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80. Where Grief Meets Schemes
Last Updated:
2024-10-06 03:25:42
Priyal DessaiThanks for reading! Please consider voting with gems or dropping a comment :)
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[ELARA]The council chamber takes me by surprise the moment I first step into it. The very air here feels different — it’s heavy, and it stinks of schemes and twisted betrayals. As I watch the painted ceiling with awe, depicting history spanning centuries, I wonder how much of it is real, and how much is glorified. Eldric sits at the head of the table, his face twisted with fury, his eyes locked onto Ruelle. Around him, the council members murmur amongst themselves, their voices low but pointed. Lady Celia sits on the far end, her gaze fixed on her lap, while Queen Seraphina stares blankly ahead, seeing nothing, but hearing it all. My gaze shifts to the right end of the table, where a massive sand clock sits atop an ornate pedestal — newly installed, by the look of it. The sand inside isn’t the usual pale golden hue but swirls of deep purple that shimmer as they fall in a slow, measured cascade. It’s strange and beautiful, almost hypnotic. I wonder if it’s meant to symbolize time sl
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[ELARA]My thoughts keep me awake through the night, but beside me, Magnus sleeps. And he sleeps well. His chest rises and falls with a steady rhythm, his features softened in the quiet peace of slumber. There’s no tension in his brow, no restless stirring. It’s as if a great burden has been lifted off him, and I know exactly why.He’s unburdened — glad of the move he made. His sister is now betrothed to Prince Rasmus of Qaiven, a calculated maneuver that ensures Ruelle’s safety. He believes her future is secure, that she will be protected. For Magnus, it is a victory, another checkmate in his game of strategy. I’ve watched him over the past few nights, restless and brooding, pacing the room in the dead of night, his thoughts as troubled as mine. But not tonight.Tonight, he sleeps like a baby.And yet, I am wide awake, left to question everything about his choice.It was a cruel way to go about it. Ruelle’s reputation is ruined. There’s no taking back the whispers that now circulate t
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[ELARA]The light seeps through the cracks in the curtains, and I watch the sun rise higher into the sky. I haven’t slept. Not a blink. The hours have passed in silence, but my mind has been loud — too loud. I’ve spent most of the night wrestling with myself, trying to make sense of this knot of anger, grief, and blame I’ve tangled myself in. I keep circling back to the same thoughts, and it’s all centered around Magnus, as if fighting with him in my head will give me answers.But I know the truth. I’m not really angry with Magnus. He didn’t kill Alina. He didn’t put the dagger in her chest. Still, the fury sits just beneath my skin, restless and aching. I should be grieving for my stepsister. Instead, I’m searching for someone or something to blame.It wasn’t the right decision.Those words keep echoing in my mind. I can’t stop them. I replay everything over and over, hoping for a different outcome. If I’d done something different, would Alina still be alive? If Magnus had refused to
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[ELARA]Magnus stays rooted in place, his eyes glued to the floor, his entire posture rigid as though he’s afraid to move. “You need to be present for the ritual,” he says, his voice strained and formal.I cross my arms over my chest, attempting to cover myself, but it’s more out of defiance than modesty as I narrow my eyes at him. “I know,” I answer, my tone sharper than I intend. “I was preparing for it before you barged in.”He lets out a breath, and I hear a sigh escape his lips, but he doesn’t move. His body language betrays his discomfort. “Elara, I didn’t mean—” His voice falters again, softer this time. “Are you angry at me?”The question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I’m silent. I could feel the tension building between us, but I didn’t expect him to be so direct. My mind races, searching for an answer that makes sense, but the truth is... I don’t know.“I don’t know,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. It’s the most honest thing I’ve sa
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[ELARA]The garden is bathed in the soft, golden light of morning. Each dewdrop clings to the grass like a delicate jewel, reflecting the sunlight in a way that almost makes it seem as if the earth itself is alive, breathing under the warmth of the day. The air is crisp and clean, filled with the gentle fragrance of blooming flowers. On any other day, this would feel like a sanctuary—a peaceful refuge far from the burdens of the castle and the weight of its secrets. But not today. Not with everything that has happened.As I walk towards the gathering, my feet feel heavier with each step, as if some unseen force is pulling me down, keeping me tethered to the ground. I spot Lady Celia, Queen Seraphina, and Ruelle standing near a patch of irises. Not just any irises—the glowing purple ones, rich and vibrant, their petals shimmering in the light like something otherworldly. They remind me of the irises Beatrice once wove into my hair, the same deep, mystical purple that hinted at secrets
