Chapter 126

Chapter 126: Chapter 126

He turned and fled into the forest, the moonlight guiding his path.

The maid he had nearly bitten stood frozen against the wall, trembling uncontrollably. Small drops of blood trickled down her neck where his fangs had grazed her. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. She could only stare at the dark trees where the creature had disappeared.

The second maid returned moments later with two guards. They found the first maid still frozen, still trembling, still bleeding.

"What happened?" one of the guards demanded. "Where is he?"

The maid opened her mouth, but no words came out. She just shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Take her to the King," the guard ordered. "He needs to know about this. Now."

Millbrook was exactly as the map had described a small, weathered village on the edge of the eastern territories. Ragnar, Finn, Marek, Jasper, and Roderic arrived just as the sun was setting, their bodies aching from a full day of walking.

"Finally," Finn groaned. "Civilization. Or whatever passes for civilization out here."

They booked two rooms at a modest inn not the same one where Nyra and Corvin were staying, but similar in its humble accommodations. Ragnar and Finn took one room; Marek, Jasper, and Roderic took the other.

After washing up and eating a quick meal, Ragnar and Finn stepped outside for some air. The night was cool and clear, the half-moon casting silver light across the village rooftops.

They stood in silence for a while, looking at the stars. Then Ragnar spoke.

"I am scared, Finn."

Finn turned to look at him. "Scared of what?"

"Of everything. Of never finding Nyra. Of never proving her innocence. Of Soren being gone forever." Ragnar’s voice cracked. "He was my brother. My best friend. And I couldn’t protect him."

"You couldn’t have stopped that arrow."

"I know. But I still feel like I failed him." Ragnar’s scarred face was wet with tears. "And now Nyra is out there, alone, hunted by her own uncle. And I can’t, I can not lose her too. I can not lose anyone else."

Finn reached up and cupped Ragnar’s face in his hands. "You’re not going to lose anyone else. We’re going to find Nyra. We’re going to clear her name. And we’re going to make Varek pay for what he did. Together."

He kissed Ragnar soft at first, then deeper, his lips moving with a tenderness that belied his usual brashness. Ragnar kissed him back, his hands gripping Finn’s waist, pulling him closer.

When they finally broke apart, Finn rested his forehead against Ragnar’s. "I love you," he said quietly. "And I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, whatever we face I’m with you."

Ragnar pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. They stood like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, looking at the moonlight.

The inn where Selene and Valeria had taken a room was on the opposite side of the village from where Nyra and Corvin were staying. They had arrived shortly after Ragnar’s group, booking a single room to avoid drawing attention.

"One bed," Valeria observed, looking at the room’s furnishings. "We will have to share."

"I will take the floor."

"Do not be ridiculous. We are both adults. We can share a bed without it being awkward."

Selene raised an eyebrow. "Fine. But stay on your side."

They ate their meal in silence, then prepared for bed. Selene lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, but sleep would not come. After a while, she rose and walked to the window, looking out at the moon and stars.

Her mind drifted back. Back to the beginning. Back to when she was fifteen years old, and her father had told her she was to be betrothed to the crown prince.

She had not wanted it at first. She had wanted to live her own life, make her own choices, forge her own destiny. But her mother had said it was an honor that out of all the eligible girls in the realm, she was the only one deemed worthy of the crown prince. It would bring glory to their pack. It would elevate their family for generations.

She still disagreed, refusing the offer saying there are a lot of responsibilities that comes with it and she doesn’t think she’s ready to face it at that young age.

Her mother still insisted, trying to convince her to change her mind and accept the offer.

After weeks of thinking, she had finally agreed.

The betrothal ceremony had been small, held in the palace with only close family and advisors present. She had worn a gown of pale gold, and she had been nervous actually nervous, for the first time in her life. When Soren had approached her, she had expected... she didn’t know what she had expected. Warmth, perhaps. Curiosity. Something.

Instead, he had been stone cold. His dark eyes had regarded her with complete indifference.

"Play your role well as the future queen," he had said. "And do not trespass on matters that do not concern you."

That was it. Those were the only words he spoke to her that day.

She had been surprised. Hurt, even. But she had also been determined. If he wanted a queen worthy of the crown, she would become one. She threw herself into her training, combat, strategy, diplomacy, etiquette. She excelled at Silvermoon Academy. She became the best. And still, Soren remained distant.

They met only at formal events. Diplomatic dinners. Royal ceremonies. He was always polite. Always cold. She knew he was hiding his true identity that the world thought he was merely a noble’s son, not the crown prince but even in private, he never warmed to her.

She didn’t love him. She didn’t even like him. He was a stepping stone to the throne and power, nothing more.

Until the night of the showcase.

Until that kiss.

She had orchestrated it. She had threatened him, blackmailed him, forced him to comply. She had expected it to be mechanical. Cold. A transaction.

But when he had cupped her face in his hands when his dark eyes had gazed at her with that impossible tenderness when his lips had met hers with a passion she hadn’t expected.

The ice around her heart had shattered.

She had seen him differently after that. Not as a political arrangement. Not as a stepping stone. But as a man. A man who was capable of love just not for her.

And now he was dead. Taken from her by a silver-haired witch who had stolen everything.

Selene’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. I will find you, Nyra Astrlyn, she thought. And I will make you pay.

The King’s meeting chamber was lit by a single candelabra when the guards escorted the two maids inside.

Queen Seraphina sat beside her husband, her hand resting on his arm. It was late nearly bedtime and she had been looking forward to a quiet evening. But the commotion outside had drawn their attention.

"What is the meaning of this?" the King demanded. "Why are these maids here at this hour?"

One of the guards stepped forward. "Your Majesty, these women claim to have seen something in the garden. Something... disturbing."

The King’s sharp eyes turned to the maids. "Speak."

The maid who had been attacked the one with the small wounds on her neck stepped forward on trembling legs. Her face was pale. Her hands were shaking. She opened her mouth, but no words came out at first.

"We saw—we saw—" She swallowed hard. "We saw Prince Soren."

The Queen rose from her chair so fast it toppled backward.

"You saw who?"

Two hours after Corvin finally closed his eyes to sleep, he opened them suddenly.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t say what it was a sound, a shift in the air, a prickle at the back of his neck but every instinct he had developed over months of protecting Nyra screamed at him that danger was close. Too close.

He sat up slowly, his hand already reaching for the dagger on the nightstand. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight through the window. Everything was still. Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Beside him, Nyra stirred. She had always been a light sleeper the nightmares made sure of that and the sudden absence of his warmth had woken her. She turned over, her silver eyes blinking in the darkness.

"Corvin?" Her voice was thick with sleep. "What’s going on?"

He didn’t answer immediately. He was listening. Straining his ears for any sound that might confirm his suspicions.

There. A faint creak of floorboards in the corridor outside. The soft whisper of voices. The metallic scrape of a sword being drawn from its sheath.

Nyra was fully awake now. She sat up, her hand going to her own dagger on the nightstand. "Corvin, what is it?"

He turned to her, his whiskey-dark eyes grim.

"We’re under attack."