Chapter 74: The Busy Hands of Fate

Keep out or die.

The words were scrawled in thick, aggressive black paint across the center of the door.

Blair shot a wary, wide-eyed glance toward the older beastwoman. Clarice only offered a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Oh, do not worry about that," Clarice sighed. "This is just my daughter’s room."

Clarice held up her hand. With a soft snikt, a sharp, curved claw extended from her index finger. She casually slid it into the keyhole, wiggling it with practiced ease to work the lock.

As she did, Blair finally got a proper look at her. Swaying gently from beneath the hem of Clarice’s elegant skirt was a long, fluffy, dark blue wolf tail.

Blair blinked. Daemus doesn’t have a tail in his beastman form. She wondered if keeping a tail was something only female wolves did, or if Daemus just chose to hide his.

While Clarice continued to pick the lock, Blair let her gaze wander down the wide hallway. The walls were lined with large, ornate family portraits, cementing the deduction she had made earlier: she was definitely inside Daemus’s house, likely miles away from the academy as wolves typically lived in the mountains. The bedroom she had just woken up in was merely a few doors down.

She shifted her weight, trying not to put too much pressure on her injured ankle. A soothing warmth radiated through the soles of her bare feet. Heated floors.

Blair stepped closer to the wall, inspecting the framed photos. There were pictures of a toddler who was undeniably Daemus, a stern-looking man who had to be his father, and a little blue-haired girl.

But as her eyes drifted to the next frame, they widened in shock.

It was a picture of the family, but standing beside the stern-faced king was a man with sharp features and blood-red eyes. Toddler Daemus was standing by his leg, while Clarice held a baby wrapped in a blanket.

"Jack is Daemus’s godfather," Clarice commented casually, the door lock finally clicking open. She pulled the claw back, turning to look at Blair. "Is he one of your professors at the academy?"

"Y-Yes," Blair stuttered out, tearing her eyes away from the photo. "He is my history professor."

"Jack is a long-time friend of my husband," Clarice explained, pushing the bedroom door open and ushering Blair inside.

Blair stepped in as Clarice flicked the light switch. The moment the overhead bulbs lit up the room, a shiver ran straight up Blair’s spine.

Posters, tapestries, and hundreds of printed photographs completely covered the walls. Every single one of them featured the same flawless face, silver hair and purple eyes. It was Crown Prince Killian. But none of the pictures looked like official portraits; they were candid shots: Killian reading a book, Killian walking down a path, Killian drinking coffee...all taken from bizarre angles as if the photographer had been hiding in the bushes.

Clarice let out an amused chuckle, walking past the Killian shrine and opening her daughter’s closet.

"My daughter has had a huge crush on the Crown Prince ever since they were kids," Clarice explained lightly, pulling out a handful of hangers. "I am still waiting for her to grow out of it. But she will, eventually, when she comes of age and the Moon Goddess chooses her mate."

"How do you know?" Blair asked quietly. "How do they know when someone is their fated mate?"

Clarice hummed thoughtfully, carrying a large pile of fabric over to Luna’s bed and laying the dresses out across the duvet.

"The simplest way I can put it, dear, is love at first sight," Clarice told her softly, smoothing out a wrinkle in a silk gown. "It is an immediate attraction. An easy compatibility. It feels exactly like finding a missing part of yourself, and you just know, because suddenly you feel complete. Fate brings you together. It forces you to meet."

Clarice paused, turning her silver eyes to Blair with a knowing, gentle smile. "You felt it when you met Daemus, didn’t you?"

Blair swallowed hard. She didn’t want to raise any suspicion by answering too quickly, especially since she was unfamiliar with the mate bond stuff.

"I’m... still trying to understand it," Blair chose to respond carefully, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Clarice’s smile softened even more. "I was exactly the same at your age. It was something I grew up learning about, but when I finally did meet my husband for the first time, it was something I still did not understand right away."

Clarice looked down at the dresses, her eyes glazing over with a fond, nostalgic warmth. "I wanted to see him all the time. I thought about him twenty-four-seven, to the point I honestly thought I was going to go crazy. I craved his touch, his attention. All of that comes on gradually, and it fades just a bit with time, but it mostly remains."

Blair listened, captivated. It sounded intense, overwhelming, and undeniably romantic. As Clarice spoke so fondly of her husband and their bond, a knot of guilt twisted in Blair’s stomach. She felt terrible for faking something so sacred and beautiful with Daemus just to stay alive.

But alongside the guilt came a realization. Fate brings you together, Clarice had said.

If fate always forced fated mates to meet, then eventually, Daemus’s real fated mate was going to appear. The universe would demand it. And when she did, Daemus would have to leave Blair for her.

Blair blinked, staring at the floor. Why am I even worried about the rut thing, then? she thought.

"Look at me, chattering away," Clarice chuckled, snapping Blair out of her thoughts. "Our guests will be arriving very soon. Which dress do you like?"

Blair stepped closer to the bed, looking down at the garments. They were, without a doubt, the nicest dresses she had ever laid eyes on in her entire life. They were all modern, high-end designer evening gowns. There was a sleek, emerald-green silk dress with an asymmetrical cut, a deep sapphire velvet gown with a plunging neckline, and a glittering black number that looked like it cost more than the church she grew up in.

She tentatively reached out, running her fingertips across the smooth silk. "They are very beautiful."

"I think this one will fit you very well," Clarice said, picking up a garment from the end of the bed and offering it to Blair.

It was a gorgeous, ankle-length dress made of incredibly soft white sheep wool. It had an elegant, off-the-shoulder neckline with long sleeves. Delicate, soft puffs lined the chest area, the cuffs of the sleeves, and the very bottom of the hem, making it look like a dress pulled straight out of a winter fairy tale.

"You’ll be warm in this," Clarice noted, pressing the soft fabric into Blair’s arms. "It is a bit chilly up here in the mountains for a human."

Blair didn’t feel the least bit chilly. She assumed it was because the floors were keeping her warm, but she accepted the dress anyway with a polite nod of thanks.

Clarice pointed toward a door across the room. "The bathroom is right through there."

Blair carried the puffy white dress across the bedroom, avoiding the gaze of the Killian posters, and pushed the bathroom door open. She stepped inside, flipping the light switch on.

She lifted her head to look in the vanity mirror above the sink.

The wool dress slipped right through her fingers, pooling onto the bathroom tiles with a quiet thump.

Blair stared at her reflection, her jaw dropping open in horror and panic.