All Chapters of The Rejected Mate's Curse : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

As I stood there, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. I could see Ryker listening intently to the priest, his posture poised, his demeanor calm. But I knew the information was more for his benefit than mine. He hadn’t grown up in this world of royal duties and expectations. This was new territory for him, despite his strong presence as Alpha of his pack. But I was the Queen, and the ceremonial aspects of it all felt like a burden I had no interest in carrying anymore.When the ceremony began, I let my mind wander. I moved through the motions on autopilot, my body moving mechanically through the process. Even the birth of Audrey had been less grueling in comparison to the current weight of my responsibilities. But today was different. I felt isolated in my discomfort, easily irritated by the solemnity of it all.Ryker, as ever, stayed close, his steady presence like an anchor in the storm of my emotions. I leaned on his calm energy as I felt my own anxiety churn i

Ryker and I sprang to action immediately, our instincts sharp as steel. He carefully handed Aurora to Christine, who had followed us anxiously, and we strode toward the front of the palace where the supposed "message" awaited. My heart hammered in my chest, equal parts dread and fury, as we neared the commotion. I imagined a parcel, a sealed envelope—something tangible. Instead, what greeted me was a single page plastered against the palace wall like an ominous warning.I ripped the paper free, my hands trembling slightly as I scanned the text. Two lines in, my blood turned cold. It wasn’t just a message; it was a fragment of my father’s journal, unmistakably written in his hand. My mind raced, trying to piece together how this page—this deeply personal piece of history—had ended up here."Does anyone know how this got here?" I demanded, my voice slicing through the tense silence. The guards exchanged wary glances but said nothing. I felt Ryker’s reassuring presence at my side before

Camilla's P.O.V.Christine’s words hung heavy in the air as we stood in Ryker’s office. My mind struggled to process what she had just revealed. She spread the old, crinkled papers across the desk with a mix of pride and urgency, but I couldn’t shake my disbelief.“Tunnels?” I repeated, the word foreign and almost absurd. “He’s using tunnels to move in and out of the palace?” I looked at her, searching for some mistake, some flaw in the theory. “How didn’t we know about them? How didn’t you know about them? Surely my mother—she would’ve told you, wouldn’t she?”Christine’s face was shadowed with regret. “I don’t think she knew,” she admitted softly, her voice tinged with both frustration and apology. “The tunnels aren’t on any of the official blueprints. The only reason I found them was because of these old architectural notes. They’re not even complete—most of the original plans are lost. These were just notes from after your parents married. They mention the tunnels, but the newer r

CAMILLA'S P.O.V.As the last piece of Eva’s story came to light, a heavy ache settled deep in my chest. The more I learned about Frederick’s past, the more I felt the weight of his pain. A boy raised in isolation, with no family to guide him, no friends to lift his spirits—only the ghost of a mother clinging to a love that could never truly be hers. How could anyone grow into anything but a storm after that?“Camilla,” Ryker’s voice pulled me from my thoughts as he joined me by the window. The moonlight painted his features with a quiet tenderness. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”I didn’t answer right away, afraid my words might betray the turmoil swirling inside. Instead, I focused on the stars, letting their cold, distant beauty steady me.“You’re thinking about him again,” he guessed, his voice tinged with concern. “Frederick.”“I can’t help it,” I admitted softly. “He’s not just some villain in a story, Ryker. He’s a person—a hurt, desperate person. Maybe... maybe this is

CAMILLA’S P.O.V.The palace felt suffocating that morning—an air of tension so thick, it clung to everything. Guards rushed through the halls, their steps echoing with urgency, as they tried, in vain, to track Frederick's movements. They combed the towns, questioned villagers, and searched every nook and cranny for any sign of him. But no matter where they looked, every description of Frederick was different, no two eyewitness accounts matching. It was maddening, but I couldn’t help but feel a reluctant admiration for his skill. He had vanished, leaving no trace, no clues to his next move.I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he had left something behind—a message, a hint, anything. The thought gnawed at me. I had grown so accustomed to the pages from my father’s journal being scattered, a cryptic reminder that Frederick was always close, always watching. He wouldn’t just vanish without a word.“Didn’t he leave a message?” I asked again, my voice strained with frustration. “I can