Chapter 107

Chapter 107: Chapter 107

"I’m sorry. What do you mean by what you just said?"

The King’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. His sharp eyes were fixed on the trembling student, his expression hovering somewhere between confusion and the first stirrings of fury. The light still blazed on Nyra, pinning her in place like a butterfly on a board.

"It’s exactly as I said, Your Majesty." The student’s voice cracked, but he pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I swear on my life that it’s the truth. She’s been hiding here for months, pretending to be someone she’s not. You can confirm it—she’s right there, looking at us."

Every head in the hall turned toward Nyra.

She stood frozen in the center of that terrible light, her face pale as death, her silver eyes wide with shock. Every emotion she had ever learned to suppress was playing out across her features—fear, disbelief, the slow, creeping horror of a nightmare made real. Her hands trembled at her sides. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat.

Soren went rigid where he stood. His hand, which had been resting on the arm of his ceremonial chair, clenched into a fist. He looked at Nyra—his mate, his love, the woman he had sworn to protect and saw the terror in her eyes. Every instinct screamed at him to move, to fight, to tear apart whoever had done this to her. But he was frozen. Frozen by the knowledge that whatever he did next could make everything infinitely worse.

Corvin was already on his feet beside her, his hand gripping hers with fierce protectiveness. His whiskey-dark eyes swept the hall, cataloguing threats, calculating escape routes, preparing for the worst. He didn’t know who had orchestrated this, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he would not let them take her.

In the student section, Finn Harlan’s face had gone pale. He stared at Nyra with an expression of dawning, horrified comprehension.

"Thorne," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thorne, tell them it’s a lie. Tell them it’s not true."

Marek stood beside him, his usual stoic composure cracked. "Thorne. Say something."

"Stop it." Finn turned on Marek, his voice rising. "What are you saying? That Thorne is not a man? What do you mean, Marek? We’ve lived with him for months now, and you’re suddenly believing what a random stranger we’ve never seen until now is saying? Is that the level of trust you have for her? I’m highly disappointed in you." He spun toward Jasper. "Isn’t that right, Jasper?"

Jasper didn’t answer.

The look on his face the quiet resignation, the complete lack of surprise—stopped Finn dead in his tracks.

"Jasper?" Finn’s voice cracked. "You knew? You knew, and you didn’t tell us?"

Jasper met his eyes. "It wasn’t my secret to tell."

Finn shook his head, backing away. "No. No, this isn’t—this can’t be—"

They all turned to look at Nyra.

Her eyes were filled with tears. One slipped down her cheek, then another. She looked at her friends—her roommates, her pack, the people who had stood by her through everything and saw the confusion and hurt and disbelief written across their faces.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I’m so sorry."

The light shifted away from her face, but the damage was already done.

"Thorne Astrlyn." Proctor Kane’s voice rang out across the silent hall. He was standing now, his iron-gray hair disheveled, his expression a mask of barely controlled shock. "Can you make your way to the stage?"

Nyra looked at Corvin. He was shaking his head, his grip on her hand tightening. Don’t go, his eyes said. Don’t give them what they want.

She looked at her friends. Finn was still shaking his head in denial. Marek had gone very still. Jasper’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that looked almost like an apology.

She looked at Soren. He was coiled like a spring, ready to launch himself across the hall at the first sign of danger. His dark eyes blazed with protective fury. She could see him calculating, planning, preparing to burn the world down for her.

She shook her head at him. Don’t. The gesture was small, almost imperceptible, but he saw it. His expression cracked with anguish.

"Thorne Astrlyn." The Proctor’s voice came again, harder this time. "We are waiting for you. Please make your way to the stage."

Nyra gently removed her hand from Corvin’s grip. "It’s alright," she said quietly, though it wasn’t. "I’ll be alright."

"Nyra—"

"Trust me."

She began to walk.

The crowd parted before her like water before a blade. Whispers followed her every step confused, accusatory, curious. She kept her eyes forward, her chin lifted, her shoulders straight. She was still Thorne Astrlyn, even if Thorne Astrlyn was a lie. She would face whatever came next with dignity.

When she reached the stage, she bowed formally to the King and the assembled elders. Then she straightened and met her uncle’s eyes. Lord Varek’s expression was perfectly blank—the face of a man who had been expecting this and was carefully concealing his satisfaction.

He knew, Nyra thought. He must have known. He probably orchestrated this.

Nyra, you don’t have to do this, Luna said urgently in her mind. I will protect us if they try anything foolish. I won’t let them hurt you.

It’s fine. Nyra blocked her out. She couldn’t afford distractions now.

