Chapter 080. His Court

The bed looked entirely too intimate for a room this small.

Saeris stared at it like it might lunge forward and swallow her whole. One mattress. One pillow. A blanket folded too neatly.

‘I can sleep on the floor’, she'd blurted earlier. So stupid. She winced. Had she actually said that? She’d sounded like a trembling virgin who’d never shared a space with a male before. Which, technically…wasn’t that far off.

She wanted to slam her head into the wall and maybe just… stay there. Rather, she crossed the room, arms folded tightly, more aware than she wanted to be of the sound of his jacket sliding off his shoulders.

"Shouldn’t be long," he said idly, draping his coat over a chair. "Kaan will finish with the carriage. We won’t be here long.”

She glanced at the bed again.

“You made it seem like we would be at the counter.”

Vaelen shoved open the window. A gust of cold rain-laced wind blew through, lifting strands of her hair. She shivered.

“Money buys silence. The innkeeper won’t question what she thinks happens here.”

That earned him a flat look. “Right. Of course.”

Vaelen didn’t so much as flinch as he sat on the sill. Too casual, like they were friends rather than… whatever they were.

“So,” she said, arms wrapping tighter around herself, “are you going to tell me who they were? And the territory we are in?”

Lightning lit up the window, sharp and sudden, and for a heartbeat, she saw the edge to his jaw, the almost cruel curve to his mouth.

“I’m sure even you know the North is divided. Four Lycan courts, not counting the rogue territory we’re in now. This stretch belongs to Ragnar.”

Her brows drew together. “So he sent them?”

Vaelen let out a low laugh. “Even Ragnar isn’t that stupid.”

“Then who?”

He tapped a finger lazily against the frame. “A couple of them, I believe.”

The purple liquid. Whatever it had done to their bodies—to their minds—had been more than unnatural. So she tucked the thought away, alongside her questions about why they were after him, knowing she’d find her answer eventually.

She exhaled hard and dropped onto the edge of the bed. “How long until we reach your territory?”

"Before first light. Assuming no more... interruptions."

Her gaze drifted, just for a moment, to the way his hand tapped against his thigh. Long elegant things. Like they knew how to draw blood and pleasure in equal measure.

Don’t look at him.

Too late.

His eyes snapped to hers. Caught her. Held her. And then—slowly—that knowing smile. “See something you like?”

Her throat tightened. She forced her mouth into a flat line. “I was looking at the blood. Wondering how many you've killed with those hands.”

The smile didn’t waver. “More than I can count.” He said it like it didn’t matter. “Most of them deserved it.”

Most. Not all.

Her stomach twisted. She should ask. About the Mating Night. About the men in her pack who’d never come back.

His fingers stilled suddenly. “That’s an interesting piece.”

“What?”

He nodded to her hand. “The ring.”

Saeris glanced down at the silver band snug around her finger, a single moonstone inlaid at the center…the only piece of her mother she had left. If not for the photos, she might have forgotten her face entirely. But even those images failed to capture what she truly sought. The ring, though…, it did. Ever since she first slid it onto her finger, she'd absently stroked it.

“It was my mother’s,” she said quietly. “My father gave it to me when I left.”

Vaelen moved then—off the sill and toward her in three long strides. “May I?” He extended a hand expectantly.

She hesitated. But still, she let him touch it.

His fingers wrapped around hers, larger and warmer and rougher than she’d expected. A calloused thumb brushed over her knuckle, then over the stone, slow and oddly reverent.

Her breath trembled. And she dared not look up.

Vaelen withdrew. “Thorold will want to see this when we arrive.”

“Who’s Thorold?”

“The scholar. He’ll be working on your wolf’s restoration.”

Restoration.

“You didn’t mention a scholar before.”

“I didn’t mention a lot of things.” His voice was quieter now, more dangerous in its edge. “You didn’t actually think I’d be the one fixing your wolf, did you?”

