chapter seventy three

The news arrived like a viper's strike, cold and venomous. A whisper, barely audible at first, slithered through the castle corridors before coiling tightly around my heart. Damian. My Damian. He was to fight alongside his father, against the very people I held dear, the White Wolves.

Fury, sharp and acrid, rose in my throat, choking back the sob that threatened to escape. How could he? After everything we'd shared, the whispered secrets under the cloak of night, the dreams woven under a canopy of stars – all betrayed for a twisted sense of loyalty?

Later that day, a restless energy thrummed through the castle walls sneaking through the hidden path way's Alexander had shown me once before. I found myself lingering by Damian's chambers, the heavy oak door a barrier between us that felt far thicker than mere wood. Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a face etched with worry, a stark contrast to the usual carefree smile that greeted me.