Chapter Four

The road into Valmere gave way to a worn path that became more refined the further one traveled into it. The ground beneath the horses’ hooves smoothed, not polished, but maintained. The trees lined either side of the path, spaced evenly, branches arching overhead in a way that filtered the sunlight into a soft, shifting pattern rather than blocking in entirely. Warmth lingered in the air. The smell of greenery wafted through the air with a subtly floral aroma.

The grass stretched evenly along the roadside, untouched by neglect but never overgrown. Low shrubs and quiet bursts of color lined the edges in careful intervals, but still felt as if they were placed that way naturally. Even the wind seemed to move differently, slipping through the trees without disrupting them.

“This is nothing like the Citadel,” Elias said after a while, his gaze shifting between the land and the walls beginning to rise in the distance.

“A lot of the human territories are nothing like the Citadel,” Rowan gave a small explanation.

“Well, it’s lacking,” Elias gave a light laugh.

Fenrir remained silent, his focus fixed ahead.

The walls rose in pale stone, tall enough to mark its boundary but lacked the sharp edges or looming threat meant to intimidate.

Guards stood before the gates, unmoving until the three riders drew close enough to require acknowledgement.

“State your purpose in Valmere,” one of the guards said.

Fenrir didn’t slow, “We’ve already sent word ahead of time. We are expected.”

“That will require confirmation,” the guard replied evenly.

Fenrir held his gaze, something quiet and unyielding settling into the space between them. Rowan shifted slightly beside him, but said nothing, while Elias simply watched, interest flickering across his expression.

“Then confirm it,” Fenrir said.

The guard inclined his head and turned, signaling toward the gate. Movement stirred beyond it, unseen but immediate.

After a brief moment of waiting, the gates began to open.

The sound was low and steady, stone moving against stone. Light slipped through first, cutting across the ground between them before widening into a full view of the city.

As the opening grew, a figure stepped forward. He moved with quiet authority, his posture straight, his presence unmistakable without needing to be announced. His uniform marks his rank clearly, though it was his composure that held attention.

“Prince Fenrir,” he said as he approached, “You’ve arrived.”

Fenrir studied him, “And you are?”

“Captain Henry Beaumont,” he replied, “I will be escorting you to the palace.”

Elias leaned slightly in his saddle, curiosity evident. “So, you’re the one we were waiting for.”

Henry’s gaze shifted briefly to him. “Among other things.”

“That doesn’t really answer anything,” Elias said lightly.

“It answers enough,” Henry replied, just as calm.

Fenrir watched him for another moment before giving a short nod. “Then lead.”

Henry stepped aside, gesturing toward the open gates.

“After you.”

**

The city unfolded around them in quiet beauty.

Stone pathways stretched ahead, clean and evenly laid, curving naturally through the space rather than forcing rigid lines. Buildings rose in soft, warm tones, each one distinct yet harmonious with the next. Greenery wove through everything. Trees, flowers planted along the streets, and carefully maintained patches of color that felt integrated rather than decorative.

People noticed the riders, but their attention did not linger. Conversations continued. Movement remained steady. Nothing in the rhythm of the city shifted to accommodate their presence.

Fenrir’s gaze tracked it all.

Henry rode slightly ahead, guiding them through the city without looking back, though it was clear he was aware of everything around him.

Elias urged his horse forward just enough to draw closer. “So, is it always this quiet?” he asked. “Everything seems so simple and boring?”

Henry’s expression didn’t change. “Valmere was created to be a peaceful place.”

“But why? There should be some excitement.” Elias said.

“Being peaceful does not mean there is a lack of excitement,” Henry explained.

Elias considered that. “I hardly doubt there is anything exciting here?”

Henry glanced at him briefly. “That is your opinion.”

**

The palace rose at the center of the city. Its structure mirrored everything they had seen so far.

They dismounted as they reached the steps, servants already moving forward with quiet efficiency to take the horses. There was no rush, no scrambling, no unnecessary movement. Everything was done smoothly, as if every action had already been anticipated.

Henry led them inside without hesitation.

