Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Princess in the Shadows: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

LyraLyra didn’t remember standing, didn’t register the moment her feet began to move. Her thoughts drifted through her dream. Who was mother talking about? How will I find them? And what is this rose?Her heartbeat was too loud in the den’s quiet halls. Everyone slept.The mistress had tested her tonight. Why? What would it lead to? Her skin still hummed with the magic’s energy, the thrill splashing over her thoughts like ice water. Her cheeks flushed with shame. Why did I enjoy it?Rounding a corner, her breath caught as she caught sight of Veyron.He moved down the hall ahead of her, a bowl clutched in his large hands. His fingers were tight around it, knuckles white. He did not stride with his usual command; instead, his steps were short, and careful as if afraid he might lose his balance.She followed but he didn’t notice. Not when he entered his chamber. He stepped toward the great stone hearth, the firelight throwing his shadow long against the walls. Lyra stopped at the th

LyraThey traveled for the better part of the day through the vast, wind-swept grasslands, where golden fields rippled like an endless sea. Daphne kept the mood light, chatting idly with Lyra about whatever she saw around them; the color of the sky, the crispness of the air, idle musings about the villages they passed. Lyra responded when she could, but she was exhausted. Yet with every lapse of the conversation, her blood burned with a secret intimate need. The mistress of shadows’ torment never far, lurking behind every breath. The vibrations of riding thrumming along her ever sensitive womanhood.Veyron rode ahead. The tension in his shoulders and the sharp set of his jaw made it clear that his thoughts were not something he intended to share. The warrior who had fetched them from the quarters rode alongside them. He was middle-aged, with graying temples and a face lined by years of battle, yet his demeanor was easygoing. He joined in Daphne’s chatter with an amused tone, though w

LyraFollowing the group to the table, Lyra watched Veyron warily. Rivenn had been testing and teasing him but she had seen the moment where he almost didn’t stop. He had wanted to see blood and the echoes of anger hadn’t fully faded.Rivenn leaned back in his chair, lazily scanning the room as he took a deep swig of ale—then nearly choked on it. He set his tankard down with a thunk, eyes locking onto Lyra and Daphne.“Well, well,” he drawled, a slow grin spreading across his face. “No one told me we’d have company.”At that, the rest of the group turned, as if finally registering the two women who had ridden in with Veyron.Brann’s grin widened. “And no one told me the company would be this pretty.”Veyron’s fingers curled around the handle of his drink, his knuckles tightening as Brann leaned forward, all easy charm and reckless grins. A low growl hummed in the back of Veyron’s throat, too soft for anyone but Lyra to catch.She tried to ignore him.Eryssa groaned. “Gods save us, her

Veyron The tavern buzzed with life, its warmth at odds with the cold void inside him. His enforcers reveled in their drinks, their camaraderie unshaken despite the serious mission ahead. They nudged him, coaxed him, trying to pull him into their merriment. “Come on, Veyron,” Brann called, already three drinks deep. “I haven’t seen you smile in years. Are your teeth still intact, or did you grind them all to dust?” Veyron exhaled through his nose, arms folded across his chest. “I’ll smile when I see something worth smiling about.” Delvin smirked. “Gods help us all when that day comes.” Eryssa shook her head. “Lost cause,” she muttered, clinking her tankard against Rivenn’s. “Might as well try getting Aeron drunk.” Veyron barely heard them. His attention was elsewhere. On her. Lyra sat among them, relaxed in a way she never was around him. Her lips curved in amusement as she sipped her drink, a strand of raven hair slipping over her shoulder. The firelight softened her edges… w

VeyronThe room was suffocating. The candle on the nightstand burned out, leaving the scent of melted wax and a faint wisp of smoke. Veyron sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clenched into fists so tight his nails left crescent shaped lacerations on his palms. Lyra’s laugh still bounced around his head. Rivenn had charmed her, teasing, touching, even stealing glances. And Veyron watched, as the people he trusted most toyed with her attention. And she had welcomed it.Eryx growled in his mind, a low, restless rumble. They covet what is ours.Ours.Veyron’s breath shuddered out, the tension in his shoulders growing until they ached. He wanted her. More than he wanted air. Why did he yearn for her so? Why did her refusal to accept him burn so hot and deep? He didn’t need some girl. Never had. And yet, he needed her.The Mistress’s voice was a whisper in his mind, silk over steel, winding through the cracks in his resolve.Break her…He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was useless. Her