"Explain yourself," Proctor Kane commanded, his voice tight with the effort of maintaining control. "Confirm or deny what this student has said. Are you truly hiding under your brother’s identity?"

Nyra looked at the student who had accused her. He immediately looked away, his fear genuine—whether of her or of whoever had put him up to this, she couldn’t tell. She searched her memory for his face, but nothing came. He was a stranger. A pawn. A weapon aimed at her heart.

She turned back to the Proctor. She looked at the King, whose expression was darkening with every passing moment. She looked at the Queen, whose eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that was difficult to read. She looked at Selene, who was smiling with cold, glittering triumph.

"It’s true," Nyra said.

The hall erupted.

Voices rose in shock and outrage and disbelief. Students turned to each other with wide eyes. Dignitaries muttered behind raised hands. The Silvermoon girls exchanged knowing glances. The Shadowmoon students the ones who had trained alongside her, fought alongside her, called her friend—stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.

Soren was on his feet before the echoes of her confession had faded. He moved toward her, his expression fierce, his body a shield waiting to be placed between her and danger.

Selene caught his hand. "What do you think you’re doing, Soren? Walk up and protect her in front of the whole realm? In front of the elders? In front of your father? Who do you think will be in more trouble?"

Soren turned back to her. The look in his eyes made Selene’s grip falter. It was the look of the Ice Wolf—the cold, merciless predator she had heard stories about but never truly seen.

"I will do whatever I want without anyone stopping me," he said, his voice low and deadly. "And if I find out that you have a hand in this, Selene—" He paused, and his lips curved into a smile that was more terrifying than any scowl. "Trust me when I say you won’t like the outcome. You will hate me."

He tore his hand from her grip and strode toward the stage.

Corvin was already moving, pushing through the crowd, his eyes fixed on Nyra with fierce determination. The two Alphas converged on her from opposite sides—the wolf and the serpent, united in their need to protect their mate.

"Thorne, no. Don’t do this." Soren reached her first. He grabbed her hand, his grip warm and desperate. "You don’t have to confess anything. We can fight this. Whatever happens, I’ll protect you."

The King leaned forward on his throne, his brow furrowed, his sharp eyes tracking his son’s every movement. The Queen was very still, her expression unreadable, her mind clearly racing through possibilities.

Corvin reached them a moment later. "Stop this, Thorne. We’ll protect you. Whatever it takes."

Soren turned on the student who had started it all. His hand went to his sword, and the student stumbled backward, his face white with terror. "Tell me who sent you. Who put you up to this? Who threatened you?"

"Soren Thornridge!" The King’s voice thundered through the hall, silencing every whisper, every murmur, every breath. He rose from his throne, and the full weight of his authority crashed down on the room like a physical force. "What the hell do you think you are doing? Defending an intruder right in front of me? In front of the entire realm?"

"No, Father. I can’t do that." Soren’s voice was steady, but there was a tremor beneath it—not of fear, but of barely contained fury. "I won’t."

The King’s eyes blazed. "You forget yourself, boy. You forget who you are. You forget who I am."

"I forget nothing." Soren’s hand tightened on Nyra’s. "But I made a promise. And I intend to keep it."

Nyra was crying openly now. The tears she had been holding back for so long streamed down her cheeks, and she didn’t try to stop them. Everything was falling apart exactly as she had feared it would. The secret. The exposure. The confrontation. All of it, crashing down around her.

"Soren, please." She looked up at him, her silver eyes pleading. "Listen to your father. Go back. Don’t make this worse than it already is."

His expression softened as he looked at her. "I promised to protect you. I can’t leave you now. Not when you’re in danger."

"Guards!" The King’s command cracked through the air. "Seize the intruder!"

The guards surged forward. Soren drew his sword in a single, fluid motion, the blade gleaming in the lantern light. Corvin followed suit, positioning himself at Nyra’s other side.

"You’ll have to go through me," Soren said, his voice cold as winter steel.

"And me," Corvin added.

The King stared at them—his son, the heir to his throne, pointing a sword at his own guards. Lord Eldritch’s son, the brightest mind of his generation, doing the same. He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Only fury. Only disbelief.

"Is that so?" The King’s voice was dangerously quiet. He turned his gaze toward the Astrlyn delegation, where Lord Varek sat with the elders of the pack. "You all conspired to fool the entire realm. Is that what happened? Before I even go deeper into these questions—" His voice rose to a thunderous roar. "Where is Thorne? Where is the real Prince Thorne?"

The hall went absolutely silent.

Nyra stood at the center of the storm, Soren’s hand in hers, Corvin at her side, her uncle watching with cold satisfaction, her friends staring in disbelief, the King demanding answers she didn’t know how to give.

And for one terrible, endless moment, no one spoke.