Chapter Six

The corridor did not feel the same once Aurelia left it. The corridor was silent. Fenrir remained where he stood for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze lingering toward the direction she had disappeared, as if there was something in that absence that he had not yet fully understood. It was not curiosity in the way Elias carried it, open and unfiltered, nor was it suspicion, though there was enough here to warrant it. It was something quieter, something that did not yet have a name, and because of that, it stayed with him longer than it should have.

“She didn’t even hesitate to speak to an Alpha’s daughter like that,” Elias said after a moment, his voice cutting gently through the silence without disrupting it.

Fenrir didn’t look at him. “No… She didn’t.”

Elias pushed himself fully upright, no longer leaning against the wall, his attention still directed toward the space Aurelia had occupied. “Most people would have,” he continued. “Walking into a room like that, with all of us already in it.”

“She wasn’t walking into us,” Rowan replied, his tone steady, grounded in something far less speculative. “She was walking into her own home.”

After a moment, Rowan sighed, “You shouldn’t have come. You have been here for only a few minutes, and you’re already creating issues.”

Valeria scoffed, “I am only stating what I see. This room was not meant for someone of my status.” She crossed her arms, a silent tantrum hiding under the surface.

Rowan ran his hand through his hair with another sigh, “Your status and the nature of your room is of little importance. We are here to get answers, not to accommodate your ever need as if you are back home.”

Valerias mouth had opened as she was about to speak, but Fenrir interrupted, “Go get settled.  We’re not here for anything other than getting answers.”

Elias huffed a quiet laugh. “You might not be.”

Rowan didn’t comment, though the glance he gave Elias suggested he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Valeria hadn’t moved.

“They’re replacing the room,” she said at last, her tone attempting to recover its earlier edge, though it did not land the same way.

Fenrir’s attention shifted to her, steady, unbothered. “Then let them.”

That was all.

No further acknowledgment, no expansion on it, no engagement beyond what was necessary.

Valeria’s expression tightened slightly. “That’s it?”

“It’s handled.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is,” Rowan replied, his voice calm but firmer now, cutting through before the tension could build again. “We didn’t come here for comfort.”

Valeria turned toward him, irritation flaring more visibly this time. “You weren’t even meant to come,” she said. “You decided after the fact.”

“And you came anyway,” Elias added, not sharply, but with enough truth behind it that it did not need to be.

For a moment, she looked between them, as if weighing whether to push further or pull back, and though the frustration remained, it no longer held the same footing it had before. “I’m not the problem here.”

“No,” Rowan said evenly, “you’re just making one.”

The words did not rise, did not press, but they landed with a clarity that left little room to argue without escalating further.

Fenrir stepped forward then, not to challenge, but to end it. “Enough.”

There was nothing raised in his tone, nothing forceful in the delivery, and yet it carried in a way that settled the moment immediately, drawing a line that did not need to be reinforced.

Valeria held his gaze for a fraction longer than necessary, something unreadable passing through her expression before she turned away, stepping back into her room and closing the door behind her, the sound quieter this time, though the tension did not leave with it.

The corridor fell still again.

Elias exhaled slowly, his attention drifting once more toward the hall before shifting back. “She’s not going to let that go,” he said.

“No,” Rowan replied. “She won’t.”

Fenrir did not respond.

**

The corridor gradually emptied as each of them retreated into their assigned rooms, the earlier tension not entirely gone, but no longer pressing at the surface the way it had before. The doors closed one by one, leaving behind a quieter kind of stillness, the kind that came after something unresolved rather than settled.

Fenrir stepped inside his room and let the door fall shut behind him, the soft click echoing just enough to mark the separation.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

His gaze moved slowly across the space, taking it in without urgency, without expression, though there was a shift in his posture that suggested he had already noticed more than he needed to.

The room was clean. That was the first thing that stood out.

