جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 90

Dustan's POVI had been watching her for the better part of an hour.Elara sat in the rocking chair by the window, her legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her lap. She was humming—actually humming—a soft, lilting melody that would get on anybody's nerves. Her hair was still singed at the edges, her clothes still bore the faint smell of smoke, but she looked... uncharacteristically happy. Like she didn't have a care in the world.It was unnerving.The maids had tried to insist she change out of her charred clothes, but she had waved them away with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. They had tried to coax her into a bath, to clean the soot from her skin, but she had refused with a polite but firm "I'm fine, thank you."And now she sat there, reading one of my political science books, as if she hadn't just set her own room on fire.I couldn't make sense of it.The guards had reported the fire as an accident—a candle knocked over, a curtain catching flame. But I knew better. I

Kael's POVI moved with the current of common wolves and beggars, letting myself be carried along like driftwood on a river. The palace guards herded us towards the eastern courtyard, where long tables had been set up with bread and stew. The smell of food wafted through the air, and around me, the commoners murmured with gratitude.But my stomach was closed.I took the bowl of stew when it was offered. My fingers curled around the rough ceramic. I lifted it to my lips, pretending to drink, but the liquid never touched my tongue. My eyes were elsewhere—scanning, cataloging, memorizing. One of the many reasons why I was at the capital of the largest werewolf kingdom. Two guards at the eastern gate. One at the northern archway. Three patrolling the perimeter of the courtyard.I lowered the bowl, my gaze drifting to the windows above. The architecture was a maze of corridors and hidden passages. I had studied the blueprints for years, but seeing it in person was different. The angles,

Kael's POVI stopped outside the glass door, my hand frozen mid-reach for the handle.The sounds coming from within were unmistakable. Low moans. Breathless gasps. The wet, rhythmic sounds of a mouth on flesh. My stomach churned, and my wolf snarled with disgust.What the hell am I doing here?I should have turned around and walked away. I should have pretended I hadn't heard anything, that I hadn't been summoned, that I was just a simple farmer who had gotten lost in the labyrinthine corridors of the palace.But I couldn't. Ruth had marked me. She had claimed me as her personal guard. If I disobeyed, if I showed even a hint of defiance, she would suspect something. And suspicion in this palace was going to blow my cover. It would bring my life long mission to a premature end. I took a breath, steeling myself, and raised my feet nevertheless to turn back. Straight of the door and out of this goddamned palace. But before my knuckles could touch the wood, her voice called out from wi

Kael's POV“ I am, I am so sorry my Lady! I didn't mean to hurt you. I am extremely sorry. Please forgive me!” I moved away from Ruth's bed as quickly as I could without appearing to flee, my jaw clenched, my hands trembling with barely contained rage.The taste of her still lingered in the air around me. The scent of her perfume. The memory of her touch. The humiliating commands she had issued while I stood there, helpless, forced to obey.“I will make her pay for this,” I swore silently, my wolf snarling in agreement. “We will make all of them pay.”But before I could escape into the shadows of the corridor, her voice rang out behind me."Ronan!"I froze, my heart sinking. I turned slowly, forcing my expression into one of submission."Yes, my Lady?"She stood in the doorway of her glass chambers, her robe hastily tied around her naked body, her hair disheveled. Her eyes were blazing with a mixture of irritation and desire."Where do you think you're going?" she demanded. "I didn't

Dustan's POVThe night air hit my face as I slipped through the back gates. The cloth was clutched in my hand, the scent of the potion still burning in my nostrils. I had recognized it instantly—the sharp, bitter undertone of nightshade, the earthy root of the moonflower, the distinctive tang of something I hadn't smelled in over a decade.It was her recipe. I would recognize it anywhere. It smelled like her. My old nanny. The woman who had raised me when my mother was too busy with courtly duties, who had taught me to read and write and fight. The woman who had been in our family since time immemorial.The woman who had been driven out by my uncle on trumped-up charges of treason, banished to the outer territories with nothing but the clothes on her back.I had been twelve years old when they took her away. I had cried for weeks. And I had never seen her since.But I had never forgotten her. Or her skills.The masking potion was her specialty. She had brewed it for the royal family