Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Chapter 51

The letter arrived at dawn, borne by a royal courier wearing the crimson and gold of the King’s personal guard.

The man was young but stern-faced, his uniform immaculate despite the long journey from the capital. He carried the letter in a sealed tube embossed with the royal crest a wolf with a crown, its jaws open in a silent howl. When he handed it to the Proctor’s assistant, he did so with the gravity of a man delivering a declaration of war.

Proctor Vesper Kane received it in his office, his hands steady as he broke the seal, though something inside him had already begun to splinter. He had been expecting this. Dreading this. The King had been sending representatives to the annual talent showcase for years a distant uncle, a trusted advisor, once even the captain of the royal guard. Never the King himself. Never the Queen.

He unfolded the parchment. The handwriting was elegant, precise, unmistakably royal.

To Proctor Vesper Kane, Warden of Shadowmoon Academy,

It has been too long since I last set foot within the halls of your esteemed institution. My son has spent years under your tutelage, and by all accounts, he has flourished. I find myself longing to see his progress with my own eyes.

Therefore, I am pleased to inform you that I, King Aldric Thornridge, Sovereign of the Seven Packs and Protector of the Realm, will attend this year’s talent showcase in person. Her Majesty the Queen has also expressed interest in accompanying me, though her attendance remains unconfirmed. Regardless, you may expect either my presence or that of a very high-ranking representative of the Crown.

I trust that the academy will uphold its reputation for excellence and that the showcase will be a demonstration of the strength and skill that has made Shadowmoon the premier training ground for the realm’s finest wolves.

I look forward to seeing you, the students, and most importantly, my beloved son.

With warm regards,

King Aldric Thornridge

Kane read the letter twice. Then a third time. His hands, which had been steady moments before, began to tremble.

The King was coming. The King the most feared Alpha in the entire kingdom, the ruler of the Seven Packs, the man whose very name could silence a room was coming to the academy. And his son, his precious Lycan heir, the first in centuries, was missing in a cursed forest.

"Aldus," he called, his voice hoarse and cracking.

His assistant appeared in the doorway almost instantly, as if he had been waiting just outside. "Sir?"

"The King is attending the showcase. Personally. Not a representative. Not an advisor. The King himself. And possibly the Queen."

Aldus’s face went pale. All the color drained from it in the space of a heartbeat. "Sir, that’s—"

"I know what it is." Kane crumpled the letter in his fist, then smoothed it out again, as if the action could undo the words written upon it. "We have one month. One month to find Soren, prepare the showcase, and pretend that everything is perfectly fine. If we fail—if Soren is still missing when his father arrives—"

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The consequences were unthinkable. The academy would be shut down. The staff would be dismissed in disgrace—or worse. And Kane himself would have to look the King in the eye and explain why his only son had been lost in a forest full of rogues.

"The Queen will chop my head off," Kane muttered, pressing his fingers to his temples. "She’ll do it personally. With a smile on her face. She dotes on that boy like he’s the sun and moon combined. If she finds out—"

"Perhaps she won’t attend," Aldus offered weakly. "The letter says her attendance is unconfirmed."

"Perhaps. But the King is confirmed. And the King is enough." Kane rose from his chair and walked to the window. The rain was still falling, a gray curtain that blurred the towers and the courtyard and the distant treeline of the Mistwood. "We need to find Soren. Whatever it takes. Whoever we have to send. We need to find him before his father arrives."

"And the showcase preparations, sir?"

Kane laughed a hollow, humorless sound. "The showcase can burn for all I care. But yes. We need to prepare. We need banners and schedules and seating arrangements and a concept that will impress the most powerful Alpha in the realm. We need everything to look perfect, even if everything is falling apart." He turned back to Aldus. "Summon the board. We need to discuss our next steps."

"Yes, Proctor."

Aldus left, and Kane was alone with the crumpled letter and the weight of a kingdom pressing down on his shoulders.

Valeria had made a decision.

She had spent three days in a haze of fear and frustration and the kind of helplessness that ate at her soul like acid. She had paced the length of her office so many times she was certain she’d worn a groove into the stone floor. She had stood at her window watching the rain streak down the glass, her reflection a ghost in the dark pane. She had touched herself in the shower thinking of Soren’s hands and Soren’s mouth and the way he had never once looked at her the way she wanted him to.

She had let the fear consume her.

No more.

She dressed with purpose, dark trousers, a fitted black tunic reinforced with leather at the shoulders, her hair pulled back in a severe braid that made her look younger and harder at the same time. Her crossbow hung at her hip, freshly oiled and loaded. Her boots were laced tight. A dagger was sheathed at her thigh. She looked like a woman going to war.

And in a way, she was.

Lila stirred in her mind, surprised by the sudden shift in her human’s demeanor. What are you doing?

"What I should have done from the beginning." Valeria’s voice was steady, resolved. "I’m going to find him."

The Proctor won’t allow it. He’s already refused Corvin and Ragnar. He’s confined them to the academy under guard.

"Then I’ll make him allow it."

How?

"I don’t know yet. But I’m not taking no for an answer."

