Chapter 36

The moonlight dappled the stone path as Aedric stood alone in the palace garden, hands clasped behind his back, the night air cool against his skin. The hush of leaves, stirred by a gentle breeze, did nothing to quiet the storm in his mind.

Araya.

Her name rose unbidden, heavy with memory and longing and regret. He'd spent years locking that door in his heart. Yet now, everything had shifted, shattered with the truth about Liam. His son. His blood. And she had never told him.

But why?

He clenched his jaw and looked up at the moon, trying to rein in the frustration. He couldn't blame her, he treated her like she was nothing. She must have been so scared without him.

He considered informing Maravelle. But he didn't trust her. Not anymore. Not after what Corin had told him, that his beloved aunt had a hand in setting Lara up. But to Aedric, it was a dagger cloaked in velvet.

If Maravelle had truly tried to frame the girl... what else had she done? Did she do something to Araya, and how would she react if she learned Liam bore Aedric's blood? He didn't dare underestimate her. Not with the way she played her games, always shifting pieces. He should know, he was her hand.

Aedric sighed heavily and leaned against the cold marble rail.

He wasn't ready to tell Maravelle. Not yet. Not until he could shield Liam from the storm that would follow. First, he had to speak to Araya. Face her. Hear the truth from her lips. And then... then he'd decide what came next.

Aedric didn't hear Rell approach until her voice chirped behind him.

"Well, well. You've been avoiding me since we arrived, princeling."

She stepped up beside him with a crooked grin, her dark braid swinging over one shoulder. "What are you doing skulking in the garden like a brooding statue?"

Aedric arched a brow. "Thinking. Something I doubt you've ever tried."

Rell gasped in mock outrage. "Rude! I'll have you know I'm very good at thinking. I just don't overdo it like some people."

She jabbed him in the ribs and sauntered past him, stepping up onto a smooth patch of stone that glistened faintly with dew.

"Careful..." he started.

Too late. Rell's boot slid, and she yelped, flailing for balance. Aedric lunged forward to catch her, only to slip on the same patch himself. The world tilted, arms flailed, and the next thing he knew, he landed with a thud... Right on top of her.

Their faces were inches apart, her back pressed to the cold stone, his hands braced beside her head. Her eyes widened slightly, breath caught between a laugh and a curse.

"If you wanted me beneath you, princeling," she said sweetly, "you could've just asked."

Aedric groaned, half in pain, half in embarrassment, and rolled off her.

"I'm never helping you again," he muttered.

"Promise?" she teased, sitting up and brushing grass from her sleeve. "That was the most fun I've had all day."

He gave her a dark look, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little. That was all it took. Both of them broke into laughter, loud and unguarded, echoing through the quiet garden.

The laughter faded, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves above them and the slow chirp of nighttime insects. Rell stretched out on the grass with a sigh, hands tucked beneath her head, boots crossed at the ankles. Aedric remained seated beside her, arms resting loosely on his knees.

She fished out a small silver flask from inside her coat, tossed it to him with a wink. "Confiscated from the banquet table. You're welcome."

He unscrewed the cap, took a swig, coughed once, and handed it back. "That's stronger than I expected."

Rell grinned. "You're welcome again."

They passed it between them in silence for a while. The stars were scattered across the sky, and the garden's lanterns had dimmed to glowing embers. The night felt hushed, unhurried.

"You know," Rell said, a little too casually, eyes fixed on the stars above, "you're not as awful as I thought."

Aedric glanced at her, lips quirking. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes steady even though her cheeks were a little red.

"Don't get used to it," she said.

Then, before either of them could think twice, she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't dramatic or rushed just a quiet moment where her lips touched his, soft and sure. For a second, he didn't move. Then he kissed her back, gently, meeting her halfway. When she pulled back, she blinked once, then twice, like she couldn't believe she'd done it.

Aedric cleared his throat, looking somewhere decidedly not at her. "So... that happened."

Rell sat up, snatching the flask again. "Yup."

He finally looked at her, a faint smirk breaking through. "Careful. That felt a lot like you like me. Or was that just the contraband liquor?"

"You'll never know, princeling."

They sat in silence again, this time warmer. Softer. Like the air had shifted just slightly.

Aedric tilted his head back toward the sky. "Still not telling you what I was thinking about."

Rell grinned into her flask. "Didn't ask, princeling."

But he noticed the way she sat a little closer now. And for the first time in a while, the storm in his chest quieted just a little.

....

Back in the castle, Dorian walked quickly through the hallway, confused but alert. A messenger had come to him, saying the king needed him right away. The message had Thornak's seal, so he didn't question it.

When he entered the war room, Thornak looked up, surprised.

