All Chapters of The Lycan king's Bride : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The night of the feast arrived with an air of anticipation so thick it could be cut with a blade. The grand hall of Moonveil Keep was adorned in flickering candlelight, gold-trimmed banners, and tables overflowing with decadent dishes. The nobles were dressed in their finest silks and jewels, their laughter forced, their smiles edged with suspicion. Lillian stood at the head of the long banquet table, her gown a striking shade of midnight blue, embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like the stars. Aedric stood to her right, dressed in a dark tunic with gold accents—regal, imposing, conspicuous. He was the bait, after all. Cassian leaned against a pillar near the entrance, his keen gaze sweeping over the crowd, searching for any sign of treachery. Somewhere in this room, the traitor lurked, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Lillian raised her goblet, the room falling into hushed silence. “Tonight, we feast not only to celebrate our victory but to look forward—to

The forest was no longer silent. The wind carried whispers—no, not whispers. Murmurs of something unnatural.Lillian’s fingers curled into fists. Her pulse hammered against her ribs as cloaked figures emerged from the darkness. One by one, until they formed a half-circle around her, Aedric, and Cassian. Their faces were hidden beneath their hoods, but their presence reeked of something ancient, tainted. Selene stood in the center, her smirk widening. “You always thought you were the hunter, Lillian,” she purred, stepping forward. “But tell me, how does it feel to be the prey?” Aedric let out a deep, guttural growl, his massive Lycan form radiating power. Cassian’s sword gleamed under the moonlight, his stance ready for blood. But Lillian didn’t move. She studied. She calculated.Selene’s confidence wasn’t misplaced—not entirely. This wasn’t a reckless ambush. The cloaked figures weren’t ordinary mercenaries.Then, she felt it. The sharp pull of magic. Dark magic. A shadow-wield

The journey to the Temple of the Moon was swift but tense. Cassian rode beside Lillian, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened treetops, while six heavily armed Lycans flanked them.The deeper they traveled into the sacred lands, the more uneasy Lillian felt.The temple was ancient—older than the Lycan kingdom itself—and built upon the ruins of something even more mysterious. The air hummed with old magic, the kind that made her skin prickle. As they approached, the towering stone entrance loomed before them. Two priestesses in silver robes waited at the gate, their faces shadowed beneath their hoods. Lillian dismounted and stepped forward. “I need to see the High Priestess.” One of the robed figures lifted her head. Bright silver eyes met hers. “She’s been expecting you.” Inside the TempleThe halls of the temple were lined with flickering torches, their flames unnaturally still. The scent of burning incense filled the air, mingling with something darker—old blood. Lillian and C

The weight of Aedric’s words settled over the room like a storm cloud. The Royal Court. Lillian clenched her hands at her sides. The nobles had always been treacherous, but the idea that one of them had a hand in breaking the seal—that they had knowingly put the kingdom at risk—was a different kind of treason. Cassian’s golden eyes gleamed with fury. “We need names.” Aedric turned to Elaria. “You said the seal was tampered with before Selene’s death. Did she have accomplices?” Elaria folded her arms, deep in thought. “If she did, they were careful. But there were always whispers of alliances in the shadows. Nobles who resented the Lycan rule. Those who wished to restore the old ways.” Lillian’s throat tightened. “The old ways?” Aedric’s voice was grim. “The age of the Blood Courts.” Silence. Cassian cursed. “You’re saying there are nobles who want to bring back the monsters who once ruled these lands?” Elaria’s face was unreadable. “Not just any nobles. Descendants of the o

The air inside the throne room was suffocating. Tension coiled tight, like a bowstring ready to snap. The nobles who had been summoned the night before now stood before the throne again, uneasy and wary. They had heard of Valcairn’s disappearance. They knew what this meant. Aedric sat upon the throne, his expression carved from cold, unyielding stone. Cassian stood at his right, hands clasped behind his back, eyes gleaming with predatory sharpness. Lillian stood at Aedric’s left, her own gaze sweeping the gathered lords and ladies, watching for even the smallest sign of weakness. Someone here was guilty. Someone had helped Valcairn. Someone had known. Aedric let the silence stretch before he finally spoke. “Last night, Valcairn was taken from my dungeons.” The words sent a ripple through the gathered nobles. Some flinched. Others stayed too still. Aedric leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. “Which means one of you made it happen.” Silence. Then Lord Athren cleared his t