Chapter 32

Alpha Karl and his personal guard, Wolfe, arrived at one of the residences on the north side of the palace. The estate was vast and sophisticated, divided into quarters for royal families and another for the palace workers.

This particular castle had only recently been remodeled—lavish, modern, and majestic. It had originally been built for Great Hale’s Royal Heir, but Alpha Karl had ordered that the sextuplets be brought here. Ten rooms had been prepared for them, spacious and gilded.

The castle’s exterior gleamed under the pale light, walls carved from pure white stone, etched with delicate patterns and crowned with intricate decorations. The sight tugged at Karl’s chest, drawing out memories of Aloe—memories he both despised and cherished.

Guards stood firmly at their posts outside, motionless as statues. Karl entered the castle, his heavy steps echoing against marble floors. The opulence that greeted him was fit for kings—chandeliers of crystal hanging high, their light scattering into prismatic fire across the polished floors. Every detail screamed wealth and divine taste.

This is fitting, Karl thought darkly. My sextuplets are of royal blood. They deserve nothing less.

“The King is here!” the herald’s voice rang.

From the library upstairs, Jacinta froze mid-sentence, her heart sinking. The king? Here? Has he… released Lois already?

Turning quickly to the children, she composed her voice.

“You all stay here. Practice your magic. And remember—no Chaos. I need to step out for a moment. I’ll return soon.”

“But we want to meet the King too,” Conan pressed eagerly, eyes bright.

“You cannot meet him yet,” Jacinta replied firmly.

“Not yet?” Conan tilted his head. “So… someday?”

“That was not what I meant,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

But Coen, grinning, interrupted with a loud laugh. “I have met the King already! He is powerful, just like Mother said Father would be.”

“Awww,” Conan, Cera, and Cirila squealed, clapping their hands. They had long fantasized about meeting their father—especially the one among them who bore his likeness so strongly.

Jacinta sighed heavily, her chest tight with the burden she carried. She opened the library doors and descended the grand staircase.

“Good day, my King,” she greeted softly, bowing.

Karl cleared his throat, adjusting the folds of his heavy robe.

“How are my royal sextuplets?” he growled, his face devoid of expression.

“They are well, Your Majesty,” Jacinta answered quickly.

“Can I ask you something?” Karl’s voice dropped, low and raw. “And I need your most sincere, unbiased response.”

“I am all ears, Your Majesty.” Jacinta’s knees trembled, but she held her composure. She dared not provoke him—dared not risk Lois suffering more. She also dared not ask after Lois, lest it fuel his rage further.

“Do you think Lois would tell the sextuplets I am a bad man?” Karl asked.

The question stunned Jacinta. Her lips parted, words catching in her throat. Was this a trick? Or was it, terrifyingly, an honest doubt from the King himself?

“Did Lois… say something at the West Palace?” she asked cautiously, measuring every syllable.

Karl’s jaw clenched. He adjusted his robe again, his voice cutting like steel.

“Do not speak of her. She dares not threaten me. If she does, her days in the cell will be prolonged.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Jacinta murmured.

He sighed, turning to leave, when suddenly the door creaked open.

“Lady Jacinta!” Conan’s small voice carried across the hall. “Cahir tripped while jumping. He looks hurt.”

Karl froze. His eyes widened as they landed on Conan.

It was the first time he had seen the boy. And gods… he was breathtaking. Conan’s delicate beauty stole Karl’s breath—so much like Lois it ached. He was Lois’s reflection without her thorns, a rose unguarded by pain, soft and unspoiled. Ethereal.

For a moment, Karl’s heart betrayed him. A warmth he had not felt in years surged inside him, pounding through his chest like the rush of cinnamon and honey cakes from long-forgotten days.

Jacinta caught his expression and shuddered, terrified that Karl might punish her for letting Conan appear.

Instead, Karl bent down. His voice softened, foreign to Jacinta’s ears.

“Take care of your brother, Conan. Do not always run to your Lady.”

And then—like a storm breaking into sunlight—he kissed Conan gently on the cheek, his hand stroking the boy’s long, straight black hair, the same shade as Lois’s.

Conan smiled brightly. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Karl’s chest squeezed. Uncle. If only the boy knew…

Unable to linger lest he break, Karl stood abruptly, his steps heavy as he left. His heart thundered with a sweetness he both craved and despised.

“Thank you for your time, Your Majesty,” Jacinta bowed. She watched until he disappeared from sight, only then releasing her trembling breath.

Conan tugged at her hand. “Does he know where Mum is?”

Jacinta stiffened. “Enough questions for today, boy,” she muttered, leading him back inside.

The other children looked at her expectantly. Then Conall smirked.

“We only sent him out so he could see the man strong like Father.”

Jacinta forced a laugh. “What a clever one you are.”

But her chest ached. “Alright, that’s enough. Time for a nap, all of you,” she said briskly, ushering them to their rooms.

Night passed into day.

Jacinta jolted awake at the sound of a loud bang downstairs. Heart racing, she ran from her room. Maids scurried about, cleaning and setting the castle in order. The sun poured in, blinding her eyes until she shielded them with her palm.

When her vision cleared, she saw Wolfe standing there.

Her heart skipped wildly, panic blooming in her chest. The King’s personal guard? Again?

“What—what happened, my Lord? Did the King send you?” she asked quickly, afraid her voice would crack. Is this it? Has he found a reason to kill me?

“The King wants his children brought to the West Palace,” Wolfe said firmly. “Do not be alarmed.”

Her heart thudded harder. Did I mishear him? Did he mean my head, not the children? She let out a nervous chuckle.

But Wolfe’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and unreadable. The way her lips trembled as she spoke—the way her eyes shone—tempted him. For one dangerous second, he imagined seizing her, kissing her. But the maids bustled about, and the guards were stationed nearby. He pushed the thought away.

“Lord Wolfe?” Jacinta called softly, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yes. That is what I said. Dress them and bring them to the West Palace. The King could not sleep last night after seeing Conan. He wishes to meet them all.”

Jacinta swallowed, her mind spinning. “So… I just bring them over. Right now?”

“Yes,” Wolfe replied.

Her knees felt weak. She nodded and turned to prepare the children.