Chapter 25: Adrift

Third POV

Ysabella was fuming. She stabbed at the food on her plate with more force than necessary, her fork scraping against the ceramic in a way that made Emrich wince.

They were dining in their private quarters, away from the court, but even the comfort of their own space could not soothe her temper.

"She is impossible," Ysa hissed, her cheeks flushed with irritation. "She is arrogant, a complete snob. That nose of hers, always tilted up like she knows everything. Why am I even going through this? And what about my children? Who is going to teach them?"

Emrich cut his meat with calm precision, unbothered by his wife's outburst. He had seen her angry before, and he knew this storm would pass.

"Other educators will continue to do excellent work with the children," he said, as if commenting on the weather. Across the table, little Aileen played with the corn on her plate, oblivious to her mother's frustration.

Ysa rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they did not get stuck. "Fine, but none of this is necessary. Why does the King have to obey every single whim of that woman?"

"The Queen needs to heal," Emrich said simply.

That only made Ysa more annoyed. She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression turning sour. "And there is another unfortunate waste. Odette has never been good to anyone here, least of all the King." She knew her words were harsh, but she could not help it. She had watched Odette's coldness for years, had seen how the Queen's illness had become a convenient excuse for her cruelty.

Still, she understood. The King was drowning in guilt. Guilt over Samantha, guilt over the failed marriage, guilt over everything. He needed to heal Odette to free himself from that burden. Ysa just wished it did not involve her becoming a glorified errand girl for a woman who looked at her like she was dirt.

Emrich set down his knife and fork. He rose from his chair and walked around the table to stand behind his wife. His hands found her shoulders, kneading the tight muscles with gentle pressure. Ysa let out a soft sigh, her anger melting slightly under his touch.

"I believe you are strong enough," he murmured against her ear. "You will do well. Hecate may be difficult, but you have survived worse."

Ysa turned her head and met his lips in a soft kiss. The tension in her body eased as his warmth seeped into her. She felt her heart calm, soothed by the care of her mate. No matter what happened outside these walls, she had this. She had him.

A maid appeared in the doorway, her expression hesitant. "My lady, my lord, the King is at the door."

Ysa blinked. It was unusual for Maddox to visit their quarters at this hour. Emrich straightened and nodded. "Show him in."

Maddox stepped inside a moment later, looking slightly uncomfortable. His broad shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world, and his eyes held a distant look that Ysa had come to recognize over the years. He was a man constantly at war with himself.

He nodded to Ysabella. "I wanted to thank you personally for assisting Lady Hecate. I know it is not your usual duty."

Ysa inclined her head. "I am happy to help, Your Majesty." The words came easier now. She had learned to coexist with the King, even to understand him. He may be the monster Samantha saw before, but Ysa knew that Maddox wasn't just about the monster. He was also a broken man trying to hold his kingdom together.

She glanced at Emrich. "I will leave you two to talk." She gathered Aileen into her arms and carried the sleepy child to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

The two men settled near the fireplace. Emrich poured two glasses of strong wine and handed one to Maddox. Charcoal smoke curled from the end of a cigar as Maddox lit it, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly.

For a while, neither spoke. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Then Maddox set down his glass and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I dined with Lady Hecate tonight," he said, his voice low.

Emrich raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting.

Maddox sighed. "I find myself… attracted to her."

The admission hung in the air between them. Emrich had served Maddox for many years, had seen him through the loss of Samantha, through the cold marriage to Odette, through countless nights of solitary drinking. But he had never heard the King speak of attraction to another woman.

"Since Samantha," Maddox continued, his gaze fixed on the flames, "I have not felt drawn to anyone. Not like this. Until Hecate."

Emrich took a slow sip of his wine, choosing his words carefully. "Do you want her as a concubine?"

Maddox let out a hollow laugh. "A concubine. Do you think Hecate would accept such an arrangement?"

Emrich shook his head. "Forgive me, my King, but I do not think she is the type of woman who would obey such an order. She seems far too authentic for that. Too independent."

Maddox nodded slowly. He had thought the same. Hecate was not a woman to be commanded. She was a force of nature, wild and untamable. That was part of what drew him to her.

"Perhaps it is just a passing impression," Maddox said, though his voice lacked conviction. "I have more important matters to deal with."

Emrich considered his next words. He could suggest that the King take other women to satisfy his needs. Many Alphas did. But Emrich knew Maddox's condition too well. The King's wolf was volatile, dangerous.

Any woman who did not have a scent that calmed him could be hurt, even killed, during the act. That was why Maddox avoided casual encounters. That was why he had lived so long in solitude.

The silence stretched between them.

Finally, Maddox rose from his chair. "Thank you for the wine, my friend. And for listening."

Emrich stood and clasped his King's shoulder. "Always."

Maddox walked to the door, then paused. His back was to Emrich, his voice barely a whisper. "I will not act on it. I cannot afford to."

He left without another word.

Emrich watched him go, a heavy sadness settling in his chest. He knew where Maddox was headed. To some dark corner of the castle, or perhaps to the town below. Somewhere he could drink himself into oblivion, drowning his misery in bottle after bottle until he could not remember his own name.

The King had done it before. He would do it again.

And tomorrow, he would wake up with a pounding head and an emptier heart, and the cycle would continue.

Emrich returned to the bedroom, where Ysa was already in bed, her eyes questioning. "Is he alright?"

Emrich slipped under the covers beside her and pulled her close. "No," he said quietly. "But he will pretend he is. He always does."

Ysa rested her head on his chest, and they lay in silence, listening to the distant howl of the wind outside. Somewhere in the castle, a king was drinking alone, haunted by ghosts that would never let him go.