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[ELARA] The royal gallery looms ahead of us, its grand doors slightly ajar, waiting to swallow us into its quiet, forgotten world — it’s a place where the very history of Caelondor is etched into the walls, immortalized in paintings and tapestries. And yet it is quiet. I’ve never understood why the residents of the palace don’t seem to appreciate this place more. Perhaps they’ve all been here too many times, their eyes no longer able to see its beauty. But for me, every visit feels like a discovery — a journey into the heart of the past. The sunlight through the window sends the colors of the stained glass dancing across the marble floor, but the gallery remains utterly still, devoid of life beyond us.Ruelle paces slowly in front of the stained-glass wall, her hands clasped in front of her as if holding herself together. She looks incredibly beautiful today, her features sharper, her eyes bluer despite the frown that doesn’t seem to fade. The stained glass wall paints her silhouet
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[MAGNUS]The words I spoke to Elara this morning play over and over in my mind, like a song that refuses to stop, growing louder with each passing hour. They were true, every word, but now I wish I had kept my mouth shut. I should have turned around the moment I realized she was bathing. Creed, my wolf, growls in agreement, though he’s as conflicted as I am.But my heart didn’t listen to reason. I stayed. And for the first time in a long while, I let myself be completely vulnerable.I spoke. I gave voice to everything I’ve been holding back, and now I can’t stop thinking about how foolish it was to break the silence I’ve kept so carefully guarded. I let my walls down — walls I’ve built and reinforced over the years, since the day I lost Nyra. Nyra.Creed howls her name in my mind, stirring the old grief that I’ve learned to keep buried. I promised myself I would never forget her. She was my mate, my first and only love. How could I let myself think, even for a moment, that Elara coul
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[ELARA]Ruelle insists on taking the horses instead of a palanquin, much to the distaste of Lady Celia. Despite all of her mother’s efforts to persuade her, Ruelle remains stubbornly set on her wish to ride into the forest, claiming, “I’ve grown up now, and I can make my own choices!”Lady Celia passes her a glare, but it dissolves as soon as Ruelle wraps her in an embrace. “You must let me make decisions now, mother. But that’s not to say my love or respect for you has diminished in any way. I will always love you and hold you in the highest regard.”For a moment, I hold my breath, expecting my mother-in-law to break out into tears. Her lower lip twitches and then she swallows hard, easing into the hug for a brief moment before letting go. “You’ll always be my little girl, Rue,” she manages to speak in a thick voice before clearing her throat and regaining the sharp edge in her tone. “Don’t flatter me now. It’s your night. Do what you wish.” As Ruelle hops onto the horse that the gua
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 123. The Winter Bard
[ELARA]The bard is not the same man today.Had no one told me it was him—and had I not watched him so closely the night before—I might’ve sworn it was someone else entirely.I suppose madness does that. Warps a person from the inside out. Just last night, he was dressed in fine silks, the very picture of elegance and confidence—charming enough to rival Magnus at his most dazzling. Now? He’s tied to a pillar in Thornhall’s courtyard like a spectacle.He thrashes wildly, laughter cracking through the air in bursts, each followed by guttural cries that scrape the throat raw. But it’s not the noise that sends a chill down my spine.It’s the pearls.A strand of them, strung neatly around his neck—eerily similar to the one I shattered. The one Valen claimed belonged to Raelynn.I take an instinctive step back.“Who painted his lips?” Lady Brook’s voice comes from beside me, thin and sharp. Her hand clutches her throat as if she’s afraid the color might stain her own skin. Her hair, usually
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 122. Tainted
[ELARA]“Magnus,” I call out. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t even pause. The door slams shut behind him, and something inside me breaks. My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, fingers twisting into the fabric of my robe like it can change reality. My lungs can’t find air. It’s like they’re stitched shut.‘You’re panicking,’ Lila says. ‘You must breathe.’But I can’t. I can’t.My hands fly to my throat, clawing at the skin like I can scrub the shame away. My nails scrape across Valen’s bite marks, and the moment my fingers graze them, guilt sinks in like a slow-moving poison.What have I done?He wasn’t lying.I saw it in his golden eyes—saw it when the shield fell between us, when truth flooded that brief second of silence. Magnus hadn’t been with anyone. Not in these long, aching months.Not once.But I had believed wrongly.And it led me to—Lila speaks again, ‘It wasn’t just that. You know it wasn’t.’I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head, biting down