Not in the way of polished perfection, but in a way that felt intentional without being excessive. The bed had been made with precision, the linens smooth, unwrinkled, tucked neatly into place without any decorative layering. A single dark throw rested across the end, more practical than ornamental. The furniture was carved from pale wood, sturdy rather than intricate, each piece placed with enough space between them to keep the room open without feeling empty.

A low table sat near the window, already set with a pitcher of water and a single glass, untouched. The curtains had been pulled just enough to soften the sunlight filtering in, casting a muted warmth across the floor instead of letting it flood the space entirely.

It wasn’t lacking.

But it wasn’t… anything more.

Fenrir stepped further in, his boots quiet against the stone as he moved toward the window. His hand brushed briefly along the edge of the table, testing nothing in particular, just… there.

This wasn’t how rooms were usually prepared for him.

There was no excess, no attempt to anticipate preference, no effort made to impress before he even had the chance to step inside. It felt less like a space meant to receive someone of his position and more like one that had been prepared with the assumption that whoever entered it would simply use it for what it was.

His jaw tightened slightly, though there was no other outward sign of the thought as it passed.

It wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t right either.

Fenrir exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting back toward the room once more before he turned away from the window. If it bothered him, it didn’t show beyond that brief moment, the feeling settling somewhere beneath the surface where it wouldn’t interfere with anything that actually mattered.

**

A few doors down, Elias had already made himself at home in a way that felt far more natural to him than it did to the others.

His room wasn’t much different from Fenrir’s, though the light hit it differently, stretching further across the floor where the curtains had been left more open. He had already shrugged off his outer layer, tossing it across the chair without much thought before moving toward the window.

He leaned slightly against the frame, looking out over the land beyond the castle walls, the quiet hum of the place settling around him in a way he didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s not what I expected,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

There was no complaint in it.

Just observation.

**

Rowan’s room carried the same structure as the others, simple in its design, and carefully arranged. He didn’t need the space to be anything other than what it was, a room. His mind was set on only finding answers.

His attention moved past the details almost immediately, not out of dismissal, but because none of it held any real weight to him. The space could have been grand or bare; it would not have changed anything.

They weren’t here for comfort.

They weren’t here long enough for it to matter.

He had settled in the space with ease as he set his things down on a chair near the door. He walked toward the couch that was placed with the intention of not filling up too much of the space. He sat for a moment, closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

“Why does everything have to be complicated with those two?” he asked himself in a hushed tone.

**

Valeria’s frustration hadn’t left her.

If anything, the quiet had given it more space to settle.

She stood near the center of her room, her arms crossed tightly as her gaze moved over the same details she had already dismissed, though this time there was less immediate reaction and more lingering irritation. The room was no different from the others; she knew that much without needing to see them, and somehow that made it worse.

There was nothing here that reflected her.

Nothing that suggested she had been expected.

The bed was too simple. The fabrics too plain. The space too… neutral. It felt like a place meant for someone passing through. Not someone as important as an Alpha’s daughter.

Her fingers tightened slightly against her arm before she turned away from it, moving toward the window as if distance alone would change the impression it left behind.

It didn’t.

**

As the light outside softened and stretched lower across the horizon, the palace shifted with it, not in noise or urgency, but in quiet preparation. The corridors carried a different kind of movement now, more purposeful, though no less controlled. Servants passed more frequently, their hands occupied with small details that suggested something larger had already been set in motion long before any of it became visible.

A soft knock came to each of their doors in turn, measured and precise, followed by a quiet announcement that dinner had been prepared.

Fenrir stepped out first.

He had changed, though not excessively, his appearance still aligned with what he was rather than what the setting might have called for. There was no need to overcompensate for a place that had made no effort to impress him. His gaze moved briefly down the corridor as the others began to emerge as well, Rowan composed as always, Elias more observant than before, and Valeria…

Her appearance had shifted entirely from earlier, the irritation she had carried now buried beneath something far more deliberate.

Valeria had dressed with purpose.

