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Chapter Nine
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2025-12-08 13:19:54Morning seeped into Gregory’s chambers like a reluctant apology — thin, pale light slipping between the curtains, casting quiet patterns across the stone floor. He had slept, but not well. Night had stretched long and heavy over him, filled with half-formed dreams he could no longer recall. Only the unease remained, thick beneath his ribs.
A sharp knock sounded.
“My lord?” a servant called softly through the door. “The King requests your presence in the council chamber.”
Gregory exhaled, steadying himself. “Tell him I’m coming.”
He rose, washed quickly, and dressed in a dark tunic trimmed with silver thread — formal enough for court but simple enough to feel like armor. He fixed his collar, combed his hair back, and step
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Crown of Betrayal Chapter Twenty-Two
The Blackstone home sounded the same as it always did at dusk—boys arguing somewhere down the hall, Mrs. Blackstone reminding someone to finish a chore, the soft clatter of dishes being put away. Warm, familiar noise. The kind that had always wrapped around Elora like a safety net.Tonight, it skimmed over her without ever sinking in.She paused in the doorway of Kailee’s room, one hand gripping the frame tightly enough to sting.Kailee looked up instantly. “You look like you’re deciding whether to run or knock,” she said gently. “It’s me, Lor. You can come in.”Elora stepped inside, though her feet felt strangely heavy. The room was exactly the same—soft amber lanterns glowing on the walls, the scent of sweetgrass drifting through the cracked window, trinkets scattered across Kailee’s shelves in a way that only made sense to Kailee.Their dresses hung neatly from wooden pegs. Kailee’s was luminous gold. Elora’s was deep garnet with bronze edging that caught the light like banked fire
Crown of Betrayal Chapter Twenty-One
Light cracked.Briar jolted awake, lungs seizing as though she had been yanked from the bottom of a freezing river. Sweat clung to her skin. Her heart raced unevenly, stumbling in a rhythm that wasn’t her own.Fragments of the vision flashed:A trembling silver figure.A pale hand reaching through darkness.A heartbeat faltering.A scream that never broke free.She pressed her palms over her face.It wasn’t just a dream.It was a warning.Acacia didn’t speak to her in words — only in emotion. Today that emotion vibrated through Briar’s ribs like a trembling string: urgency, sorrow, fear.Someone was slipping.Someone was calling for help.Someone Acacia had shown only to her.Briar rose slowly, steadying her shaking legs before crossing her room. Dawn filtered through the crystal window in warm gold hues, catching on her pin-straight rose-gold hair as she pulled it back with trembling fingers. Even perfectly straight, stray strands refused to lie flat this morning — as if the dream ha
Crown of Betrayal Chapter Twenty
Elora hit the ground running.No drifting into sleep, no gentle slip into another dream. One blink—one heartbeat—and she was sprinting barefoot through a forest that writhed around her like a living creature.Branches clawed at her arms. Thorns tore at her legs. Roots shifted beneath her feet, trying to trip her. The air tasted of blood and metal. The trees were the same towering shapes she had seen in every nightmare this week… but tonight, they pulsed with veins of red light, like they were alive.Behind her, something growled.Not an animal. Not a Shifter. Something older.Elora didn’t look back. She pushed harder, lungs burning, throat raw. She felt her human body faltering. Too slow. Too fragile. Whatever chased her was gaining ground, shaking the earth with every step.She needed her wolf.Her ribs cracked. Her fingers curled into claws. Her spine arched—But the shift stalled.Something was holding her human form in place, like invisible hands gripping her skin and refusing t
Crown of Betrayal Chapter Nineteen
Music lilted through the Great Ceremonial Hall in warm, rising swells, a festive melody threaded with drums and reed-flutes. Lanterns shaded in silver-gold hung from arched beams overhead, filling the hall with soft gleam and shadow. Laughter echoed in waves. Tables crowded with celebration food—roast game glazed with spice, berry tarts dusted in sugar, bread still steaming from ovens—should have made the feast feel joyous.Gregory felt none of it.He stood at the head table, untouched plate in front of him, barely hearing the nobles gathered nearby. His gaze stayed locked, unwavering, on the far side of the hall.Elora.Her storm-gray ceremonial cloak swept around her as she moved—quiet, steady, always aware of the space around her. Silver-threaded leaves shimmered at her cuffs. Her hair, braided with a simple moon-white ribbon, brushed the base of her throat. She wore no jewels, nothing showy. She didn’t need them.Even across the room, she pulled at him like gravity.Elora laughed
Crown of Betrayal Chapter Eighteen
The Fenraen Great Ceremonial Hall rose like a monument carved from living moonlight. Silverstone pillars arched toward the high ceiling, curving into a vast crescent skylight that filtered daylight into soft, pale beams, turning the midday sun into something gentler—almost lunar. Beneath that shimmering glow, thousands had gathered. Families packed the seats, warriors in formal cloaks lined the outer aisles, and the hum of anticipation rippled through every breath of the hall.Elora stepped inside with Kailee and Zayden, her storm-gray cloak brushing the polished stone floor. The sheer volume of crowd noise should have overwhelmed her, but the moment her eyes found the dais at the front of the hall, everything else sharpened into a single, unbroken line.Gregory.He stood beside the Principal and the High Priestess, his House colors—shadow-gray and deep green—rich against the pale stone. His cloak hung perfectly, his shoulders square, sunlight catching the gold threaded into his hair.
Crown of Betrayal Chapter Seventeen
By Friday morning, Elora felt as though she had been hollowed out and stitched back together with frayed thread.Another night lost to the dark forest. Another night trapped until the shadows finally released her.Each dream dragged her deeper than the one before. Each waking felt like clawing her way through tar, her limbs heavy, her lungs tight. The exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, thick and suffocating. Even standing upright felt like a fight she was losing.Tomorrow was her birthday. And at the pace the dreams were worsening… She feared what sleeping tonight might bring.A tremor ran through her fingers as she fastened the silver crescent clasp at the base of her throat. The ceremonial uniform felt heavier this morning, though it weighed no more than it had during yesterday’s fitting.The black undertunic hugged her arms, the silver embroidery at the cuffs catching the early light as if it pulsed faintly with her heartbeat. Over it, the storm-gray cloak settled again
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