"I didn't send for you," the king said, his voice hard.

Dorian frowned. "But I got a message, with your seal."

Thornak went still. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He turned and strode out of the war room without another word. Dorian followed, his heart starting to race.

They reached Lara's chambers. Thornak threw the door open.

The room was empty.

Her bed was empty. The fire had almost gone out. The window was open, and the wind moved the curtains gently.

She was gone.

Thornak's eyes flashed gold, his voice a low growl that shook the walls. "Seal the castle. Now. Find her."

The palace was chaos.

Boots pounded over marble. Shouts rang through the corridors. Doors were flung open, scrolls scattered, stone walls echoed with the sound of orders barked.

And above it all, a roar.

A sound no one in Vargorath had ever heard before. It was the sound of the Lycan king losing control, because someone had dared to take his mate.

The great doors of the east wing exploded inward, splinters flying as Jax surged through them. His golden eyes was streaked with dark rage, his claws like swords, his eyes burning coals of fury.

The castle shook with every step he took.

"FIND HER!"

His voice wasn't a voice, it was a command that scraped the soul.

"Bring me every servant, every rat, every whisperer who so much as looked at her or I'll bring this entire keep down on your heads!"

Guards scrambled, nearly falling over themselves. The bravest barely dared to go near him.

....

Meanwhile, Kael was in Lara's chambers, the only soul Thornak trusted to step foot in there. The air still held her lavender.

Kael crouched, sweeping his hand under the mattress, feeling nothing but dust and linen, until his fingers brushed fabric not belonging. He pulled it free.

A pale scrap of velvet, bound with silver thread and looped with symbols that shimmered when touched. It buzzed faintly against his palm, like a fly trapped under glass.

He held it to the light. "What the..."

He didn't know what it was, but he knew that it was important.

He tucked it into his coat and strode out. Thornak will know someone who will know this filth.

....

Ruvan and Dain were both shadow and storm, dragging servants by the collar, baring their fangs. "Who saw her last? Who touched her door? Speak now, or I'll burn your lies out of your throat."

Servants cried, pleaded, stammered. One man who faltered on his answer was hauled away in chains before he could blink.

Meanwhile in the halls, it wasn't Thornak who prowled now. It was Jax, rage incarnate, no longer prince or king or even man.

Doors slammed shut ahead of him. Even the bravest guards backed into shadows. They all knew what it meant when Jax took control.

He thundered through the corridor, a storm of fury on four legs. Chandeliers rattled overhead. Doors slammed in his wake. The guards near the tower stairs didn't move. They didn't dare. Not when the beast was loose.

He stood at the base of the stairwell, scenting the air, eyes narrowed to slits.

No scent.

How is that even possible. Thornak said, Lara walked through here an hour ago.

There was only emptiness where her essence should have lingered. Jax turned and stalked down the hall, the walls vibrating with the weight of his fury.

Dain and Ruvan caught up with him, dragging two battered guards between them. Dorian trailed behind, his jaw set, eyes hard.

Jax changed to his half Lycan form.

"They were hiding in the north tower," Dain said coldly, shoving one to his knees. "Behind the siege crates. Looked like they meant to wait out the chaos."

"They have something to say," Ruvan added grimly.

The guards were white-faced, trembling, blood on one's lip from where Ruvan had clearly lost patience.

Thornak stepped forward, and the room dropped into silence as he changed into his half Lycan form.

"If you don't tell me what you know," he growled, voice low and dangerous, "I will rip through you. I will start with your bones, and I won't stop until I've torn the truth out of someone's throat."

The first guard let out a choked noise, eyes wild.

"We... we were told to deliver a message..."

"A letter," the second interrupted, desperate. "It bore the royal seal."

"To whom?" Dain demanded.

"Dorian," the first guard said, nearly sobbing. "We were told he needed to be called away from his post."

Ruvan bared his teeth. "Who gave you the letter?"

"Lady Orla," one finally gasped. "Lady Orla Virelle gave it to us."

Dain's brows shot up. "The

Chamberlain's sister?"

"She said it was urgent. That the king needed Dorian immediately. She had your seal."

A blur of black fur, glowing eyes, and monstrous power struck like lightning. One guard barely had time to scream before Thornak's claws tore into his chest, ripping through bone and flesh like parchment. Blood sprayed in an arc across the stones.

The second turned to run, a foolish and hopeless move as Thornak's claw caught him mid-stride, dragging him back by the spine. He flung the man into a column with a sickening crack, then stalked forward with murder in his eyes.

But this time, the Lycan King didn't strike. He crouched low instead, claws glinting, the raw scent of death heavy in the air. His voice was calm now, too calm.

"Where," he asked, each word like a blade, "is my mate?"