Bound to the Enemy’s Bed のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

The circle burned with ritual fire.Smoke curled upward in silver threads, carrying the scent of cedar, sage, and blood. The runes etched into the stone gleamed faintly, as though the gods themselves leaned close to watch.Draven stood at the center, golden eyes fixed, his chest rising slow and steady. His stillness was not weakness—it was dominance honed to a blade’s edge. Every wolf gathered around the circle felt it, the tension pulling at their spines until more than one dropped their gaze, unable to meet it.Across from him, the first challenger prowled.Kael Redfang, a warrior known for brute strength and reckless courage. His broad frame was corded with muscle, his hands scarred from years of combat. He spat once onto the stone before him, his lip curling as he circled.“You’re no Alpha,” Kael sneered. His voice carried, goading, meant to stir the crowd. “You’re a tyrant, clinging to power with fear. If you need a healer’s bond to hold your place, then you don’t deserve either.

The flames around the trial circle had not dimmed since Corvin’s defeat. If anything, they burned higher, restless, as though the gods themselves demanded more blood before they would let the night end.Draven stood in the center, chest heaving, blood still dripping from the gash across his shoulder. He had not cleaned it. He hadn’t needed to. He wanted them to see it—that even bloodied, even pressed to the edge, he had not fallen.But in the silence that followed, something changed.The next challenger did not step forward.Instead, a ripple of whispers moved through the crowd like a gust of cold wind. Wolves leaned toward each other, murmuring, eyes shifting not toward Draven… but toward her.Toward Elaria.Her heart thudded, a pulse too loud in the back of her ears. She sat straighter, searching the faces around her, and when her gaze locked on her father’s, she knew.He had orchestrated this.The elder’s staff struck the stone.“By law, the Trial of the Heir may test more than too

A stifling stillness rumbled through the council chamber. The sigils of Kaelith's forefathers were engraved into the stone walls, which appeared to observe with icy indifference as the pack gathered under the weight of a law that was older than any of them. With their iron sconces gutted, the torches cast shadows that danced across the assembled wolves like specters of judgment.Elaria's pulse pounded beneath her skin as she stood in the center of the circle. Everyone's eyes were on her, some scornful, some cautious, some subtly sympathetic but too shy to express it. And above them all, her father, Veylen Vayne, presided with a calm, poisonous authority, as if this moment had been written by his hand from the very beginning.“The Trial of Blood and Shadow begins,” Veylen declared, his voice echoing like a blade striking stone. “Alpha Draven Kaelith stands accused of corrupting the line of succession. The child carried by Elaria Vayne must be tested. If unworthy, the line ends. The

The hush broke the instant Veylen's shadow moved past the threshold. As if the walls themselves had collapsed beneath the strain of conflict, the clang of steel and the screams of wolves flooded into the council chamber.Elaria’s blood roared in her ears. Her hand still burned where Draven’s grip steadied her, but her father’s memory burned hotter. Veylen’s words had cut deep—snuffing out the fire of your father’s heart—and the echo of them lingered like poison.She jerked free of Draven’s touch before she realized it. The sudden absence made the air between them heavy.He said, "Elaria—" but she had already started to move.With claws pricking under her fingers as her chest swelled with the need to hunt, her wolf rushed at the borders of her flesh. To find Veylen. To end him.She flung the council doors wide. Like a vision of the end of the world, the battleground stretched out in front of her. Under siege, the outside walls of the citadel had broken; smoke seeped in through the op

The stronghold was too quiet.Silence should have felt like compassion after the craziness of the night, but instead it had a brittle edge, like a sword ready to break.Elaria walked through the hallways, her body still bruised from combat, her steps heavy with fatigue. Each echo of her boots on the stone evoked recollections of screams, and the stench of flames clung to her skin. However, she wasn't particularly uneasy about the ghosts of the deceased.It was the living.Eyes followed her wherever she went. While some dropped their heads in deference, others stayed too long, weighing her and asking questions. The whispers caused the air to change, and she followed Veylen. We nearly lost more lives because of her. She is the daughter of her father.She could hear the words without them being stated out loud. The smells of wolves and the rigidity of their shoulders betrayed mistrust. And like your father, Veylen's taunt bit into her ribs like a worm digging deeper.The air grew