The transition from outside to within was seamless; the same sense of calm control carried into the halls. The floors were polished stone, reflecting soft light from above, while the walls held subtle detail rather than overwhelming decoration. Servants moved through the space with quiet precision, acknowledging Henry with slight inclinations of their heads as he passed, but never breaking their rhythm.

Fenrir noticed that.

They respected him.

“This way,” Henry said, guiding them through a series of corridors before stopping at a set of doors.

He opened them himself.

“I was instructed to escort you here. You will need to wait here until someone comes to meet with you,” he said.

Fenrir’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. “Who?”

Henry met his gaze evenly. “Someone will be with you momentarily.”

Elias let out a quiet breath. “You really don’t give anything away, do you?”

Henry didn’t respond.

He stepped back.

And left them there.

**

The room was quiet once the doors closed behind them.

Large, but not overwhelming, it carried the same balance as everything else within Valmere. Tall windows allowed natural light to spill into the space, softening the edges of the room without washing it out completely. The furnishings were minimal. Soft decorations were placed around the room but not overly done.

Fenrir remained standing for a moment before finally moving further into the room, his gaze shifting as he took in the details.

“It doesn’t seem like they are very welcoming of us,” Eliad said quietly.

“They have a right to be wary of us. It has been a long time since we’ve had a reason to meet with the humans,” Rowan explained.

Fenrir’s expression didn’t change. “They’ve yet to treat me like the prince I am.”

Rowan looked at him, “They may not treat you the way you are used to, but they haven’t been discourteous towards us. Yet.”

“We are in a different territory and seems slightly informal. Considering how fast we came, and how little of notice we gave,” Elias explained, for once, being rational in an answer.

“I don’t like it,” Fenrir said.

A soft knock interrupted their conversation.

“Princess Aurelia Valmere,” a servant announced, opening the door.

They held the door open for Aurelia as she stepped through, maintaining a bow until Lyra cleared the opening of the doorway. Stepping out and closing it.

Aurelia’s gaze moved across the room immediately, taking in each of them before settling.

“I was expecting the King of the Iron Citadel to be here as he was mentioned in the letter,” Aurelia paused for a moment, “As well as a female companion.”

Fenrir met her gaze. “Plans changed.”

“I have gathered that.”

Aurelia gave Fenrir a subtle once-over, “My father has entrusted me with your stay here. The servants will show you to the rooms we have prepared for each of you. You will have the chance to speak with the King and Queen at dinner. After that we may speak on the matter that brought you all here.”

Rowan inclined his head slightly, “We appreciate the reception.”

Aurelia acknowledged it.

A knock interrupted the moment.

“My apologies for the interruption,” he said. “There is someone at the gate claiming to be with this party.”

Aurelia’s gaze shifted slightly. “Bring them here.”

“Yes, your highness,” Henry bowed and left the room.

“I have a feeling I know who it is,” Elias whispered to Rowan.

Aurelia remained composed as she could hear him whisper.

Moments later, the door opened again.

Valeria stepped in, escorted in by Henry.

“I swear I have never been treated this way. I was stopped like I was a simple commoner,” she said, her irritation was clear.

Her gaze landed on Fenrir first, then shifted.

And stopped on Aurelia.

A brief pause followed.

Something unspoken passed between them.

Then Valeria exhaled sharply. “Honestly, the lack of…”

“She’s with us,” Fenrir said, cutting her off before she could continue.

Aurelia’s gaze moved between them once before she gave a small nod.

“She will be taken care of as well,” she said simply.

Valeria blinked, clearly expecting more.

“Please have the servants clean up another room for our other guest,” Aurelia spoke to Lyra over her shoulder.

“Yes, your highness,” Lyra replied opening the door, but remained holding it, waiting for Aurelia to leave.

“I will send a servant to escort you to the rooms shortly; for now you can remain here. I will see you all at dinner,” Aurelia said as she turned to leave. Lyra closed the door behind both of them.

**

The room felt different the moment the door closed behind Aurelia and Lyra.

Valeria was the first to move.

She turned fully toward Fenrir, still carrying the edge of the annoyance she had entered with, though it had changed shape now. It was no longer aimed only at the guards, the gates, or even the kingdom itself. There was something more personal beneath it, something rawer.

