Chapter 138: Arielle’s Fury

Arielle got in the palace hoping to see Ruthina, because Ruthina didn’t get home last night. She had spent the whole night praying at the church as a blessing to Solkanaia, or at least that was what she had told Arielle in the brief message she had sent. The message had been short, barely a few lines scrawled in Ruthina’s hurried handwriting, and it had done nothing to ease the worry that had been gnawing at Arielle’s heart since the moment she had read it.

She had lain awake in their bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind churning with worry and a thousand unspoken fears. The palace was cold without Ruthina beside her, the bed too large, the silence too loud.

She had grown accustomed to the warmth of Ruthina’s body against hers, to the soft sound of Ruthina’s breathing in the darkness, to the way Ruthina would curl into her side and murmur sleepy nonsense against her shoulder. Without her, the room felt empty. Without her, Arielle felt incomplete.

She had tried to sleep. She had closed her eyes and counted her breaths and told herself that Ruthina was safe, that she was in the church, that she was praying, that nothing could harm her in a place of worship. But the thoughts would not quiet. They circled in her mind like hungry wolves, snapping at the edges of her consciousness, and every time she drifted toward sleep, they pulled her back.

She thought of Ruthina’s soft smile, of the way her golden eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, of the way she would press her cold hands against Arielle’s warm skin and giggle at the shock.

She thought of the way Ruthina had looked at her when they had first met, shy and uncertain, and the way she had looked at her just a few nights ago, full of love and trust and a quiet, steady devotion that made Arielle’s heart ache. She thought of all the things she had not said, all the things she should have said, all the things she would say when Ruthina came home.

And when morning came, she had risen before the sun, had gone to the kitchen, and had made breakfast with her own hands. She had made Ruthina’s favorite—sweet rice cakes with honey and crushed nuts, the way Ruthina’s mother used to make them before she passed.

She had learned the recipe months ago, had practiced it until she could make it perfectly, and she had wrapped them carefully in a wooden lunchbox, had tied it with a ribbon, and had made sure everything was perfect. She wanted Ruthina to know that she was thinking of her, that she had missed her, that she was loved. She wanted to bring her home.

The morning air was cold and sharp as she walked through the palace corridors, the winter light pale and thin through the tall windows. Frost had crept across the glass during the night, and the servants she passed bowed their heads and murmured their greetings, their breath misting in the chill.

Arielle did not stop to speak to any of them. She did not have time for pleasantries. She had one destination in mind, one person she needed to see, and she would not rest until she had found her. She walked with her cloak drawn tight around her shoulders, the wooden lunchbox clutched in her hands, and her boots echoed against the marble floor in a steady, urgent rhythm.

The palace was quiet at this hour, the corridors empty save for the occasional servant or guard, and the silence pressed in around her like a physical weight. She passed the great hall, its doors closed and its windows dark, and she passed the council chamber, where she had spent so many hours arguing with ministers and nobles and priests who thought they knew better than her.

She passed the library, where she had spent countless nights poring over old texts and forgotten laws, searching for answers to questions that no one else had thought to ask. And finally, she reached the church wing.

"Priest, is the golden rabbit inside?" Arielle asked as she went to the church wing of the imperial palace. The Solkanaia palace had their own church wing, a grand, echoing space of stained glass and marble, to ensure that whatever they needed would be inside the palace.

The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of incense and candle wax, and the only sound was the soft echo of her own footsteps on the stone floor. The stained glass windows depicted scenes from the old legends—the gods creating the world, the first dragons taking flight, the golden rabbit descending from the heavens to bless the faithful—and the colors glowed in the pale morning light, casting fractured rainbows across the marble.

It was a beautiful place, a place of peace and contemplation, and yet Arielle felt a chill run down her spine as she stepped inside.

"Yes, she is praying," the priest said, and his voice was flat, and dismissive. He was a tall man, thin and severe, with sharp eyes and a mouth that seemed permanently set in a frown.

His robes were immaculate, his hands clasped behind his back, and he regarded Arielle with an expression that was almost contemptuous. He did not bow. He did not even look at her with respect. He simply stood there, blocking her path, as though he had been waiting for her.

Arielle got worried. "Since last night? Shouldn’t she be resting by the day?" she asked, and her voice was sharp with concern. She knew Ruthina. She knew that Ruthina would push herself too hard, would pray until her knees ached and her voice gave out, would give everything she had to the gods and leave nothing for herself. It was one of the things Arielle loved about her, and one of the things that terrified her.

The priest snorted at her, a small, ugly sound that was full of disdain. "Hah, why are you meddling with the affair of the golden rabbit? She is sacred, and people like you are unworthy of her." The words were spoken with a sneer, with a curl of the lip, with a contempt that was so thick it was almost tangible.

Hearing that made Arielle speechless—not because she was dumb, but because she was taken aback by the priest’s statement. She had not expected this. She had not expected such open disrespect, such naked hatred, from a man of the cloth.

"I’m sorry, what did you say?" She tried to make him repeat it, her voice dangerously quiet. She was giving him a chance. She was giving him a warning. She wanted to believe that she had misheard, that the words had been a mistake, that he had not truly meant what he said.

