บททั้งหมดของ The Princess's Second Life : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The grand halls of Mooncrest still echoed with the remnants of the feast. Tapestries hung heavy against the stone walls, the scent of smoke and spice lingering faintly in the air. Yet the celebration was over, replaced by the sober work of governance. The morning sun cast long beams across the council chamber, illuminating the polished table and the maps that lay scattered across it.Elara stepped into the chamber with her head held high, her braid tight against her back, her blue dress swaying softly with each measured step. Every noble eye turned toward her, curiosity sparking in the lines of their faces. She had been here before in stolen glances from the doorway or whispers beyond the walls, but never like this. This time, she was not a shadow. She was a presence.Her father sat at the head of the long oak table, his silver-streaked hair catching the light. Alpha Thorne’s gaze fell on her immediately, sharp and assessing, but not unkind. Beside him, her mother, Lady Selene, sat wi

Mooncrest castle had never felt so stifling. The corridors stretched long and glittering with candlelight, servants bowed as Elara passed, courtiers whispered behind lace sleeves — but it all pressed on her like chains of gold.Since the Ironfang delegation had left, the air of the keep shifted. Whispers carried of the golden heir, Kieran, who had charmed the council, the generals, even some of her cousins. A marriage to him would cement Mooncrest’s borders and, they said, protect them from greater threats.But every time the words reached Elara’s ears, her stomach knotted.She sat in the solar, gazing out at the courtyard below where the autumn leaves drifted across the stones. It was there that Serenya appeared — radiant as ever, her silken gown trailing behind her like water. Her smile was as warm as the sun, but Elara knew better than to trust the shine.“Elara,” Serenya said sweetly, folding herself into the chair beside her without invitation. “You’ve been so quiet since the fea

The sun had only just risen when the courier returned to Mooncrest. His boots were caked with dust from the long journey, his face weary, but Elara’s eyes locked on the sealed parchment in his hand. Dark wax pressed with a crest she had come to recognize too well — the Ironfang sigil.Her pulse quickened. She dismissed the servant who delivered it, bolting the chamber door behind her before sinking onto the edge of her bed. For a moment, she only stared at it, her fingers hovering just above the seal.It could be nothing. It could be everything.Her hands shook as she finally broke the wax. The parchment unfolded with a faint crackle, Darius’s strong, spare handwriting slashing across the page.Elara,I received your words. Kael’s growth honors your family — do not let him falter. As for you, keep walking boldly in those council halls. You belong there more than any of them know.I cannot say more. Not yet. But remember this — you are not forgotten.—DariusThe words were brief, calcu

The air in the council chamber was thick with the scent of ink, wax, and sharpened quills. Scrolls littered the long oak table, while nobles and advisors crowded the benches, their voices rising in muted conversation. For weeks, Elara had slipped quietly into these sessions, watching, listening, learning. Now, she sat straighter than ever, her blue dress modest yet commanding, her braid pulled tight. The parchment before her bore the neat lines of her own notes—an invisible armor she had forged for herself in the silence of her chambers.When her father entered, the chatter dulled at once. Alpha Thorne strode to the head of the table, his silver-streaked hair gleaming under the lantern light, his expression set in stone. Elara’s mother followed at a measured pace, her calm presence softening the edges of the room.The meeting began with routine reports—harvest tallies, trade disputes, patrol records. Elara’s quill scratched in quiet rhythm as she noted the patterns, the gaps in the re

The Ironfang fortress had never felt so restless. Whispers clung to its stone halls like smoke—every passing soldier, every hushed servant’s voice spoke of the same thing. Darius. The forgotten son, the shadowed brother, the one who should have been nothing but now commanded attention he had not asked for.Kieran was the loudest whisper.Darius heard it in the sly remarks that slid beneath his brother’s honeyed tongue. Heard it in the questions disguised as concern, in the laughter that came too easily when soldiers jested about shadows raising armies. Kieran had always been skilled at this game—bleeding poison without staining his own hands.And now, Garron’s name threaded through the smoke as well, spoken with sharp unease. The lord had dared feed the court’s suspicions, daring to throw Darius’s name into the fire. Darius made a mental note: Garron would need to be dealt with, but not yet.Timing was everything.The council laughed at the rumors. His father scoffed. But Kieran was n