Chapter Six

The blue eyes held mine.

I forgot how to breathe.

I stayed curled against the damp stone wall. My arms wrapped around my head. My knees pressed to my chest. My whole body shook. I couldn't make it stop.

"Breathe."

The voice was low. Velvet wrapped around steel.

I tried to breath. My chest hitched. The air came in short, ragged gasps that burned my throat.

"I can't," I whispered.

"You can." He said. He didn't move closer. He stayed exactly where he was. One knee on the cold stone floor. His hands resting on his thigh. "Slowly. In through your nose."

I closed my eyes. I tried to follow his voice instead of the screaming in my head. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. My ribs still ached. Everything ached. But the trembling in my hands began to ease.

"That's it," he said. "Again."

I did it again. The darkness loosened its grip. Just a little. Enough for me to open my eyes.

He was still there.

The Lycan King. Valerius Hale.

I had seen him once before. Two years ago. From the far end of a crowded hall, when I was still someone worth noticing. He had been a distant figure then. A shape on a dais. A name spoken in whispers.

Now he was kneeling in front of me. Close enough that I could see the silver threads stitched into his collar. Close enough that I could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes. Close enough that I could feel the weight of his presence pressing against my skin.

His hair was dark. Almost black. It looked like he had been pushing it back from his face all night. His jaw was sharp and tight. His eyes were pale. So pale they looked almost silver in the dim light of the archive. Like a winter sky just before snow.

They were watching me. Those pale eyes were steadily, patiently on me.

He was dressed for a banquet. Dark formal clothes. Silver thread at the collar. The royal crest pinned to his chest.

Not here.

Not kneeling on cold stone in a dusty archive.

Not kneeling for me.

A second man stood in the doorway.

I hadn't noticed him at first. He was behind Valerius, half-hidden in the shadows of the broken door. But now that my eyes had adjusted to the light, I could see him clearly.

He was tall. Broad. Dark hair swept back from his face. His clothes were formal, too. Dark leather trimmed with gold thread. There, a crest of Avalon pinned to his shoulder.

His hazel eyes were fixed on me.

And the moment I looked at him, something happened.

A thread pulled tight in my chest. I couldn't breathe. Deep inside me, something stirred. Something I haven't felt in years. Something I thought had died in Blackwood.

A flicker. A tiny spark.

The man, Denzel—stepped into the room. He moved like he owned the ground under his boots. His hands curled into fists at his sides. His wolf pushed against the air. Heavy, ancient: I could feel it pressing against my skin like a second heartbeat.

He stopped. His eyes never left mine.

I couldn't look away. Something in him called to something in me. Something broken. Something I had buried two years ago.

My breath caught. The spark flickered again then suddenly died.

Denzel's jaw tightened. His hands stayed curled into fists. His whole body was tense. Like he was fighting something he didn't understand.

"Valerius," he said. His voice was rough. Gravel dragged over stone.

Valerius didn't look at him. He was still watching me.

"She's hurt," Denzel said. "Badly."

"I know."

"She needs a physician."

"I already sent for one."

Valerius rose to his feet. He moved slowly. Deliberately. Like he was giving me time to track him.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

I tried. I pushed myself up with my back against the wall. My legs wobbled. My ribs screamed. I made it halfway before my knees buckled.

Valerius caught my elbow. His grip was firm but gentle. He didn't pull me. He just held me steady until I found my balance.

"Slowly," he said. "There's no rush."

I looked up at him. He looked down at me.

"Come," he said. "You need to sit down."

He released my elbow. Turned toward the doorway. I followed. My legs shook with every step. The light from the corridor was too bright after the darkness. I had to squint.

Denzel didn't step aside.

He walked beside us. Not behind. Not ahead. Beside. His strides matched ours. His presence was a steady weight at my left. He didn't ask for permission. He just moved.

We reached the garden pavilion.

The silver candleholders were still scattered on the marble floor. Where I had dropped them. Servants had gathered near the steps. They stared at me. At the shattered archive door. At the Lycan King and the Alpha of Avalon walking on either side of me.

I kept my eyes on the ground. My bare feet were cut. Dirty. My tunic was torn. Their stares felt like needles piercing against my skin. With every stare, comes a whisper.

Valerius didn't look at them. He just kept walking.

We reached the main courtyard.

Alpha Silas was there. He was speaking with two guards near the carriage. When he saw us, his face went pale.

Then his eyes landed on me.

"Elora," he said. "What are you doing out here? You were told to stay in your room."

Valerius stopped walking.

He looked at Silas. Then at me. Then back at Silas.

Something quickly shifted in his face. A coldness. A stillness. The kind of stillness that came before a storm.

"Alpha Silas," he said. His voice was quiet, but the whole courtyard went silent.

Silas's mouth closed. He bowed quickly. "Your Majesty. Forgive me. I didn't see you there."

"This girl," Valerius said. "She belongs to your household?"

Silas's face tightened. He glanced at me. Then away.

"She is my adopted daughter," he said. "Elora. She returned yesterday."

Valerius didn't speak for a moment. He just looked at Silas then at me. The coldness in his eyes deepened.

"She was locked in the archive room," he said. "In the dark. She was there for hours. The door was bolted from the outside."

Silas blinked. "What?"

"She was screaming. No one opened it."

Silas looked at me. Then back at Valerius. His mouth opened and closed.

"There must be a mistake," he said. "Elora has a habit of exaggerating—"

"Are you calling me a liar, Alpha Silas?"

The words were soft yet deadly soft. Silas went pale.

"No. Of course not, Your Majesty. I only meant—"

"I want your family in the main hall," Valerius said. "Every one of them, including Sienna."

Silas nodded quickly. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Valerius looked at me. His eyes softened. Just a fraction. "Come. You need to sit down before you fall down."

I wanted to argue. But my legs gave out before I could say a word.

Denzel caught me.

His strong arms wrapped around my shoulders. Steady and trong. His wolf pressed against mine. And this time, the spark didn't die. It flickered. It grew.

My breath caught. I looked up at him. He looked down at me.

"Easy," he said softly.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. But deep inside my chest, something stirred.

My wolf. She was still there. Weak but alive.

And she knew him.

A man in a dark coat pushed through the gathered servants. He carried a leather bag. He moved with quick, efficient steps.

"Your Majesty," he said, kneeling beside me. "I came as soon as I was summoned."

Valerius didn't answer. He just watched as the physician's hands moved over my wrists. My throat. The bruises on my arms.

The physician pressed gently against my ribs. I flinched. He pulled back.

"Sorry," he murmured. Then he looked up at Valerius. His face was tight. "She's badly dehydrated. Has multiple contusions. At least two ribs are cracked." He paused. His fingers hovered over the scars on my forearms. Some old scars wrongly Healed. "These are older; Months or maybe years. This isn't from today."

Valerius didn't speak. But I saw his hands curl into fists at his sides. I saw his jaw tighten. I saw the muscle twitch in his cheek.

Denzel's arms stayed around me. He hadn't let go. His grip tightened. Just a little.

I closed my eyes. The world was fading at the edges. The voices around me grew distant.

My wolf stirred one more time. A weak pulse. A quiet breath. A flicker of warmth in the cold.

Then the darkness pulled me under.