20: 11:59PM

Natasha’s POV

My phone was lying right there beside me on the bed, screen still lit with my mum’s contact photo and that long-distance signal bar blinking weakly. The call had been on for over twenty minutes, and not once had she dropped her voice since I picked.

"Who leaves their bride on the altar and walks away? Where is it done?!" she snapped again, her voice rising sharp and heavy, like she was standing right in my room, arms folded with her scarf halfway off her shoulder.

I sighed, pressing the base of my palm against my forehead and shifting where I sat. My back was against the headboard, legs pulled close to my chest. "Mum, calm down. Just calm down, please," I whispered.

She wasn’t listening. She never did when she was angry or worried. And right now, she was both.

"Calm down? How can I calm down? Do you know how many people are calling me. Did you see what people are saying about you on F******k? T*****r? I*******m? They’re dragging you like you’re—"

I sniffed and reached for the edge of the duvet, wiping under my eyes. "I’m not crying anymore, Mum. Please calm down."

There was a long pause. She didn’t speak immediately, but I could hear her breathing shift. It slowed a little, but I still heard the weight in it. The kind of weight she had when something was breaking her heart but she was trying to stay strong for me.

"I can still hear it in your voice, baby," she said softly now. "Don’t lie to me. Let’s do a video call. Let me see your face. Please, just turn on the camera."

I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. My fingers were already reaching for the button to end the call, not because I didn’t want to talk to her—but because if she saw me, the swollen eyes, the mascara stain on my pillow, the mess I looked like—I knew she wouldn’t sleep all night.

"Mum, it’s late. You’ve got work in the morning. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I promise."

Before she could argue again, I moved fast and ended the call, staring down at my phone screen until it faded black. The silence that followed was deafening. It filled every corner of the room, louder than her voice had been, louder than the music that played earlier at the reception.

I slid off the bed and walked to the small sink in the corner. The tap squeaked before the water ran. I cupped my hands under it and splashed some across my face, letting the coldness numb my skin a little. Maybe it would wash off everything—the humiliation, the betrayal, the shame, and the ache in my throat that had been there since the moment I saw him walk out that door, leaving me with those devourers.

Kingdom is always first, I know. But how could he have left me on the altar to attend to something else—

Nevermind.

What am I worth to him anyways?

“But at least he came back,” My wolf chimmed in my mind.

I shifted her to the back of my mind. I didn’t want anyone defending him now. I just wanted to be left with my stray thoughts.

I grabbed the towel from the hook and pressed it against my face, eyes shut, shoulders rising and falling slow. Maybe if I kept breathing like that, I wouldn’t cry again tonight.

But then it came.

The knock.

At first, I didn’t even know it was real. It was soft. Once. Then again. More firm this time.

I froze with the towel still pressed to my cheek. My head tilted slightly, heart pausing with it.

Another knock.

I turned sharply, stepping closer to the door, bare feet dragging against the tiled floor.

"Who’s there?" I called out. My voice was hoarse, lower than usual.

For a moment, there was no answer. Just the sound of the hallway fan humming faintly from outside.

Then the voice came. Male. Calm. Almost emotionless.

"The King wants to see you."

My brows pulled together immediately. "The King?" I repeated, more to myself than to him. My hand was still hanging close to the door handle, not turning it yet.

I glanced at my phone on the table where I dropped it. The screen blinked awake when I tapped it. Time: 11:59 PM.

Almost midnight.

Why would the King want to see me now?