Chapter 29

Conall immediately noticed the way his mother’s expression shifted—panic, shock, and something darker—when he mentioned the “uncle” at the palace who had taught him to perfect his archery.

“Mom, don’t worry,” Conall rushed to reassure her, his young voice full of conviction. “This uncle is nice. He’s not a bad man…”

But Lois’s eyes darted to Jacinta, and Jacinta’s tight, wordless look said more than any warning could. Lois’s stomach dropped. Fate was cruelly weaving threads she had fought years to untangle—her children had wandered too close to their father. And looking at them now, their faces so strikingly similar to his, there was no denying the truth. Anyone who had ever seen Alpha Karl would recognize the resemblance instantly, even if he never announced them as his heirs.

Lois forced a smile, but her tone was firm. “Hmmm. Conall, you can’t assume a man is safe just because he seems kind. People can pretend, my love. You are still young, and before you trust anyone, I must be the one to decide if they’re worthy. Do you understand?”

Conall’s shoulders sagged with guilt. “Yes, Mother…”

Lois pulled him into her arms quickly, her own heart breaking at the shadow of disappointment on his face. “Thank you, my brave boy,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. Soon the others joined, and all seven of them folded into a warm, unbreakable embrace.

After dinner, the house burst with life again. They played games, shrieks of laughter echoing through the night until the sound spilled into the neighborhood. For once, Lois allowed herself to laugh, too—though her chest ached with the secret she carried.

Outside, hidden among the shadows, Alpha Karl stood with Wolfe and two other guards. His eyes burned as he watched the silhouettes through the cottage windows. Every sound of laughter stabbed him with longing. He had come here with excuses—Wolfe’s suspicions, Jacinta’s lies about birthing them—but the truth was simpler: he could not stay away.

He clenched his fists. He wanted nothing more than to walk through that door, gather them into his arms, feel their warmth. He ached for it.

“My King,” Wolfe’s voice broke the silence, respectful but firm. “Why watch their shadows when you could enter? They are your children. Claim them. Hold them.”

Karl’s lips twitched, his voice low and conflicted. “Do you not see it, Wolfe? Just seeing their silhouettes… I am no longer the dark, grim man I’ve been for years. For the first time, I feel alive. If I barge into their home tonight, I become the monster their mother warned them about. The ‘bad man.’ And I will not taint their hearts that way.”

“Your Majesty,” Wolfe argued, brows furrowing, “Lois would never dare speak of the Alpha King in such terms—”

But Karl’s silence cut him short. His deadly, sharp glare was enough to make Wolfe’s throat dry. He bowed instantly, silencing himself.

After a long pause, Wolfe tried again, changing the subject. “Your Majesty… do you not think it’s time to bring back Naismith from exile? Six years he’s been training new soldiers. Once the commander of the army, yet with every year away, his respect dwindles. If he returns too late, the weight of his authority may be gone.”

Karl’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his lips curled with quiet assurance. “Six years is enough. More than enough. He should return perfected. I’ve already summoned him back.”

Wolfe blinked, startled. He bowed again.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the cottage. The sextuplets were already bustling about with their chores, preparing for another day at the academy. Lois moved gracefully between the kitchen and dining table, setting down steaming plates and packing snacks. But her eyes quickly caught Coen’s sulky face.

“Oh, baby, what’s the matter?” she asked softly, stroking his hair.

Coen pouted, his voice small but heavy with emotion. “I didn’t get a goodnight kiss from you yesterday.”

Conall rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Coen. You fell asleep before we even finished the game!”

Lois smiled tenderly, her heart swelling at Coen’s innocence. She cupped his face. “Oh, my baby boy, I did kiss you. You were fast asleep, but I kissed you all. Don’t be sad… I’ll kiss you again, as many times as you want.” She leaned down, pressing a dramatic kiss to his forehead.

Coen’s sulk instantly melted into a wide grin.

“What a baby,” Cera teased, making the others laugh.

Breakfast carried on in warmth and chatter until Lois finally stood. “Cera, Ciri, Conan—it’s time to go. Hurry, or you’ll be late.”

The three children nodded quickly, shoving the last bites into their mouths. Lois crouched in front of them, her voice suddenly firm, her eyes grave.

“Listen to me. Boys, girls—it doesn’t matter how kind someone looks, you cannot trust them. Not yet. Do you hear me?”

The children nodded obediently. Lois kissed them quickly and led them to the door. As soon as she opened it, a strange cold breeze brushed her face. Her skin prickled, her senses sharp. From the roof above came a faint scuttle, like a cat darting across tiles.

“That was… unusual,” she thought, narrowing her eyes at the empty street. But she forced a smile as she walked them to the Arcane Academy. She kissed them goodbye, her gaze following them until they disappeared inside.

Later that day, Lois walked into her workplace. Every pair of eyes turned to her immediately. Especially Sara’s.

The bully smirked, venom dripping from her tongue. “How did you even manage to get out yest—”

The sharp crack of a slap cut her off. Lois’s hand still hung in the air, her chest heaving.

“Get off my back!” she roared.

The entire workshop froze in shock. Lois—the quiet one, the one who never spoke out—had just slapped Sara across the face in front of everyone.

Sara staggered, clutching her cheek in outrage. Whispers spread quickly among the workers, their eyes wide with awe. No one had ever dared defy Sara like that.

Lois calmly bent down, gathering her brushes and stacking the board where she had been painting Alpha Karl’s portrait. Her hands trembled slightly—she knew she would be called to his chamber again to continue the work. The thought twisted her stomach. She wanted it done quickly, finished, so she wouldn’t have to endure his presence more than necessary.

But Sara was not one to back down. Humiliated, she lunged forward, her fingers snatching for Lois’s hair.

Lois turned slowly, her voice soft but lethal. “Do you want to die?”

The deadpan calm in her tone froze Sara mid-grab.

“You wench,” Sara hissed, her smirk trembling, “who do you think you are?”

Lois’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want another slap? Or shall I carve gashes into your porcelain skin instead?”

The workshop held its breath, every worker leaning in, waiting to see what would happen next.