Semua Bab BARBARIAN: Court Of Thorns And Roses.: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Adrian stood at the edge of the lake long after the moon had climbed high.The water was still. Too still. It reflected the sky like a sheet of dark glass, broken only by the faint ripple of night insects skimming the surface. He should have found peace here. He usually did. But tonight, his chest felt tight, like something was pressing down on it from the inside.It had been days.Too many days.No word. No signal. No presence brushing against his mind.Caierre.Adrian clenched his jaw and looked away from the water, his gaze drifting toward the distant outline of the Silver Mark Citadel. Even from here, it felt haunted. Old stone. Old power and old secrets. Everything about that place made his skin crawl.He hadn’t heard anything since the last time he spoke to Caierre. Not even a whisper or a single flicker through the bond they shared as packmates. It wasn’t normal. Caierre was many things, but careless wasn’t one of them. If he was silent, it meant something was wrong.Or very w

Caierre pushed himself up slowly.Not in a rush. He had learned the hard way that rushing only brought pain. His palms pressed into the edge of the bed, fingers trembling as his weight shifted. The moment his feet touched the floor, a sharp ache shot up his legs, settling deep in his bones.He sucked in a breath through his teeth.The pain was still there. Everywhere. But it was different now. Dull. Heavy. Bearable.That alone felt strange.He stood there for a while, waiting for the room to stop spinning. The healer’s chamber was quiet, washed in pale morning light that slipped in through the narrow window. The stone floor was cold under his feet. His body felt too light and too heavy at the same time, like it wasn’t fully his yet.Angel Caierre hovered near the bed, watching him closely. “You shouldn’t be standing,” he said. His voice was soft, worried. “You just woke up.”“I’m fine,” Caierre muttered.Spiky Horn Caierre leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re lying already,”

Caierre was sitting when Grant walked in.He had not moved for a long time. Not because he could not, but because he did not see the need to. His back rested against the headboard, his legs stretched slightly forward, his hands lying still on his thighs. The healer had already left hours ago, yet the smell of herbs still clung to the air. Bitter. Earthy. Familiar.His body still hurt.Not the sharp pain from before, not the kind that stole breath and made the world spin, but a deep ache that lived under his skin. His ribs felt tight when he breathed in. His shoulders burned faintly. His legs were heavy, like they belonged to someone else. Still, the pain was bearable. He had lived with worse.The door creaked open but Caierre did not turn immediately, he was guessing it's probably another healer.“Caierre.”Grant’s voice filled the room, calm but cautious. The way one spoke when they did not know what they were about to walk into.Caierre turned his head slowly and looked at him.Gran

Esmeralda was in her chambers when Fredrick arrived.She was seated on her chair, her back straight, her legs crossed slowly at the ankles. The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against the ears. The fire burned low at the corner, not because she needed warmth, but because she liked control. Everything in the room was placed exactly how she wanted it. Nothing was out of order. Nothing dared to be.She did not turn when the door opened.Fredrick stepped inside and closed it behind him without a sound. He knew better than to announce himself loudly. He walked forward and stopped a few steps behind her, then dropped to one knee, his head bowed.“My lady,” he said.The words echoed softly in the room.Esmeralda did not answer right away.She let the silence stretch. She enjoyed it. Silence made people restless. Silence made them honest.She lifted one finger and rested it against her lips, as if thinking. Then she spoke, her voice calm, smooth, and slow..“You are late.”Fre

Esmeralda sat by the tall window of her chambers, the porcelain teacup warm against her fingers. The afternoon sun poured in softly, casting long shadows across the floor. Outside, the Silvermark gardens were quiet, almost peaceful. Too peaceful for a pack standing on the edge of chaos which she was about to create.She took a slow sip.Chamomile. Light honey. Just enough warmth to settle the nerves.This was her favorite hour of the day. When the world slowed down. When people believed nothing dangerous could happen under the sun.That was when she liked to think.Her gaze drifted toward the courtyard below, watching servants move about their duties. Everyone had a role to play. Some knew it. Some didn’t. The ones who didn’t were always the easiest to use.A soft knock sounded at the door.“My lady,” her maid said gently as she entered. “Elder Herold is here to see you.”Esmeralda’s hand paused midair.Her uncle.She placed the cup down carefully, making sure not to spill a single dr