Todos los capítulos de THE LYCAN PRINCESS THEY BURIED : Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

Elira's POV Ronan had already shown me the letter two days earlier, quietly, in the privacy of his study, giving me the chance to explain before he decided what to make of it. I'd told him plainly that I hadn't written it — that the handwriting, close as it was, carried small inconsistencies I recognized immediately as forgery rather than my own hand, the particular slant of certain letters slightly too deliberate, too careful, the way handwriting looks when someone is copying rather than simply writing. The sentiment inside it bore no resemblance to anything I'd actually said or felt, and I told him so plainly, watching his face for whatever reaction might follow. He'd studied the letter for a long moment, then studied me, and something in his expression had suggested he wanted to believe me even before I finished explaining. "I believe you," he'd said finally, quiet, though something uncertain still lingered beneath the words. "I don't know who wrote it. But I don't think it was

Ronan's POVI found Cassian in the training yard an hour after the incident in the main hall, still visibly rattled despite his best efforts to appear otherwise, running through forms with more force than precision, the way men do when they're trying to work something uncomfortable out of their own bodies."You had no right," I said, keeping my voice low, though the anger beneath it was harder to contain than I would have liked. "I asked you to bring me the letter privately. I never gave you permission to make a spectacle of it in front of half the household.""I thought people deserved to know," Cassian said, though something in his voice had lost the certainty it usually carried. "I thought—""You thought wrong." I cut him off, unwilling to let him finish whatever justification he'd prepared. "Whatever you believe about Elira, she deserved the chance to answer that privately, the same way I gave her the chance two days ago. Instead you turned it into theater."He didn't argue furthe

Selene's POVI retreated to my room immediately after leaving the dining hall, my hands still trembling, though not entirely for the reasons I'd allowed the table to believe.I sat at my dressing table for a long time, staring at my own reflection without really seeing it, replaying Lord Theron's voice cutting through the room with a clarity that still made something cold settle low in my stomach. The candles had burned low by the time I finally set down the handkerchief I'd been twisting between my fingers, the performance of distress no longer serving any audience but myself.*I'd simply like to understand the facts before this household decides, once again, exactly who to blame.*It shouldn't have unsettled me as deeply as it had. A single question, reasonably phrased, from a man with no obligation to take either side of a family dispute that wasn't truly his concern. I'd weathered worse scrutiny before, managed considerably sharper doubts with nothing more than a well-timed tear a

Kael's POVThe council's response to my petition arrived later than promised, though not so late that I'd entirely given up expecting it — nearly three weeks after I'd first requested access to the estate's sealed archive, a runner arrived from the council chambers bearing a small, carefully bound collection of documents and a note explaining that this represented the full extent of what the archive contained relevant to my inquiry. Halvard delivered the package to my chambers personally, apologizing for the delay, explaining that the sealed records had required authorization from three separate council members before anyone was permitted to disturb them.I waited until I was alone in my chambers that evening before opening it, some old instinct insisting the contents deserved privacy before I let myself react to whatever they revealed. I set the package on the desk and stared at it for a long moment before finally breaking the wax seal, aware, even in that small pause, that whatever

Ronan's POVI didn't sleep at all that night, the silence in the garden replaying itself over and over until dawn finally broke grey and unwelcome through my chamber windows.I'd asked her a simple question. Do you still think of me as your brother. I'd expected an answer, even a difficult one — anger, perhaps, or careful, diplomatic reassurance offered more out of habit than genuine feeling. What I hadn't expected, what I still couldn't fully process even after hours of turning it over in the dark, was silence. Complete, unhurried, entirely without cruelty, and somehow more devastating than any words she could have chosen instead.I understood, lying awake through the small hours, that I'd spent the past several weeks operating under a fundamental misunderstanding of what was actually happening between us.I'd told myself, over and over, that Elira was grieving. That she was punishing me, in whatever quiet way trauma allowed her to punish someone she still loved beneath the careful d