The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

KaelAsterion was a wound wrapped in gold.The streets gleamed too bright, the air smelled too clean — like someone scrubbed away the truth and called it holiness.Lumi wrinkled her nose. “It’s like someone tried to perfume a corpse.”Riley smirked faintly. “That’s most of civilization, kid.”She said it like a joke, but her hand hovered near her blade the whole time. She didn’t trust anything here. Not the soldiers. Not the walls. Maybe not even me.The guards were waiting. Sun-armored Lycans, ranks perfect, smiles plastic.“No werewolves beyond this gate,” their captain barked, voice full of borrowed power. “By decree of the Sun—”Riley sighed. “Does everyone here have the same script or is stupidity a group activity?”I glanced at her. “We agreed—no chaos unless necessary.”“Majesty,” she said sweetly, “I am chaos. You can’t just turn it off.”Varyn muttered, “She’s not wrong.”The captain raised his spear. “Name yourselves.”I met his gaze. “I am Kael, King of the Lycans, and this

Riley Peace never lasts. Especially not when your ex–celestial parent refuses to stay dead. The first warning wasn’t thunder. It was silence — sharp, expectant, and wrong. Then the sky cracked open, spilling gold like blood. Lumi bolted into my chamber, wild-eyed and breathless. “They’re back,” she gasped. “The shiny jerks with the light sticks!” “Morning already?” I muttered, grabbing my sword. “Guess the apocalypse didn’t get the memo about coffee first.” Kael was already in the courtyard, armor half-buckled, eyes molten with focus. When he saw me, something softened — just a little. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “I get that a lot.” “Riley—” “Relax, Majesty.” I tightened my bracer. “I’m just here to save your royal ass. Again.” Lumi crossed her arms. “Technically, mine too.” Kael exhaled. “Wonderful. A suicidal trio.” The gates shook. Beyond them, the valley blazed — not with fire, but with remnants. Soldiers of gold marched like reflections — not flesh and bl

Riley They told me it would feel natural. That the first shift after trauma would come back like breathing. Liars. All of them. Because this? This felt like trying to remember a song I used to love, only now every note burned. The air was cool, the moon high, and Lumi had fallen asleep using Kael’s cloak like it was a national resource. The campfire popped, the forest murmured, and Kael watched me like I was something both sacred and dangerous — which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely wrong. “Sure you want to try this tonight?” he asked quietly. “No,” I said. “That’s why I’m doing it.” His mouth twitched. “That’s very you.” “Terrible coping mechanism, I know.” “Effective, though.” I closed my eyes. Tried to find her — the part of me I’d locked away since Solen’s fall. At first, there was nothing. Just wind, and pain, and that whisper of fear that said you’re too broken for this now. Then— > Finally. Her voice rolled through me like thunder with teeth. My knees hit the dir

Riley Cindrel’s council chamber was designed to make people agree with it. Sunlight fell through a honeycomb of gold-latticed skylights, spilling in neat hexagons across marble that had never seen dirt. Banners hung like sermons. Every seat faced the throne dais, as if the room itself had already chosen a king and wanted applause on schedule. Lumi took one look and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a yes-man in building form.” “Accurate,” I murmured. “Try not to lick the walls; you’ll get drunk on self-importance.” Kael heard me (of course he did) and didn’t smile (of course he didn’t). His shoulders wore the quiet weight I’d started to learn: King, not just Lycan. The kind who had to make a decree and then walk it into every city because words don’t grow legs by themselves. We were here to nail Cindrel’s compliance to the floor. Again. And the Vales were already seated like a matched set of knives. Lady Serina gleamed—pearl hair, pearl smile, pearl cruelty. Beside her: Daren Vale, all

Riley Cindrel woke up cranky. You could feel it in the cobblestones — like the whole city had slept in its crown and dreamed of being the victim. Shops opened late. Priests of the "perfectly harmless sunlight" found new excuses to sweep somewhere else. Even the pigeons looked judgy. Lumi and I hit the market before dawn because apparently, revolution requires caffeine. "Ground rules," I said, tugging my jacket closed. "If Ronan tries any noon tricks, stab his cup." "With what?" she asked. "Your eyes." "Copy that." She flashed a smile that could’ve qualified as a war crime. Ronan Vale appeared right on schedule, like a golden sin with good timing. No cape (thank the gods), just that effortless grin people wear when they’ve never lost anything that mattered. He chose a wolf-owned cart — decent choice — the one with coffee strong enough to confess for you. He bowed. To me. To Lumi. Even to the barista, who didn’t bow back and handed him a cup that looked like liquid defiance.