“I cannot believe they stopped me at the gate like that,” she said. “As if I would arrive here on my own for no reason. As if I had to prove I belonged with you.”

Elias glanced toward the closed door before looking back at her. “To be fair, you did arrive on your own.”

Valeria shot him a look. “That isn’t the point.”

“No,” Elias said lightly, “but it is true.”

She let out a breath through her nose, sharp and irritated, then looked back at Fenrir, clearly expecting something more useful from him. “Are you really going to stand there and say nothing?”

Fenrir had not moved far from where he’d been standing when Aurelia entered, though his attention had shifted more than once since then. The mark beneath his shirt still burned in quiet waves, enough to keep part of his focus anchored elsewhere, no matter how still he looked.

“I’m thinking,” he said.

Valeria folded her arms. “About what?”

“About whether you intended to make an entrance at the gate or if that’s simply what happens when you’re denied for five minutes.”

Elias looked away just quickly enough to hide the start of a smile.

Valeria stared at Fenrir in disbelief. “That’s funny to you?”

“It’s predictable,” he replied.

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

Rowan, who had remained silent up to that point, finally turned toward her. There was no amusement in his expression, no patience either. If anything, the restraint in him made his displeasure more obvious.

“You were told not to come.”

Valeria straightened slightly, the shift immediate and instinctive, as if she had been expecting that line the moment the room quieted enough for it. “And yet here I am.”

“That is not the triumph you seem to think it is.”

Her chin lifted. “No, it’s the reality of the situation. I wasn’t going to stay behind.”

“You were ordered to.”

“I’m aware.”

Rowan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then you knowingly ignored the King.”

Valeria’s expression hardened. “I ignored a bad decision.”

“It wasn’t yours to make.”

“No,” she shot back, “but it involved me. Or has everyone suddenly decided that what happened in the audience hall no longer matters?”

No one answered her immediately.

That silence did not help.

“She spoke about me in front of the entire court,” Valeria continued, her voice tightening. “She said I was carrying his child, and then all of you turned that into an inconvenience instead of understanding what it means.”

“It means nothing yet,” Rowan said.

Valeria’s eyes flashed. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“It’s accurate,” Rowan replied.

“It’s dismissive,” she shot back.

“It’s cautious,” Rowan said, unmoved.

She let out a humorless laugh. “Of course it is.”

Rowan stepped closer, just enough for the space between them to narrow without becoming threatening. “You are not here because caution failed. You are here because you chose yourself over instruction, timing, and reason.”

Valeria stared at him. “You really do think the worst of me.”

“No,” Rowan said calmly. “I think exactly what you’ve shown me.”

That landed harder than she liked.

Fenrir could see it in the way her posture changed, only slightly, but enough. Valeria was many things, but she was not used to being spoken to plainly unless the other person intended to flatter her or fight with her. Rowan did neither. He simply stated what he believed and let it stand.

She turned back to Fenrir almost immediately, as if he were the only person in the room whose response still mattered enough to shift anything. “And you?”

Fenrir’s gaze met hers.

“What about me?”

“Are you just going to let him stand there and talk to me like I’m some problem you have to manage?”

Elias leaned back slightly against the edge of a nearby table, his attention moving between them with quiet interest. He didn’t interrupt. Not yet.

Fenrir studied Valeria for a moment before answering. “You made yourself a problem the moment you ignored the order to stay.”

For once, she looked genuinely caught off guard.

Not deeply.

Not enough to quiet her for long.

But enough.

“So, you’re angry with me too,” she said.

Fenrir’s expression didn’t change. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m angry.”

Valeria searched his face for something there, some softness, some shift, some indication that he was about to take her side in the way she wanted him to.

He didn’t.

That seemed to frustrate her more than Rowan’s criticism had.

“I came here because everyone was already acting as if I didn’t matter,” she said, her voice lower now, though no less sharp. “Because no one in that room was willing to say plainly what it would mean if she was right.”

“She,” Elias repeated. “You still don’t know what she was.”

Valeria turned toward him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” he replied. “I’m pointing out that one woman walked into the Citadel, marked Fenrir, threw half the court into chaos, said you were pregnant, and disappeared. Forgive the rest of us for not wanting to reorganize the world around her word before we know what it means.”