Where the three men had remained composed and restrained in their presentation, she had done the opposite, choosing something that ensured she would not be overlooked the moment she entered the room. The deep red of her dress stood in quiet defiance of everything Valmere seemed to favor, rich and striking against the softer tones of the palace. The fabric clung to her form through the bodice, shaping closely along her chest and waist, the neckline dipping just enough to draw attention without crossing into anything that could be called improper. It was calculated, every detail of it, meant to highlight rather than suggest.

The fit eased at her hips, the skirt falling with a softer structure that allowed movement without losing its shape, giving her an air of control rather than restriction. Nothing about it was accidental.

Her hair had been pulled into a low bun at the nape of her neck, the style clean but not severe, leaving loose strands at the front to frame her face and soften the sharpness of her features. It left her neck exposed, deliberate in its own way, drawing the eye just as much as the dress itself.

The jewelry, however, said more than anything else. A ruby necklace rested against her collarbone, the deep red stones catching the light with every slight movement, matched by the earrings that framed her face. Fenrir had given them to her. And she wore them now for that reason alone.

This wasn’t just a presentation. It was a statement.

For him, and for Aurelia.

Fenrir noticed.

He said nothing.

They were led through the corridors once more, though this time the path felt more defined, more directed, as if there was no longer any question of where they were meant to go. The doors they approached were larger than the others, carved with detail that caught the dimming light in a way that gave them depth rather than decoration.

The doors opened before they reached them.

The dining hall was expansive, though not overwhelming, its size balanced by the warmth of its lighting rather than exaggerated by it. A long table stretched through the center, set with precision, each place arranged without excess, yet nothing lacking. The tableware reflected the soft glow of candlelight, the flames steady, untouched by any draft.

At the head of the table sat the King.

He did not rise immediately.

His presence alone was enough to anchor the room, his posture relaxed but far from careless, his gaze steady as it lifted toward them. To his right sat the Queen, composed, observant, her attention already taking in more than what was presented at face value.

They were expected.

That much was clear.

“Welcome,” the King said, his voice carrying easily without needing to be raised. “I trust your stay has been… sufficient.”

There was something in the wording.

Not warm.

Not cold.

Simply deliberate.

Rowan stepped forward just enough to acknowledge it with a slight incline of his head. “It has been,” he replied, his tone measured.

The King’s gaze shifted briefly between them, assessing without lingering too long on any one person, before gesturing toward the table. “Then let us not waste time. Please.”

They took their seats as indicated.

The Queen remained at the King’s right, her posture graceful, composed. Rowan took the seat beside her, his presence steady, grounded. Elias followed next, settling in with an ease that did not disrupt the structure of the table, though his attention moved more freely than the others. Across from them, Fenrir took his place. And beside him sat Valeria.

She sat with careful precision, though her attention did not remain on the table for long. Her gaze shifted once, then again, drawn toward the empty seat beside the King on his left.

A subtle movement at the entrance drew attention before any announcement could.

Aurelia entered last.

There was no rush to her step, no hesitation either, her presence filling the room in a way that did not demand attention yet gathered it all the same. The dress she wore fell in deep forest green, the fabric catching the candlelight in soft movements as she walked, jewels tracing beneath the line of her bust and fading seamlessly into the flow of the skirt. It did not overwhelm her, it followed her, moving with her rather than ahead of her.

Her hair fell in soft curls down her back, the front sections braided neatly to either side, meeting just enough to frame the crown of her head like a quiet halo. It softened nothing about her presence, only refined it.

She was…Beautiful. There was no denying it.

Even Elias, who rarely held his attention on one thing for too long, did not look away immediately. Rowan’s gaze flickered once, brief and controlled, before returning to the table. Fenrir noticed more than he intended to.

Aurelia approached the table without pause, offering a slight nod to her parents before taking her seat at the King’s left.

Directly beside Fenrir. Valeria’s expression did not change immediately. But her posture did. A subtle tightening, a shift in the way her hand rested against the table, her gaze lingering just a moment too long before she looked away.

She was too beautiful, even for a human, and far too close for Valeria's liking.