought. Let them murmur about the disgrace of Magnus’ mate, the woman who was meant to stand at his side.I take Valen’s hand. His skin is cooler than Magnus’, his grip lighter, but no less commanding.“Do not speak,” I say, my voice a blade, and he only grins.“Remember when I told you last night that when you command me, you’re even—”I cut him off. “Will you dance with me or not?” My words are steel-wrapped velvet, laced with something desperate and rec
[ELARA]I want to leave. No—storm off. Let every guest see, let them know I do not stand by their beloved Prince, their cold and callous Magnus. Let them whisper about the insult, the blatant disrespect. I would not care. I want them to see. I want him to see.How dare he? How dare he shatter my heart so effortlessly, as if it were made of glass? If this is his response—if this is how he welcomes another into his arms so easily, so publicly—then what has he done in the quiet of the past five months? How many nights has he spent like this, without hesitation, without guilt?I knew Talisa—Morgana… kept him company, but I thought… no more. Not since he learned what we are to each other. Not since he learned I am his mate. But now my heart burns, set upon a spit, roasting in the heat of my own foolishness.I told myself he wouldn’t. That he couldn’t. But I see now—I was wrong. I was so wrong.And I kept Valen away because it was him I thought of. Even when Valen’s hands traced my skin, I
[MAGNUS]Valen parts as if nothing has transpired between them—as if he didn’t just openly challenge me. He moves leisurely, as though this is his court, and not mine. A smirk ghosts his lips as he settles into one of the crowded rows, plucking a goblet of wine from a passing maid’s tray with effortless ease.His gaze doesn’t stray from Elara. He watches her as if she belongs to him. He dares to do this. Right in front of my eyes. In a castle I rule.Alistair steps forward to replace the bent chalice without a word. The wine’s poured again, but I no longer care to drink more. If the barrier in Elara’s chamber wasn’t breached, and Valen did not leave his chambers the whole night, when could he have given her the gift? And what did he give her? Before I can demand an answer from Elara, I’m interrupted by a lord whose name I do not recall. “Your Highness,” the human begins, bowing impressively low despite his age. “This humble servant has brought you an offering.”His voice draws Ela
[MAGNUS]As the sun dips down the horizon, the Small Hall of the castle packs up with guests. Among the crowd are those who reside in the castle, lords and ladies from all corners of Tassel, and some from beyond the borders. And then there are the performers—the usual musicians, and the new dancers. And the bard—invited by Lord Valen. The air is already filled with lively music by the time I make my entry into the hall. I put on my persona—one I’ve perfected to please the masses, a mask that has efficiently erased my image as the crippled, wicked Prince of Caelondor, a name whispered across the continent. I smile, laugh, and greet people. It doesn’t matter who they are, they all get the same wide mouthed grin. They bow and curtsy. Others who are more touchy are removed by Alistair effortlessly. I don’t even sense her at first due to the shield. But she’s there, sitting on a chair behind the banquet table, hands clasped in her lap, looking ethereal in a golden and white gown. I forge
[MAGNUS]To His Highness, the Rightful Heir,Your Highness,I pray this letter reaches you in safe hands, for I write in desperate times. The kingdom you once called home trembles under the weight of the false king’s rule. His greed knows no bounds—lands are seized without cause, coffers are drained by insatiable taxation, and noble blood is spilled for the mere crime of questioning his judgment. Once-loyal houses now stand divided as their heirs are taken as hostages, their warriors forced to fight in unwinnable wars against territories that were never our enemies. Your father’s kingdom is on the brink of ruin. The people whisper of rebellion, but they lack a leader to rally behind. Many among the nobility look not to the throne in the capital, but to the exiled prince, the rightful ruler, the son of a true king. If you would return, you would not stand alone. There are those of us willing to defy the tyrant and restore honor to the crown, even if he refuses to name you heir, we nee
[ELARA]I find myself on the shore of the Cursed Gulf yet again. The sky above me is the colour of flames—golden, orange, streaks of yellow and black, the world tilted on its axis in my perspective. My feet are hidden beneath the sand, but I don’t panic. Yet, I still wonder. Why am I back here again? My dreams haven’t been plagued by the Soulkeeper in months. Not since Valen taught me how to stop acknowledging its presence. I know I didn’t sleep with poison beneath my pillow last night.And I still am here, trapped in this nightmare. This is not real, I tell myself, willingly for this to fade, for me to wake. But it doesn’t happen. I suppose I will have to endure. And so I do. The boiling water of the sea lashes on the shore with each wave until it freezes, a cold mist enveloping me. This time when the Soulkeeper comes on his cog, his face isn’t hidden. No, the hood is drawn back, and staring right into my soul is the one red eye of Valen Blackbane. And despite everything I know a
[ELARA]Valen moves easily, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he is left in little more than a linen shirt, loose at the collar, and dark trousers that sit low on his hips. The candlelight casts long shadows over the ridges of his body, tracing over sharp angles and defined muscle, a reminder of what he is—what he can do—something I only had a glimpse of minutes ago. I watch, trying not to. Trying not to compare. And yet, I cannot stop myself from thinking of another man in another bed.Back in Caelondor, when Magnus cared, our chambers had been connected by a hidden passageway. I would slip through in the dead of night, and he would let me in without a word. He would wait for me to come. It was the place where I felt most safe. I would curl into the warmth of him, listening to his steady breaths. In those moments, I could almost pretend that our marriage was more than duty.I remember the way he would shed his royal armor piece by piece, leaving himself bare in ways he n
[ELARA]On any other night, I would have been cautious, wary of the vampire’s seductive pull, the way he ensnares his prey, just as mentioned in the passage. But tonight, the Burn eclipses reason, and every brush of Valen’s touch sets me alight, leaving me aching, craving.And he looks prepared to give me all I demand and more. Valen doesn’t need further assurance. His lips drag slowly from the curve of my shoulder, up my neck, to finally halt at my earlobe, nibbling it gently. My eyes roll to the back of my head as the sensation consumes me completely. I’m gasping, my breath shaky as I struggle to find something to do with my own hands, while his left arm snakes around the front of my waist, pressing my back against his hard body. The sound of his breath in my ear is maddening. It’s fast, irregular. A lot more intense than what breathing should sound like. He pauses from my ear, returning to press kisses to my shoulder only to push the sleeve of my shift down my arm with his teeth.