Valeria stared at him a second longer, then looked away first.

That was answer enough.

“She knew,” Valeria said quietly.

This time, no one mocked the certainty in her voice.

No one dismissed it.

“She looked at me like she knew.”

Fenrir’s gaze shifted slightly at that.

That, more than anything else she had said since entering the room, felt true in a way he hadn’t let himself think too hard about yet. He remembered it too well. The turn of the woman’s gaze. The precision in her tone. The way she had spoken was as if the outcome had already been decided long before any of them understood the shape of it.

“She may have,” Rowan said at last.

Valeria looked back at him immediately. “And yet you’re still standing there acting like I’ve done something outrageous.”

“You did do something outrageous,” Rowan replied. “Whether she was right or not has nothing to do with the fact that you disobeyed a direct order and crossed into another kingdom without permission, notice, or protection.”

Valeria’s mouth tightened. “I wasn’t unprotected.”

“That isn’t the same as protected.”

Before she could answer, Elias spoke again, his tone lighter than the others, though the point beneath it remained. “You also arrived exactly the way anyone trying to create a scene would arrive.”

“I did not create a scene.”

“You complained at the gate.”

“I was mistreated at the gate.”

Elias looked unconvinced. “You were stopped and asked to wait.”

“That is mistreatment.”

“Only to you.”

Valeria looked ready to snap back again, but Fenrir spoke first.

“They were expecting you anyway.”

The room shifted slightly at that.

Even Rowan looked at him.

Valeria’s expression changed first. “What?”

Fenrir finally pushed himself away from where he’d been standing, though the movement remained slow, measured. “The letter said the King was coming. It mentioned a companion. They were expecting someone with us.”

“But not me,” Valeria said.

“No,” Fenrir replied. “Not specifically.”

Her brow tightened. “That isn’t the same thing.”

“It’s enough.”

“For you, maybe.”

He held her gaze. “It should be.”

Valeria went quiet for a moment, though not because she agreed. He could see the argument still moving behind her eyes, still searching for the angle that would turn this in her favor. But part of her, the part not ruled entirely by wounded pride, knew what he meant.

She had not arrived to a kingdom unprepared for her existence.

She had arrived inconveniently.

There was a difference.

That didn’t mean she liked it.

Rowan’s tone remained cool. “They expected the shape of an arrival. Not the reality of what you chose to do.”

Valeria turned to him again, exasperation returning. “Do you ever stop speaking as if you enjoy making everything sound worse?”

“No,” Rowan said.

Elias let out a quiet laugh before he could stop himself.

Valeria looked at him next. “And you’re finding all of this entertaining.”

“I’m finding it predictable,” he said. “That’s different.”

She exhaled sharply and turned away from all of them, pacing only a few steps before stopping again. The room was too composed, too orderly, too controlled for the kind of dramatic movement she would have made anywhere else. Even here, Valmere was shaping behavior simply by refusing to break around it.

When she turned back, her expression had changed again. It wasn’t softer. It wasn’t apologetic.

It was more contained.

“I’m here now,” she said. “Whether any of you like it or not.”

“That much is obvious,” Rowan replied.

“And I’m not leaving.”

No one challenged that directly.

Not because they had accepted it.

Because there was no point.

Fenrir could already feel that part of the matter settling into place. Valeria had reached Valmere. She had been let inside. Aurelia had ordered her accommodation. Whatever argument followed now would not be about sending her back. It would be about enduring what her presence would inevitably complicate.

He was too tired for that conversation.

Too aware of the mark burning beneath his skin and the fact that this kingdom, this room, this meeting, all of it had only just begun.

“You’re staying,” he said at last.

Valeria looked at him immediately.

“But you do it quietly.”

Her expression tightened. “Quietly.”

“Yes.”

“That sounds suspiciously like another order.”

“It is.”

She held his gaze for a moment, perhaps expecting the edge of challenge to change his tone. It didn’t.

At last, she looked away and let out a breath, frustrated but not willing to push harder, not yet.

“Fine,” she said. “For now.”

Elias glanced toward Rowan. “That’s the closest thing to agreement we’re getting, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Rowan replied.