CHAPTER TWENTY

Ronan's pov

It had been seven days.

Seven long, crawling, infuriating days.

I knew she was avoiding me. Knew it with the same certainty I knew how to kill a man in five different ways. She ducked out of hallways the moment she sensed me. Changed routes. Kept her head down when she couldn’t vanish.

I could’ve summoned her. One command, one whisper of her name or writing her name on a piece of paper and she’d be groveling at my feet in minutes.

But I didn’t.

Why? I told myself it was because I had more pressing matters. Kingdom affairs, war council strategies, patrols to oversee. But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was that I wanted to see how far she’d go.

How far she’d push this invisible wall between us.

How long she could pretend she hadn’t dreamt of something that I needed to know and awoke with healed flesh miraculously.

Each day I caught faint traces of her scent lingering in empty rooms or along the halls where she’d just passed. It haunted me. It called me. It enraged me.

She wasn’t the only one avoiding people.

Garrick had been scarce from my side because he's too busy trying to get her attention and it brought me a deep sense of satisfaction that she wasn't giving it to him either.

Alaric hadn’t left me alone in days. My wolf was restless, pacing beneath my skin like a caged predator. He snarled anytime Garrick’s name came up. And when Elias so much as mentioned her…

My hands still itched from restraining myself.

Speaking of Garrick, the bastard had been unusually quiet in council meetings. Grumpy. Distracted. The other day I caught him lost in thought mid-discussion about fortifying the eastern borders.

“You’re awfully quiet,” I muttered as I signed a report. “Lost in thought, Beta?”

Garrick blinked, startled. “Sorry, just… thinking.”

“About the Moonstone girl?” Elias snorted from the other end of the table.

Alaric snarled instantly, but I kept my expression still.

Garrick glared at the Gamma. “Her name is Lyra.”

“Oh? We’re calling her by name now?” Elias said, leaning back in his seat, voice oozing mockery. “What next? Inviting her to training? Bathing her with roses and feeding her grapes while she fans your ego?”

“Shut up, Elias,” Garrick growled.

“Or what? You’ll duel me for your precious servant? Shall I remind you what she is? A filthy Moonstone rat whose mother probably sold herself to get a place inside the pack.”

The tension in the room snapped.

I didn’t even register I was standing until the chair screeched behind me.

“Enough,” I barked, my voice echoing against the stone.

Both men froze.

I turned to Garrick. “Focus on your duties. If she doesn’t want to speak with you, that’s her right. You are Beta, not a love-struck pup.”

Garrick clenched his jaw but nodded stiffly.

Then I turned to Elias.

My voice dropped into a growl. “And you will stop using her to provoke him. If you disrespect her again in my presence, I will personally rip your tongue from your throat.”

Elias flinched.

But that wasn’t what I wanted to say.

No, what I wanted was to slam his head into the wall until he never uttered her name again.

Alaric was spitting curses in my mind. “Let me speak. Let me handle it. One snap and he won’t ever look at her again.”

But I didn’t give in. I couldn’t afford to—not yet.

Once the meeting ended, I found myself wandering the empty halls. Restless. Agitated. Her scent was fading. Duller now. Faint. Like she was slowly erasing herself from this place.

Why did that bother me so much?

She had been here for less than a month and already managed to turn me inside out. My instincts were all wrong around her. I didn’t know whether I wanted to cage her or free her.

Hurt her or protect her.

Maybe both.

Maybe neither.

By the seventh day, I snapped.

I needed answers. But not from her.

No, she was as clueless as I was—or at least pretended to be.

But there was someone who might know something.

Someone I’d avoided for a long time.

I pulled my coat over my shoulders and moved through the lower corridors, past the armor vault and ancient stone halls, until I reached the northern wing of the castle.

The forgotten wing.

Where the former king lived.

Where my adoptive father, King Aldric—the last ruler of Shadowfang—spent his days in self-imposed exile.

The guards posted outside his chamber stood at attention the moment they saw me.

“My King,” one bowed.

“Open the door,” I commanded.

They didn’t hesitate.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and I stepped into the thick scent of old books, smoke, and aged wine.

The chamber was dimly lit, only a few scattered candles illuminating the walls covered in maps, scrolls, and worn-out letters.

In the corner, near a wide fireplace, sat the man I hadn’t spoken to in over a year.

He didn’t look up.

“Ronan,” he said without turning.

Of course he knew I was there.

“I need to speak with you,” I said.

“Hmm,” he mused, leaning forward to pour himself a drink. “You only ever come here when your peace has been disturbed.”

“It has.”

His hand paused mid-pour. “And what has disturbed the mighty King Ronan of Shadowfang?”

I didn’t answer.

He turned then, his silver-streaked hair falling over sharp eyes that hadn’t aged a day since his abdication. “Sit. And tell me.”

I sat across from him, feeling like a boy again. Like the heir who had never been good enough.

“There’s a girl,” I said finally.

His brow quirked. “There always is.”

“No,” I said. “Not like this.”

And in that moment, I knew—Lyra wasn’t just a mystery to unravel.

She was the beginning of something I hadn’t foreseen.

And I was terrified of what that meant.