Chapter 39: The Laurels

Third POV

The castle had been holding its breath for hours.

Servants whispered in corridors. Guards shifted uneasily at their posts. Even the hounds in the kennels had gone silent, as if sensing the tension that hung over Emberclaw like a storm cloud.

Ysabella stood at the window of the great hall, her hands pressed against the cold stone, her eyes fixed on the gates. She had not moved from that spot since dawn. Arya had brought her tea, then bread, then more tea. All of it sat untouched on the table behind her.

Her daughter was out there. Somewhere in the frozen forest. With rogues.

And she was here. Useless.

"Lady Ysabella," Arya said softly from behind her. "You should sit. You have been standing for hours."

"I cannot sit."

"You need to keep your strength. For when she returns."

Ysabella did not answer. She could not. Her throat was too tight. Her chest too heavy.

She thought of Emrich, somewhere on the road, unaware that his daughter was missing. She thought of how she would tell him if the worst happened. She thought of the empty bed in the nursery, the small pillow that still smelled of Aileen's hair.

No. She could not think like that.

Hecate was out there. Maddox was out there. If anyone could bring Aileen back, it was those two.

The hours crawled past.

And then, finally, a shout echoed from the courtyard.

"The king returns! The king returns with the child!"

Ysabella ran.

Her skirts tangled around her legs, her boots slipped on the stone floor, but she did not slow down. She burst through the great doors and into the courtyard, her heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe.

The crowd parted before her. Guards, servants, nobles, all of them stepping aside to let the mother through.

And there, at the center of it all, was Hecate.

The healer sat atop a grey mare, her black robes dusted with snow, her dark hair wild around her face. Cradled against her chest, wrapped in a cloak that was not her own, was Aileen.

The girl was pale. Her eyes were closed. But her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep.

Ysabella's legs gave way. She fell to her knees in the snow, her hands reaching up, her mouth open in a sob that would not come.

Hecate dismounted carefully, holding the child close. She crossed the distance between them and knelt in the snow, placing Aileen gently into her mother's arms.

"She is cold," Hecate said softly. "And frightened. But she is not injured. She will be fine."

Ysabella gathered her daughter against her chest, pressing her face into Aileen's tangled hair. The girl stirred, her small hand curling around Ysabella's collar.

"Mama," Aileen mumbled, still half asleep. "I knew you would find me."

The sob finally broke free.

Around them, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Servants wept openly. Guards pounded their fists against their chests in salute. Someone shouted the king's name. Someone else shouted Hecate's.

Ysabella looked up through her tears and saw Maddox standing near the stallion, his shirt torn, his hands stained with blood that was not his own. He was watching Hecate with an expression that made Ysabella's heart clench.

It was not just attraction. It was not just the mate bond pulling at him.

It was admiration. Wonder. The look of a man who had seen something extraordinary and could not look away.

They had fought together. Ysabella had heard the whispers from the guards who had spotted them from the walls. The king and the healer, moving as one, fighting back to back, covering each other's weaknesses. The rogue den had been torn apart. The child had been saved.

And now Maddox was looking at Hecate as if he was seeing her for the first time.

Hecate turned from Ysabella and met his gaze. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The crowd faded. The cheers muted. There was only the two of them, standing in the snow, the space between them crackling with something unspoken.

Then Hecate looked away. She brushed the snow from her robes and stepped back, putting distance between them.

Maddox's jaw tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form the words, a voice cut through the celebration like a blade.

"Someone explain to me what my husband was doing alone in the forest with another woman."

The crowd went silent.

Odette sat in her wheelchair at the edge of the courtyard, pushed by one of her personal maids. Her face was pale, her lips thin, her eyes blazing with cold fury. She looked at Maddox. She looked at Hecate. She looked at the child in Ysabella's arms.

No one spoke.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. The cheers died in the throats of the onlookers. Guards exchanged uneasy glances. Servants melted back toward the walls, eager to escape the queen's wrath.

Odette's gaze settled on Hecate. "Well? I am waiting."

Hecate inclined her head, her expression calm and unreadable. "Your Majesty. The child was lost in the storm. The king and I rode out to retrieve her."

"Alone. The two of you. Without guards."

"The storm made it impossible for a full party to travel. Speed was essential."

Odette's nostrils flared. "And yet you saw fit to bring my husband into the rogue forest. At night. In a blizzard. Without informing me."

"The king is the head of this pack. He has the authority to"

"I know what authority my husband has." Odette's voice was sharp, cutting. "What I do not know is why he chose to exercise that authority in the company of a woman who is not his wife."

Maddox stepped forward, his expression hard. "Odette. This is not the time or place."

"Then tell me when is the time, husband. Tell me when I should expect my questions to be answered." She looked around the courtyard, at the faces of the onlookers who were trying very hard not to stare. "Or perhaps you would prefer to discuss this in private. Where your healer cannot hide behind her potions and her pretty eyes."

Hecate did not react. She stood still as stone, her dark eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Odette's head.

Maddox moved to stand beside Odette's wheelchair, his hand resting on the back of it. "The child is safe. That is what matters. Whatever concerns you have, we will discuss them inside."

Odette laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, we will discuss them, husband. Rest assured."

She gestured to her maid, who began to push the wheelchair back toward the castle. But Odette was not finished. She turned her head, her cold eyes finding Hecate one last time.

"You should be careful, Healer. The king has a history of hurting the women who get too close to him. I am living proof."

The courtyard went very still.

Maddox's hand tightened on the wheelchair, his knuckles going white. But he said nothing. He only watched as Odette was wheeled away, her words hanging in the air like poison.

Ysabella clutched Aileen tighter, her heart pounding. She looked at Hecate, searching her face for any sign of pain, of fear, of recognition.

But Hecate's expression was calm. Unreadable. She turned to Ysabella and smiled, small and tired.

"Take your daughter inside," she said. "Warm her. Feed her. Let her sleep."

"What about you?" Ysabella asked.

Hecate looked toward the castle, toward the doors where Odette had disappeared.

"I have work to do."