บททั้งหมดของ The Alpha Prince’s Unwanted Plus-Size Mate: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The silence following Boros’s shouted warning was heavier than the iron portcullis guarding Frost-Ridge.Julian didn't release me immediately. His hands lingered on my hips, his broad fingers pressing into the velvet of my robe with a tense, protective grip before he slowly stepped back. The heat that had filled the room only seconds ago dissolved into a sharp, bitter cold."An imperial summons," I said softly, my voice calm despite the cold knot tightening in my stomach. I stood up from the desk, smoothing down the front of my green velvet robe. "Issued by the High Arbiters.""The Arbiters don't issue regional quarantines unless a lord presents sworn evidence of treason," Julian growled, his jaw locked tight as he turned toward the door. His eyes were dark, silver storm clouds flashing with dangerous intent. "Cassian didn't just file a claim with the capital. He bribed the arbitrating heralds before the dark-steel shipment even reached the pass.""He knew I would seize the supply tra

The cold wind howling through the open window felt warm compared to the icy dread seizing my heart.I stared at the crumpled parchment in my hand, the dark red ink blurring beneath the moonlight. Shadow-Fang mercenaries. The lower water tunnels. Poisoning the mountain reservoir before noon."Clara?"Julian’s deep, sleep-roughened voice cut through the silence. The mattress shifted as he sat up, his dark shadow stretching across the stone wall. In one smooth, predatory motion, he cleared the bed sheets, his sharp silver eyes instantly locking onto my pale face and the trembling paper in my hand.He was beside me in two long strides, his bare feet silent against the cold flagstones. He didn't demand explanations; he simply reached out, his warm, heavy hand sliding over my shoulder as he looked down at the parchment."What is it, my sweet storm?" he asked, his voice dropping into that low, protective register that always grounded my racing thoughts."My father's old head of security," I w

The heavy iron gates of Frost-Ridge didn't open with their usual slow, grinding groan. They were thrown wide under the crisp, pale gold of a northern dawn, the iron chains rattling like struck chimes against the fortress walls.I stood atop the outer breastwork, my hand resting on the icy stone balustrade, watching the mist roll off the valley floor.Beneath us, eighty elite mountain riders sat mounted on broad-chested war horses, their dark-steel armor gleaming beneath fur-lined cloaks. In the center of the formation moved four iron-rimmed supply carriages—not carrying grain or tents, but carrying the fifty captured chests of Night Council dark-steel bullion, sealed under the official lead stamps of Imperial Herald Vane."The wind is turning south," Julian’s deep voice echoed beside me.I didn't turn, but I felt the scorching heat of his body before his shadow even touched mine. He stepped up to the stone ledge, dressed in his dark iron parade plate, his midnight-blue mantle pinned a

The silver parchment in my hand felt heavier than an iron ledger.I am coming to beg for your forgiveness on my knees before the High Council... and I will do whatever it takes to win you back.I stared at Cassian’s sharp, erratic hand-script until the dark ink blurred beneath the morning sun streaming through the guest suite’s tall arched windows. For six long years, I would have burned down whole cities just to hear Cassian Vance speak my name with a fraction of that urgency. I had spent countless nights sitting behind ledgers in the cold back corridors of Bloodmoon, adjusting grain subsidies and balancing weapons contracts, praying he would look past my broad waist, my thick thighs, and my quiet, serious nature to see the woman tirelessly building his future.Now, he was stripping Selene of her court titles and crawling toward the capital, offering me the very thing that had cost me my dignity.And all I felt was a cold, hollow pity."He thinks repentance is a currency he can trade

The dark parchment trembled in my hands, the dried ink of my father’s handwriting cutting into my vision like jagged iron.Do not trust the Sovereign Alphas—especially Julian Thorne. He was ordered by the Council to track you years ago...The silent air inside the archive tower felt suffocating, thick with dust and ancient rot. Every beat of my heart sounded like a muffled drum inside my ears. For months, I had allowed myself to believe that Julian was the one person in the northern realm who saw me for who I truly was—not a heavy, inconvenient she-wolf to be hidden behind ledgers, but a brilliant strategist worthy of respect, power, and genuine affection.And now, my dead father’s voice, preserved across four years of dark silence, was screaming at me that the entire foundation of my freedom was built on a calculated deception."Clara?" Julian’s deep voice shattered the stillness, low and filled with immediate concern.He took a step toward me, his broad frame casting a towering shad