“I didn’t,” she lied.

He hummed again and then turned for his coat.

“Stay here.”

“Where are you—”

“Stay.” The command left no room for argument. “Unless you want to be soaked through.”

“I’ll pass.”

He was already at the door. “Don’t leave this room.”

And then he was gone.

Minutes stretched. The rain got worse, then lessened, then stopped altogether. Still, Vaelen didn’t return. She paced, counted the knots in the wood, and considered slipping out. The knock came the moment her fingers touched the door.

She froze.

Another knock, sharper.

She opened the door and it wasn’t Vaelen. But a woman instead. Her age—no, slightly older. Tall, brown skin smooth and sharp-edged, white short hair, a gleaming silver hoop in her nose. Her eyes were obsidian—hard, cold, reflective. Like she’d already judged Saeris and found her lacking.

“You’re Saeris,” she said. Not a question.

Saeris stepped back instinctively. “How do you know my name?”

That got a sigh like this was all mildly annoying. “So he didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Typical.” She muttered a curse, low and probably in a language Saeris didn’t know. “I’m here to take you to his court, wolf girl.”

“Where’s Vaelen?”

Those eyes swept past Saeris’s shoulder toward the room behind her. “Indisposed,” she said flatly. “You’ll be coming with me.”

Saeris didn’t move. “And why, exactly, should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t." She shrugged, completely unbothered. "But I’m the only choice you have right now."

Annoyingly, she may have a point.

“Look," she went on, tone edged with impatience. "My job is to get you to the court in one piece, and preferably without a headache. You can question him all you want once you’re there. For now, you come with me, or you can stay here and take your chances with whoever shows up next."

Saeris hesitated, pulse flaring.

But the truth settled in her bones before she could argue.

She didn’t know the terrain. Didn’t know who else might be coming. And this woman… whoever she was… somehow already knew her name. So she followed.

They didn’t speak. Not for the hours it took. By the time the pack came into view, the sky had lightened to the deep blue that preceded dawn. Saeris’s breath caught at the sight, not a packhouse in the traditional sense, but an imposing structure built into the side of a mountain.

"Welcome to the Lycan Court, Tenebrous,” the woman said, the first words she'd spoken in hours.

"Not a pack?”

"Court," she corrected sharply. "We're not wolves. And packs are for small settlements, this isn't.”

Fair enough, given what she was looking at.

They didn’t enter through the front. Instead, the woman slipped through a side passage—winding, narrow, deliberately avoiding the large open courtyard. Not once did they cross another soul.

She didn’t ask why.

Finally, they stopped at a polished bronze-gold wooden door. The woman pushed it open.

The room was warm. Spacious. And utterly… breathtaking. A four-poster bed draped in deep burgundy. Windows that stretched toward the wild northern expanse.

“Is this Vaelen’s room?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“No.”

Shame crept up Saeris’s neck. Why had she even asked?

“The room is yours, but you're not to leave until he comes for you." Her tone was serious, edged with something that made it clear disobedience wasn’t an option. "That was his order, and trust me, it’s for your own good.”

“Why’s that?”

"Did you really think the Lycan King is the only pureblood here?”

Saeris went still. They’ll sniff her, her lies, and all. That had been the reason they avoided the main route.

The woman groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Of course, he told you nothing." She muttered something under her breath again, then turned to face Saeris once more. "You may have come here as the Lycan King’s mate…” Her eyes narrowed. “But that doesn’t mean the rest of this court will accept a wolf in that role. Not easily. And that’s not the only problem.”

Saeris didn’t ask what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Vaelen will come for you when he returns.”

Her heart did that stupid stutter it shouldn’t have.

Sun-kissed hand reached for the handle, but paused, her gaze softening just slightly—not kind, just… less cold. “Stay put,” she said. “For your own safety.”

Saeris didn’t respond.

“I’d say rest.” She opened the door fully now, ready to leave. “You’ll need your strength for the day.”