Semua Bab The Kings Forbidden Mate: Bab 101 - Bab 110

The capital woke to a different kind of silence the morning after Rowan’s public trial. Banners of the silver Draven wolf flew proudly once more, but beneath the celebrations in the streets, the noble districts remained tense. Servants whispered in corridors. Minor lords exchanged guarded glances. The formal dissolution of the old law had sent shockwaves through every house, yet not all had accepted the new order.Caelan stood on the private balcony of the royal chambers, silver eyes scanning the city below. The ancient power within him had settled into a steady hum, no longer a wild surge but a constant presence. Moonlight threads wove gently through the palace stones, revealing pockets of lingering resentment and fresh realignments. Some threads glowed with genuine loyalty. Others flickered with hesitation or hidden malice.Lucien stepped behind him, strong arms wrapping around Caelan’s waist from behind. The king’s chest pressed against his back, warm and solid, the bond flaring wi

The royal procession wound its way northward under a slate-gray sky, the air growing sharper with every mile. Stoneford lay ahead—a once-thriving border village reduced to charred ruins and poisoned wells by the rebellion’s aftermath. Survivors emerged slowly from makeshift shelters, their faces gaunt with exhaustion and wary distrust. Children clutched threadbare skirts while elders watched with eyes that had seen too much loss.Caelan dismounted beside Lucien, his dark traveling cloak fluttering in the cold wind. The mating bite on his neck remained visible, a deliberate symbol that the bond would not be hidden even here, far from the capital’s watchful eyes. The ancient power hummed steadily within him, moonlight threads extending outward to sense the land’s deep wounds—blighted soil, fractured loyalties, and faint, distant threads pulling toward the northern wastes where Rowan languished in exile.Lucien’s hand rested lightly on the small of Caelan’s back, not as command but as sh

The reconstruction of Stoneford stretched into its second week under skies that grew heavier with the promise of early winter snow. Scaffolds creaked as new timber frames rose around gutted homes, and the once-blighted fields showed tentative green shoots where Caelan’s power had coaxed life back into the soil. Villagers moved with renewed purpose, yet an undercurrent of unease lingered in every conversation that hushed when the royal party passed.Caelan walked the outer fields at dawn, his breath visible in the crisp air. His dark traveling cloak was pulled tight against the cold, the silver trim catching the weak morning light. The ancient power hummed steadily within him, moonlight threads extending deep into the earth and outward toward the distant northern horizon. What they revealed troubled him: faint but persistent dark strands stretching like veins from the border packs toward the wastes where Rowan remained exiled. Whispers traveled on ravens and coded messages—old resentme

The return journey from the northern border outpost felt heavier than the ride out. Snow fell in thick, silent flakes, blanketing the road and muffling the sound of hooves and marching feet. The royal column moved with heightened vigilance—scouts riding ahead and flanks guarded by Lucien’s most trusted lycans. The ancient power in Caelan’s blood sensed the growing tension long before any scout reported it: moonlight threads stretching northward like warning veins, pulsing with darker intent.Caelan rode beside Lucien at the head of the column, his gray mare keeping pace with the king’s massive black stallion. His silver eyes were distant, focused inward on the threads that revealed more with every passing mile. The bond between them thrummed steadily, offering warmth against the biting cold and the heavier burden of what lay ahead.Lucien’s golden gaze flicked toward Caelan frequently, his powerful frame tense beneath his armor. “You’ve been quiet since we left the outpost,” he said,

The palace corridors echoed with the sound of armored boots as Lucien’s most loyal forces moved into position before dawn. Snow continued to fall heavily outside, blanketing the capital in a deceptive silence that hid the tension simmering within its walls. The emergency council’s revelations had forced swift action—three noble houses identified through Caelan’s moonlight threads as actively funneling support to the northern probe force would be confronted at first light.Caelan stood beside Lucien in the war room, maps of the capital and northern routes spread across the heavy table. His silver eyes glowed faintly with the ancient power as moonlight threads extended through the palace and beyond, revealing hidden movements and whispered conversations. The bond between them pulsed with shared resolve and the ever-present undercurrent of dark hunger that war only sharpened.Lucien’s broad frame was clad in black armor, golden eyes cold and ruthless as he studied the positions marked in