Semua Bab THE LOST WEREWOLF PRINCESS: MATED TO THE RIVALS: Bab 61 - Bab 70

KAIA'S POV: The Guen Pack courtyard has never looked more like a storybook. Golden lanterns hang from branches like stars caught in leaves, casting soft light over the crowd. It's so cuteeee. The air buzzes with energy, something between celebration and suspense. I stand in the center beside Rowan, surrounded by my people, yet somehow feeling like an outsider in my own skin. Rowan raises a hand, commanding silence without effort. His voice rings clear. “Tonight, we welcome back our warriors. But more than that… we reintroduce the blood of our blood, the Moonchild of legend. My sister. The daughter of Mavilla and Donga. Kaia Guen.” A ripple spreads through the crowd. Applause, murmurs, stunned silence. I feel them all like pinpricks under my skin. I wish he didn't do this though.My fingers curl into fists at my sides. I glance at Axel, standing off to the right with Ezra and Lucien. His jaw is tight. Kai stands at my left, rigid, unreadable. His presence steadies me,

KAIA'S POV: Rowan’s summons comes with little warning. A mind-link ripples through the pack midmorning, his voice quiet but heavy. Council chambers. Ten minutes. Bring Kaia. I’m still brushing out my hair when Ezra pokes his head into my room, shirt half-buttoned and smirking like he has a secret. “Your royal summons, princess,” he says. “Better not keep the king waiting.”“I hate when you call me that,” I mutter, but the truth is, the butterflies it brings are confusing. Warm and annoying all at once. Ezra tosses me a protein bar and shrugs. “You’re one of us now. Might as well get used to royal treatment.” One of us. The words stick to my ribs like honey. Hehe. I'm one of them. The council chambers are quieter than I expected. An oval table of aged wood fills the room, with Elders seated in worn, high-backed chairs. Rowan stands at the head, his posture rigid but calm. I take the seat beside him, feeling like a child in someone else’s fortress.“This is Kaia,” Rowan s

KAIA'S POV: The fire is always the same. Crimson flames licking the edges of a dying forest. Ash raining like snow. A single wolf howling at the sky, silhouetted against a blood-red moon.I wake up gasping. Sweat clings to my back, and the sheets are tangled around my legs like vines. My pulse thuds like war drums in my ears. My fingertips spark faintly with that telltale shimmer, seer magic, chaotic and untrained. I throw the covers off and stagger to the window, breathing in the cold predawn air. The horizon is quiet, no flames, no blood. Just pine trees swaying gently and the faint hum of crickets. Still, the image clings to me like smoke.This wasn’t just a dream. NMy powers hum louder than usual, like something ancient just stirred inside me and is now demanding to be heard.By breakfast, I’ve made up my mind. I need answers.***The Elder’s Hall is quieter than usual, the scent of herbs and parchment thick in the air. Only one of them greets me, Elder Marcella, the one

KAIA'S POV: The packhouse is unusually still for a late morning. No laughter rings through the halls, no sparring echoes from the training yard. The air is thick with something strange; a warning, maybe, or the weight of what's coming. I stand on the balcony outside my room, staring out into the gray mist rolling over the treetops. The Guen Pack grounds below crawl with warriors. Even the scent in the air has changed. It feels fierce and on edge, like the forest knows danger is coming. Ezra’s voice startles me. “They’re here.” I turn sharply. “Who?” “Nightowl envoy. Came under a banner of truce.” He doesn’t smile. “Rowan’s summoning the council. You should come.” They really have some nerve to boldly step into our territory with their banner. Bloody fools. By the time I step into the council hall, the room is tense, filled with snarling energy barely contained beneath leather armor and guarded gazes. The Elders are sitting with stiff backs, and Rowan is standing at the

KAIA'S POV: The sky looks like iron-gray the morning of the final war council. The Guen Pack house, usually humming with life, is unusually silent. Even the trees seem to brace themselves, their leaves whispering secrets I’m too afraid to hear. They have probably seen the future. Who knows? I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the leather straps of my training armor. It’s not the sleek ceremonial kind worn for council meetings. It’s heavier, reinforced with silver-threaded plating. The kind that is meant for battle. My fingers tremble as they reach for the pendant resting on the nightstand: the Guen family crest. A wolf entwined with a crescent moon. The metal feels cold in my palm.A knock sounds and Ezra calls out. "You good?" he asks, poking his head in with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes."Define good," I mutter. He steps in, his usual swagger dimmed. "You know, when you were gone, Rowan used to stand in that spot you’re in now. Just staring. Li