Semua Bab Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince: Bab 151 - Bab 159

[ALEC]We rise from the firelight together. She holds my hand as we make our way through those sitting on the ground. Brynn glances up from her spot beside the flames, a question on her face. Kara leans slightly toward her and says, “We’ll be back.”Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t.The crowd’s murmur fades behind us as we slip down a narrow path that winds toward the edge of the village. It’s lined with wildflowers, soft purples and golds that look silver-blue beneath the lanterns. Their paper skins flicker faintly in the breeze, some nearly collapsed, some still glowing.She leans into my arm like she belongs there. Like we’ve done this a thousand times before—walked down this quiet path in this village.I don’t want to break the silence, but I have to ask. “What happened back there?” Kara doesn’t answer right away. She just presses closer. Her arm hooks around mine, and I feel her breath catch before she says, “Nothing.” Then softly, “Just… hold me.”So I do.We walk like that, slow

[ELARA]The massive ship looms in front of me—moored and waiting, its hull painted in proud Qaivenien green and gold. The sails are furled, but even still, the vessel feels alive, like a breathing giant, waiting to carry us into whatever truth lies across the sea. I’ve never set foot on one before.I’ve watched them from a distance, bobbing like enormous bones on the edge of the Cursed Gulf, sails rising like pale ghosts from the shores of Caelondor. But never this close. Never knowing I’d be boarding one with a Queen’s emerald on my finger and unrest tugging at the edges of my thoughts.A few steps away, Magnus stands in quiet discussion with Alistair. Except it’s not really Alistair—not the version most would recognize. His face has been altered into a stranger’s: forgettable cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose, plain eyes that don’t shine the way I know they should. Morgana stands beside him wearing the long, forgettable face of a woman called Talisa. She blends in so well it chil

[ELARA]The golden-eyed man finally decides to introduce himself as he guides us inside the palace. In his own words—Lord Clarence Dashwood, a friend and most loyal confidant of Prince Rasmus.The eeriness of his gaze has not settled yet entirely, but the palace has more to distract us from it. The courtyard stretches open before us, a temporary dome of cloth strung high above like a painted sky. The fabric ripples faintly with the breeze and depicts sprawling scenes—ships arriving on foreign shores, flames devouring the old and birthing the new, kings kneeling before thrones carved from coral and salt. Qaiven’s history, I suppose. It reminds me of the painted ceiling of the Council Room back in Caelondor. I only ever saw it once. That ceiling with its blank spaces—empty patches of wall waiting to be filled with victories and shame alike. What have they painted over now, I wonder? Since we left.Below the dome, courtiers in sea-colored silks and jewel-toned velvets laugh and raise t

[MAGNUS]She’s brave. Braver than I’ll ever be.Brave for putting my head in her lap when I needed to feel something other than the chaos and fear that flooded my heart. For brushing her fingers through my hair like I’m someone worth touching. And for kissing me, like she knew that it was exactly the thing I was silently begging for. And I’m a drunk enough that my heart feels easy. Just enough that I can let this happen without falling apart too soon. Because if I were sober, I’d be gone the moment she looked at me like that. I’d be on my knees the second she whispered my name.We tried this once—we attempted to strip the layers down and reach for each other with no shields, no weapons between us. That night ended in a Familiar’s scream. In the kind of terror that makes you never want to need again.But tonight… she doesn't run. And neither do I.I sit up slowly, fingers still tangled in the blanket between us, and she doesn’t pull away when I reach for her. Her mouth is parted sligh

[ELARA]What does this mean for his claim on the throne? The thought strikes so sharply, it suffocates me momentarily, making me breathless. All these months of scheming, of planning, of preparation, and gathering allies. Of charming men and women alike. Of building an army against Eldric. If he were to find out the truth…If at all, there’s any truth to this. I draw in a sharp breath, urging myself to come up with something, anything to comfort Magnus, to tell him we’ll find out, or that it doesn’t matter, or whatever it is he needs right now. But before I can, we hear footsteps.Prince Rasmus strides in, radiant in emerald and gold, immediately commanding attention with his presence. And behind him is his bride. Princess Daphne Elspeth of Wyvern. Resplendent in scarlet silk and sunlit rubies, her long copper hair tied into a thick braid that rests on her front. A thought flits across my mind, but I don’t know if it’s mine or Magnus’s or both.I once believed Daphne would marry M