"I said, stop bothering the golden rabbit. You’ll never be good for her. You can be a bad influence, and all she needs is the church." The priest answered, and Arielle was totally shocked. The words hung in the air between them, sharp and cruel, and Arielle felt something inside her snap.

The audacity of it, the sheer, breathtaking insolence, left her momentarily breathless. She had spent her whole life fighting for the rights of omegas, fighting against the old laws and the old traditions that treated them like property, and here was a priest—a man who was supposed to be a servant of the gods—daring to tell her that she was unworthy of the person she loved.

"I seem like you’re forgetting your place, Priest." Her voice was low, a growl that came from deep in her chest. She took a step forward, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and her eyes blazed with a cold, blue fury. "I am Arielle, daughter of Arthion, and I am the one who passed the law for the church’s protection. Do not merely think you are higher than me just because the golden rabbit is here. You are nothing, and the church is nothing!" She reminded him, and she made sure to slap him. The sound echoed through the church wing, sharp and sudden, and the priest stumbled back, his hand flying to his cheek, his eyes wide with shock.

"Show some respect! Or do you want me to burn this church today? I am not scared." She added, and her voice was turning from that low growl of a female alpha, who is one of the respected elves of the Arthion family.

She was not bluffing. She had the power, the authority, and the sheer, burning will to do exactly what she said. The priest opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He simply stood there, his face pale, his hand still pressed to his reddening cheek.

Then the room toward the church suddenly made a knocking noise, at first faint and weak, a soft thud against wood that was almost lost in the silence. Arielle’s head snapped toward the sound, her eyes narrowing. "Why is someone knocking inside the church door?" It caught Arielle’s attention that she approached, her footsteps quick and purposeful, but the priest tried to stop her.

"That room is sacred. You are not allowed to enter," he said, and his voice was desperate now, high and thin. He reached out as if to grab her arm, but she shook him off without even looking at him. His fingers barely brushed her sleeve before she was moving, her long strides carrying her across the marble floor toward the source of the sound.

Arielle didn’t listen. She touched the door, her fingers pressing against the old, worn wood, and she sniffed. A faint smell of an omega in heat drifted through the cracks, sweet and thick and unmistakable. Her senses heightened, her alpha instincts roaring to life, and she looked at the priest with eyes that were no longer just angry—they were deadly.

"Why is there an omega in heat in this room? Didn’t the church strictly forbid an omega in heat and an alpha in rut in the church?! Why aren’t you doing anything when there is an omega in heat?!" Arielle yelled, and the priest flinched, his face going pale, his hands trembling.

"Go back and stop minding someone else’s business!" the priest retorted, but his voice cracked on the words.

"Help~ help~" Arielle’s ears moved when they heard the sound of that familiar voice, weak and desperate, muffled by the door but unmistakable. Her heart stopped. Her blood turned to ice. "Ruthina," she breathed, and she forcefully opened the door.

"W-Wait! No! That is a sacred door! No!" the priest shouted, but Arielle used her full power to destroy the door. The wood splintered, the hinges screamed, and the door swung open with a crash that echoed through the church wing. Splinters of wood flew through the air, and the priest stumbled back, his face a mask of horror.

And to her shock, Ruthina was on the floor, crawling, with only a towel covering her body. Her golden hair was tangled and matted, her skin was slick with sweat, and her eyes were wild with fear and pain.

She was reaching for something she couldn’t reach, her fingers clawing at the stone floor, and she was sobbing, her whole body shaking. Her heat was upon her, consuming her, and she was alone, trapped, abandoned in a room that was supposed to be sacred.

"H-Help~" she called out, tears streaming down from her eyes as she begged. Her voice was hoarse, broken, barely more than a whisper. She looked up at Arielle, and there was recognition in her eyes, and relief, and a desperate, pleading hope.

Arielle was dumbfounded, and her senses were filled with Ruthina’s pheromones—thick and sweet and overwhelming, the scent of an omega in heat, the scent of her omega in distress. Her mind raced, piecing together what had happened, what the priest had done, what this sacred room had been used for.

The priest had known. The priest had locked her in here, had left her to suffer, had done nothing while she begged for help. The thought made Arielle’s blood boil, made her vision swim with red, made her want to tear the man apart with her bare hands.

"You... What have you done?" Arielle’s eyes glowed into blue fury, and she was heaving as she tried to keep herself composed and calm. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to tear him apart with her bare hands. But Ruthina needed her, and she could not afford to lose control. Not now. Not when her omega was on the floor, terrified and in pain.

She crossed the room in two strides, dropping to her knees beside Ruthina, and she gathered the trembling omega into her arms. "I’m here. I’m here, Ruthina. I’ve got you." She whispered, and her voice was shaking, but she did not let go. She held Ruthina close, wrapping her cloak around her, shielding her from the cold and from the priest’s eyes.

"Please... Please..." Ruthina sobbed, her fingers clutching at Arielle’s tunic, her face buried against Arielle’s chest. "It hurts... It hurts so much..."

"I know. I know. I’m going to take you home. I’m going to make this right." Arielle promised, and she looked up at the priest, her eyes burning with a fury that could have set the world on fire. "You will pay for this. I will make sure of it." She said, and her voice was cold, absolute, a vow that she intended to keep.