She strode through the corridors with the confidence of a woman who had spent years commanding respect in a world that didn’t want to give it to her. Students pressed themselves against the walls as she passed. Even the guards at the senior wing straightened and nodded as she went by. She didn’t acknowledge them. Her focus was absolute.

When she reached the Proctor’s door, she didn’t knock. She pushed it open and stepped inside.

Kane looked up from his desk. His eyes were red-rimmed, shadowed with exhaustion. His robes were rumpled, and a half-empty glass of amber liquid sat beside his hand—something she had never seen before. The Proctor did not drink during the day. The Proctor did not show weakness. And yet here he was, doing both.

"Valeria." His voice was flat. "This is not a good time."

"It’s the only time." She stood before him, her spine straight, her chin lifted. She did not sit. She did not ask permission. "I want to lead a search party. The deepest part of the western sector the area no one has searched yet. That’s where they are. I know it."

"We’ve searched the western sector. Multiple teams. They found nothing."

"Not deep enough. The earthquake changed the terrain. The maps are useless—you said so yourself. But I’ve studied the Mistwood for years. I know its patterns, its hidden paths, its streams and ravines. I can find them when no one else can."

Kane studied her for a long moment. His gaze was sharp despite his exhaustion. "Why you? Why should I send you when I’ve already got four teams out there and two of my best students under house arrest for trying the same thing?"

"Because I’m the reason they were separated in the first place." Her voice didn’t waver. She had rehearsed this. She had known he would ask. "I was the instructor in charge of Team Alpha. I made the call to leave them behind. I told myself it was the right decision that we needed to get back to the academy and organize a proper search. But the truth is, I could have stayed. I could have found another way across that chasm. I could have done more."

"Valeria—"

"And if Soren dies in that forest because I didn’t go back for him, I will carry that guilt for the rest of my life. I will never forgive myself. Every full moon, every quiet moment, every time I close my eyes—I’ll see his face on the other side of that chasm, and I’ll know I left him there." She took a step closer, her dark eyes blazing. "Please. Let me bring him home."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and taut as a drawn bowstring.

Kane looked at her—really looked at her—and something in his expression shifted. Perhaps he saw the desperation she was trying so hard to hide. Perhaps he recognized a kindred spirit, someone else who was haunted by the choices they’d made. Perhaps he was simply too tired to argue.

"Take a team," he said finally. "The best we have. Leave at first light."

Relief crashed over her like a wave. "Thank you, Proctor."

"Don’t thank me." He turned back to his desk, his shoulders slumping. "Just find them. Bring them back alive. Both of them."

"I will."

She turned and walked out of the office before he could change his mind.

Corvin was losing his mind.

Three days of house arrest. Three days of guards outside his door and guards outside his window and guards everywhere he turned. Three days of knowing Nyra was out there, possibly hurt, possibly dying, while he sat in this room and did absolutely nothing.

The guards outside his door were rotated every six hours. He had memorized their faces, their names, their weaknesses. The younger one—a Beta named Petyr with a nervous stutter and a fiancée back homenwas the easier target. He had a kind heart and a guilty conscience, and Corvin had spent the past two days systematically exploiting both.

"Petyr," he called through the door, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. "Come here for a moment. I want to make you another offer."

The door cracked open. Petyr’s face appeared in the gap, wary but curious. "Sir, I told you. I can’t let you leave. The Proctor’s orders are absolute."

"I’m not asking you to let me leave. I’m asking you to listen." Corvin sat on the edge of his bed, his posture relaxed, his expression open and trustworthy. It was the same expression he wore when negotiating with rival students, with difficult instructors, with anyone who needed to be persuaded. "I know about your fiancée. Elena, isn’t it? You’ve been saving for a wedding. Working extra shifts. It must be difficult, trying to afford a proper ceremony on a guard’s salary."

Petyr’s expression flickered. "How do you know about Elena?"

"I make it my business to know things. It’s a useful skill." Corvin leaned forward. "I have money, Petyr. A substantial amount. Enough to pay for a wedding ten times over. And I’m willing to give it to you—all of it—in exchange for one small favor."

"I can’t—"

"Not escape. I’m not asking you to let me escape. I’m asking you to deliver a message for me. To the search parties. A simple message. That’s all."

Petyr hesitated. Corvin could see the war playing out behind his eyes duty versus desire, fear versus temptation.

"What kind of message?" Petyr asked finally.

"Tell them to search the western sector. The deepest part. Near the old stone ruins that pre-date the academy. Tell them to look for smoke, for fire, for any sign of habitation. And tell them—" He paused, his voice dropping. "Tell them that Thorne Astrlyn is not who they think he is. Tell them that if they find him, they must protect him at all costs. He’s more important than they know."

Petyr stared at him. "I don’t understand."

"You don’t need to understand. You just need to deliver the message."

Another long pause. Then Petyr nodded slowly. "I’ll... I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t promise anything."

"That’s all I ask."

Petyr closed the door, and Corvin was alone again. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Please, he thought, not sure if he was praying to the Moon Goddess or to Nyra herself. Please be alive. Please hold on. I’m coming for you. One way or another, I’m coming for you.