All Chapters of THE LYCAN PRINCESS THEY BURIED : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Elira's POVRonan found me in the garden the following week, a small leather folder tucked under his arm, his expression carrying the particular seriousness of a man who'd spent considerable time preparing for this exact conversation. The afternoon had turned mild, the last of the season's roses still clinging stubbornly to their blooms, and I'd taken to spending more of my free hours out here since the greenhouse no longer offered the same quiet refuge it once had."I have something for you," he said, settling onto the bench beside me. "Three candidates. I've done as much preliminary work as I could before bringing them to you — background, standing, temperament, as best I could gather it secondhand. I didn't want to waste your time with anyone who wasn't seriously worth considering."He handed me the folder, and I opened it carefully, studying the three letters inside with the same methodical attention I'd once brought to sorting herbs by their exact medicinal properties.The first

Kael's POV The letter from Ronan arrived at my territory with the ordinary courtesy of a minor Pack keeping a foreign King informed of developments discussed during his recent visit — a brief, formal update noting that the mate search had progressed to formal candidates, three names identified, visits already being arranged. It was exactly the kind of correspondence I'd expect from a man conscientiously maintaining goodwill with a neighboring power, nothing in the phrasing suggesting he understood the weight the news would carry for me specifically. I read it twice at my desk before setting it down, and found myself unable to immediately identify why the news unsettled me as much as it did. My study had gone quiet around me, the candles burning low, the ordinary business of governing my own territory suddenly feeling distant and unimportant against the small folded page in front of me. It shouldn't have troubled me at all. I had no formal claim on Elira's future, no standing beyond

Kael's POVI left the library with my composure carefully intact, and lost it entirely the moment I was alone in my own chambers.I sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, hands braced against my knees, replaying the exact sound of the melody she'd hummed — four notes, unremarkable to anyone without a lifetime of hearing them sung at bedside, in nurseries, during the quiet hours when my mother thought no one else was listening to her grief disguise itself as tenderness toward her remaining children. I could picture her clearly, sitting beside my own cradle as a small child, humming that same fragment to whichever of us couldn't settle for sleep, never once explaining where the tune came from or why it seemed to carry more weight than any ordinary lullaby should.I'd heard that song a thousand times. I could have hummed it myself without a single moment's hesitation. And Elira, who claimed no memory of anything before the age of three, who had no possible ordinary means of learni

Theron's POVI told myself, waking the following morning, that a full night's sleep would put the previous evening's unwelcome feeling into proper perspective.It didn't. If anything, the feeling had settled more firmly overnight, some quiet, stubborn certainty establishing itself in my chest that I still wasn't ready to name directly. I dressed slowly, delaying my arrival at breakfast longer than usual, some part of me half-hoping the delay might dissolve the feeling before I had to sit across from Darius again and watch it resurface.It didn't dissolve. I found myself, over breakfast, unable to stop tracking Darius's presence at the table — the careful, economical way he ate, the brief, practical exchange he shared with Elira about the day's planned activities, nothing in either of their manners suggesting anything beyond the businesslike arrangement they'd both openly described.That should have reassured me. Instead I found myself cataloging every small interaction between them wi

Elira's POVDarius found me in the small sitting room off the library on the final morning of his visit, his expression carrying none of its usual careful neutrality — something closer to genuine, if restrained, curiosity. He'd asked to speak with me privately before his planned departure that afternoon, and I'd agreed readily enough, assuming the conversation would center on the practical terms we'd already spent several days discussing."May I ask you something directly?" he said, settling into the chair across from mine without waiting for a formal invitation."Of course.""I was told, last evening, that you carry unresolved feelings for someone else within this household." His voice remained level, entirely without accusation, simply stating the information as he'd received it. "I'd prefer to address it plainly rather than proceed with negotiations built on incomplete information."I stared at him for a long moment, genuinely caught off guard. "I'm sorry — told by whom?""I don't