บททั้งหมดของ The Princess's Second Life : บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

The parchment lay folded beneath Elara’s pillow, its ink smudged from the number of times her fingers had traced over it. The note had been her only lead, her only thread to the shadows that haunted the palace.But tonight, she would follow it again.The palace was restless after the feast, servants moving like ghosts through dim corridors, carrying away trays and extinguishing torches. Elara slipped from her chamber wrapped in a dark cloak, the note clutched tightly in her hand. Her pulse quickened with every step, her wolf straining to break free as though it knew danger waited ahead.The note’s words repeated in her mind continuously.Dismissed—there had been dozens of servants let go in recent months. But only one had vanished so suddenly, dismissed by Lord Garron himself after whispers of disloyalty.His name had been Orrin.Elara had heard he once worked in the council wing, running errands late at night. If anyone had seen documents or overheard conversations, it would have bee

The clang of steel filled the courtyard once more. Dust rose under the pounding of boots, sweat ran down Kael’s brow, and his muscles screamed from exhaustion. Yet he refused to fall.“Again,” Darius said, voice sharp, his blade leveled at Kael’s chest.Kael gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. “You’ve already beaten me ten times today. What’s the point?”“The point is survival,” Darius replied coldly. “The enemy won’t stop after ten blows. Neither should you.”Kael tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, arms trembling. He launched forward, swinging wildly. Darius caught the strike with ease, twisted, and shoved him to the ground. The dirt scraped Kael’s skin, humiliation burning worse than pain.“Get up,” Darius commanded.Kael slammed his fist into the ground before rising. “I said teach me, not humiliate me!”For a brief moment, silence hung between them. Darius’s face was unreadable, but his eyes held a flicker of something—restraint, maybe even regret.“You think I t

The last day of the feast dawned heavy with smoke from the kitchens, the smell of spiced meats and sweet pastries drifting across the palace like a veil. Nobles bustled through the corridors, eager for one last chance to impress the Ironfang envoy before they returned to their territory.For Elara, the day was no celebration. It was a battlefield.She smoothed the folds of her silver gown, slipping into the hall with her chin high. Every smile felt sharper than a dagger, every glance a potential warning. At the high table, her parents sat flanked by the Ironfangs. Kieran lounged at the younger son’s place, grinning easily at whatever Serenya whispered into his ear. Garron sat not far from him, his broad frame and cold eyes casting a shadow across the polished silverware.Elara’s gaze lingered on him. She remembered Orrin—the dismissed servant who should have been her lead—lying cold with his throat slit. Someone had wanted her trail to end there. And Garron, with his subtle scorn and

The forest swallowed them as the Ironfang company rode east, the banners snapping in the cold morning wind. The hoofbeats of fifty riders echoed like a drumline, steady, disciplined, and suffocating. Darius kept his place just behind his father, his gaze fixed on the trail ahead. His jaw was locked so tight it ached, but still he did not let it loosen. His wolf paced restlessly inside him. Every breath of wind carried her scent—jasmine, warm spice, moonlight—her. Elara. The kiss burned still. His lips tingled with it, his chest still thundered with the feel of her pressed so close. He had sworn to resist, had sworn to keep his distance, but the moment her eyes had lifted to his and defied him—gods, he had been lost. For one reckless heartbeat, he had given in. And now he could not stop replaying it, over and over, the sound of her breath, the feel of her wolf straining toward him, the taste of her mouth. His wolf howled inside him, furious at the distance now forced between them.

The road home stretched dark and endless, trees bending overhead like twisted guardians. The Ironfang banners flapped in the wind, black and silver against the pale sky. Darius rode at the edge of the formation, silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left Oryndor’s gates. Not to the guards, not to his brother, not even to his wolf.But his wolf was far less silent.Fool, it snarled, pacing inside him. You touched her. You kissed her. You tasted what is ours—and then you walked away.Darius tightened his grip on the reins. His horse snorted, restless beneath his fists.You deny us, the wolf growled. You deny her. You deny yourself.“I protect her,” Darius muttered under his breath.His wolf snapped its teeth. You wound her.The image of Elara’s face rose unbidden—the way her lips had parted beneath his, the way her breath had caught, the way her wolf had surged to meet his. The memory was a curse, a chain, a fire that would not burn out.And