All Chapters of The Princess's Second Life : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The chamber smelled of steel and leather, the faint tang of smoke from the fire that burned low in the hearth. Elara walked past him, every step deliberate, her wolf howling with the nearness of her mate. She turned, meeting his gaze head-on.Kieran’s laughter echoed down the corridor, sharp and golden, dripping arrogance. Elara froze where she stood, heart hammering so hard it rattled her ribs. Inside the chamber, Darius’s body went rigid, wolf bristling.For one wild, reckless heartbeat, Elara thought he might drag her to him anyway, claim her with the bite that their wolves screamed for. And a part of her wanted it—wanted Kieran to walk in and see the bond sealed, to watch his victory crumble to dust in his hands.But Darius’s self-control was a fortress. With a sharp movement, he stepped back into the shadows, voice low and cutting. “Go. Now.”Elara’s breath caught. “Darius—”“Go.” His eyes burned, molten gold locked onto hers. She understood then: it wasn’t rejection. It was rest

The palace woke slow and sour the morning after the attempt. Servants moved with too-careful steps, eyes flicking to doorways as if someone might emerge from the shadows. Even the birds seemed to speak in halting notes, as though afraid to sing too loud for fear the night would answer.Elara had not slept. She had paced the floor of her chamber until dawn, replaying the narrow miss: the flash of steel, the hot air of the assassin’s breath, the way the blade had sliced her cloak and not skin by the merest whisper of chance. The knowledge of how close she had come to death burned under her skin like a brand.Darius had saved her, silent as a storm. But the question gnawed at her — who had sent the blade?She had thought Kieran and Garrison. Those two were the obvious monsters in the tale, hands stained with ambition. But when she replayed the night, a smaller detail kept tugging: the way the assassin moved with an unfamiliar ease across the palace paths, the way he paused at the east wi

The council chamber smelled faintly of smoke and iron, though no fire burned in the hearth. Shadows clung to the corners like gossiping spirits, watching as Lord Garron stood before the throne. His voice was smooth, practiced, yet there was something in the way he carried himself—too calm, too careful—that made Elara’s wolf bristle.“You cannot hold me accountable for the actions of rogues,” Garron said, bowing low. “If assassins slipped past your guards, it was by no command of mine.”Murmurs rippled through the room. Kael slammed his fist against the table. “And yet, the blade carried your house’s crest.”Gasps. All eyes turned back to Garron.Elara studied him closely. His hands were steady, his eyes sharp with wounded dignity. Too steady. Too sharp. A man accused of treachery should have flinched. Instead, he wore the mask of innocence like a second skin.Her father’s voice cut through the noise, heavy with judgment. “Whether by your command or your negligence, Garron, your name i

The moonlight bathed the balcony in silver when Serenya slipped into the shadows. Kieran was already there, leaning against the rail, a glass of wine in hand.“You’re late,” he murmured, not looking at her.She pouted, stepping close. “Your guards watch me like hawks. If I’m caught, my father will have my head.”Kieran smirked, brushing a strand of her golden hair aside. “Then be quicker next time.”Her heart fluttered—stupid, traitorous thing. She’d adored him since they were children, always chasing the golden heir’s smile. She thought he saw her now, thought she mattered. But when his lips brushed hers, his eyes were cold, calculating, as though she were nothing but another pawn.“Remember your part,” he whispered against her mouth. “Stay close to Elara. Keep her talking. Find out where her loyalties lie.”Serenya’s throat tightened, but she nodded. Anything, if it meant Kieran’s favor.The next morning, Elara was summoned to her parents’ solar again. Her father’s stern gaze and he

The courtyard smelled of steel and sweat, faint echoes of Kael’s near-death still lingering in the stones. The training yard had been scrubbed clean, but Elara swore she could still see the shadow of blood where her brother had fallen.She lingered at the edge now, cloak pulled tight, watching Kael pace before Darius like an eager pup before an old wolf.“You have to train me,” Kael blurted, his voice carrying in the cool morning air.Darius didn’t pause in his work. He ran a whetstone down the length of his sword, golden eyes fixed on the blade as if Kael’s words hadn’t even reached him. The rasp of stone on steel was the only answer“I mean it,” Kael pressed. “You saw what happened. If you hadn’t been there, I’d be a corpse. That can’t happen again. Not to me. Not to Elara.At her name, Darius’s jaw twitched—but he said nothing.Kael threw his arms wide, frustration rolling off him in waves. “You’re the strongest fighter I’ve ever seen. You could make me more than… this.” His voice