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 121. The Mate I Cannot Claim
[MAGNUS]Setting her free—as she says it—is not going to end my misery. If anything, it’ll make me even more miserable. I don’t hate Elara. I could never hate her. The day I start hating her is the day I lose all control over myself. And the day I lose all control of myself is the day I lose her. So I can’t accept her as my mate. I can't get through the ritual and let the bond strengthen. I can’t mark her, can’t make her mine, not until I have eradicated all of my enemies. Until Eldric lies cold in his grave. One more loss… and there will be no going back. Creed’s agony will consume me, break my mind until I’m left as nothing but a hollow shell. Elara stands there looking utterly broken, crying as if there’s no strength left in her. And it is all my fault. Whatever anger I feel, the urge to burn the world to the ground, the desire to see Valen crushed to a pulp—I push it all aside. Lock it inside a part of my mind where I stash all of my irrational thoughts. Valen fed on her, I
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 120. His Wife
[ELARA]Magnus barges in, cutting through the space with quick strides and startling Edith. “Leave,” he tells Edith, not even sparing her a glance. That single word is enough to tell me that he has come here with boiling blood. I don’t even need to consider the fury in his golden eyes. Edith swallows hard, and scurries off but not before tossing me a fleeting look. There’s prayer in her eyes. She is unaware that nothing can save me from Magnus’ wrath. For a moment, silence lingers—a kind where you can hear the sounds of our hearts racing. Stupidly, I stare at Magnus’ face too long, and my chest tightens with an odd feeling. Something that feels a lot like longing. ‘Tread carefully,’ Lila warns. “So you’ve finally come,” I say, nonchalantly running my fingers through my hair as I turn my back on him and walk to the mirror. “You deceived me into thinking you had no idea where my chamber was.”How much does he know? I wonder as I sit down on the bench, staring at my reflection. He’s
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 119. The Vampire's Offer
[ELARA]I stare at the ceiling, breathing a little too loud. I’m aware of the sweat covering my naked body, of the puncture wounds on my neck that are still blazing, eliciting waves of pleasure although Valen is no longer feeding on me. The desire to curl up and close my eyes and shut myself from the world feels too overwhelming. What have I done?A slow breath drifts against my shoulder.I go still.He’s awake.Heat creeps up my neck, shame curling in my stomach. I don’t dare look at him. If I do, I’ll see it—the smug amusement in his expression, the satisfaction, the knowing.I close my eyes, as if I can will myself back into ignorance. As if I can pretend I didn’t just let Valen—the last person I should have touched—consume me whole.“You're thinking too much,” his voice breaks the silence. It’s unbothered. I flinch.He chuckles. “I can hear it, you know. That frantic little heartbeat of yours.”My fingers curl into the sheets, my breath catching. “Go away,” I murmur.Valen shif
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 118. Blood and Desire
[ELARA]Something tells me Valen knows I’m here, and that I’m watching him, but doesn’t stop. “What do you think you are doing?” I hiss at him when I finally find my voice again, daring myself to walk closer. He glances at me leisurely, licking his bloodied lips as he lifts his head from her neck. “I was hungry,” he says with a shrug, and casts Tara aside like a doll. She leans against the wall, the euphoric smile on her face still lingering. “You look… displeased.”I hesitate. I did not think I would Tara here. I really believed she was with Magnus. “She’s our guest,” I whisper, my fingers twitching to reach her, to check if she’s okay—but I don’t. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to touch her. Not when she looks like she’s floating in some distant bliss. “You can’t harm her.”Valen cocks his head slightly, amused. “Harm?” He gestures lazily at Tara’s boneless form. “Does she look harmed to you?”I scoff. “You—” I swallow, forcing air into my lungs. “You drank her blood.”He smirks,
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 117. The Stable boy
[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
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 116. Burning for the Enemy
[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
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 115. A Fool for the Last Time
[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
