All Chapters of MATED TO MY BROTHER'S ENEMY : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Kael Celebrate VictoryAs the sun rose over the valley, Prince Kael was at the edge of his camp, looking toward the castle walls with a spyglass. Bound to two wooden posts, silver chains encircled his ankles and wrists, and Marcus trailed behind him. The corrupt knight's head fell forward, mind caught between sleep and wakefulness by the alchemical poison flowing through his veins.Kael grumbled to no one in particular, "Nice morning," then added, "Perfect weather for a family reunion."He dropped the spyglass and went to observe his prisoner. Encircling Marcus's neck, the silver collar shimmered softly, and its carved runes were actively altering the knight's ideas and emotions. Honorable resolve gave way to perplexed allegiance to whatever master held his chain.Kael whispered, "Are you awake, Sir Marcus?Marcus's head rose slowly; his eyes were focused with obvious difficulty. His voice croaked as he said, "Where? Where am I?""Safe. Guarded. Just where you must be." Kael approach

Mate Bond SufferingLyra stumbled in the Great Hall of the castle, her knees striking stone as fire swept across her chest. The feeling of burning metal searing her flesh was authentic; the agony was so great that the boundaries of her vision flared to white.Mira dashed to get her, her hands floating above Lyra's writhing body, and said, "My lady!" "What's going on?""Marcus," Lyra shouted, grabbing at the fiery pain. "They're torturing him."Nobles and servants encircled them, crude curiosity shiningly bright. Pale with awareness, Lady Morwyn hunched next to Lyra. "The mate bond. You can sense his anguish."The link underwent another wave of agony, not physical this time but rather something more profound. Lyra's thoughts were permeated with corruption like poisoned water, with doubting and desperate murmurs that weren't hers."Back off," she snapped at it, her voice strained with anguish. "I can't contain whatever is coming through the bond."Still, as she spoke this, her sympathe

Prison PlanningLyra pressed her spine up against the stone, cold as a witch’s heart, hands splayed flat on the pitted wall. She stretched her senses out, trying to feel the pulse of the castle, reaching for any flicker of hope. The heavy oak door—yeah, the one they’d slammed shut after her last stunt, stood between her and the world. At this point, her “rooms” felt about as welcoming as a wolf’s jaws.Six guards out there. She could taste their feelings on the air: a nasty cocktail of obligation and pity, with a sour dash of shame. Nobody liked locking up their princess. Too bad. Outside, the castle was wound tight, nerves everywhere. Servants kept bustling, heads down, pretending not to notice the panic thickening each hour, like a fog that just wouldn't lift.“Mira.” Lyra kept her voice low, barely more than a breath. Her maid sat by the window, doing a half-baked job pretending to mend a gown. She’d stabbed that same patch of cloth so many times it was embroidery by now.Mira glan

Council EmergencyElena didn’t bother with knocking; she just barreled into the council chamber, boots still muddy, hair wild from the night ride. She looked like she’d fought a windstorm and barely won. Right on her heels came Gareth and Edmund, both looking like they’d swallowed a hornet, grim, grumpy, and very much awake against their will. The alarm bells had yanked the whole castle out of bed, and now the halls swarmed with half-dressed lords and ladies, all grumbling and clutching at silk robes.King Aldwin was hunched over the war table, candles dripping everywhere, maps in disarray. Guy looked like he hadn’t slept since last winter. His eyes were ringed in black, and his voice sounded like gravel. “Elena. What’s the news?”She didn’t waste time. “Everyone’s Ravens, Your Majesty. Every lord, every greasy merchant, every guild bigwig, Kael’s got them all drooling over his so-called ‘royal wedding of the new age.’” She started slapping down parchments, each one stamped with some p

The Gathering StormJust before dawn, the whole valley buzzed, like you could almost feel it, that weird static when something’s about to blow up. Three groups all creeping in at once, none of them knowing the others are this close. From the east? Marcus’s bunch, tearing through the woods, hooves thudding softly thanks to strips of cloth wrapped around the horses’ legs. North side, you got Princess Lyra and her castle guards, all lined up neat, trying to look intimidating even though she’s got these creepy scars glowing faintly across her skin. And, oh, from the south: the nobles. Bunch of clueless rich folks, swanning in with their fancy carriages, totally out of their depth. Like lambs to the slaughter, honestly.Sir Lucas pulls up at the treeline, fist in the air, everyone freezing. They’re peeking through the branches at Kael’s camp sprawled out below, straight-up nightmare fuel. Torches swirling in freaky patterns around the altar, guards marching around like they’ve been brain