Chapter 75 HER LYCAN

Chapter 75 HER LYCAN
Valen woke to her absence, leaving a hollow where something vital had been, as if the night had reached into his tent and taken her soundlessly.
His hand moved across the furs, finding nothing; no warmth, no slow breath, no trace of her.
He stared at the low curve of the tent ceiling for a long moment, not because he did not understand what had happened, but because he understood it too well.
She had gone, chosen to leave him.
He pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed, already knowing what he would find before he stepped outside.
The camp was stirring, men moving through familiar routines, voices low and steady, all of it carrying on as if nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
He stepped into the cold and scanned the ground once before crouching, his fingers brushing the earth where the prints cut clean through the dirt.
The prints were Cairo’s, deep and unmistakable, each step placed with a purpose that did not waver.
There was no hesitation in the stride, no break in the pattern, no sign of doubt or second thought, only a straight line leading away from the camp as if the path had been decided long before the sun rose.
Toward the castle.
Valen rose slowly, his jaw tightening as something heavy settled into his chest, something that burned steadily instead of flaring and dying.
One of his men approached at a run.
“My lord, the woman.”
“I know,” Valen said, cutting him off without looking at him. “She’s gone.”
The man faltered, then nodded quickly. “We tracked the beast. The prints head straight for...”
“I know where they lead.”
“She left before dawn,” another said. “No one saw her go, not even the night watch.”
Valen’s mouth curved faintly.
“That’s because she didn’t want to be seen.”
Aeden stepped in beside him, his gaze dropping briefly to the tracks before returning to Valen, already reading the situation for what it was.
“She’s gone for him.”
Valen did not answer.
“This is exactly what he wants.”
Valen straightened, turning his head just enough to meet him, his eyes steady, his control intact in a way that made it far more dangerous.
“She’s there, I can feel it.” He closed his eyes. “It doesn’t feel... right.”
“And if you charge now,” Aeden said, his voice low and deliberate, “you give him everything he planned for.”
Valen’s hands flexed once at his sides, the only outward sign of the pressure building beneath his skin, because every instinct in him was already moving ahead of them, already at the castle gates, already tearing them down piece by piece.
“She doesn’t have time for careful plans.”
“No one ever does in war,” Aeden replied grimly.
Aeden was not wrong, but before he could answer, a horn sounded across the valley, long and low. The sound carried with it the arrival of something that would soon test his patience.
A column of riders crested the rise, banners snapping in the wind, their formation tight and disciplined.
Aeden’s expression shifted.
“The Goodhearts have finally caught up with us.”
Valen watched them approach, his expression unreadable as their leader broke ahead of the group. James Goodheart had arrived, followed closely by his daughter, Brenda.
She sat astride her horse like she had been born to it, her gaze swept the camp once before settling on Valen with a steadiness that did not waver.
“I heard there would be blood,” she said as she dismounted with a practiced grace. “I didn’t intend to miss it.”
James, her father, stepped forward.
“Valen. I see you’ve begun without us.”
“You took your time.”
“A war worth fighting is worth arriving prepared for,” he replied, his tone smooth. “When this is done, we will speak of what comes next. You will marry my daughter. It is time to secure your line.”
Valen’s gaze flicked between them, his expression giving nothing away.
“I won’t take my bride to war.”
Brenda did not flinch.
“If you think I came here to stand behind your men and watch, then you don’t understand what I am.”
Her father’s mouth hardened.
“She is not something delicate. She is a pureblood lycan, and she will fight better than most of your men.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Valen replied. “That doesn’t mean I want her here.”
Aeden stepped closer, his voice low enough that only Valen could hear.
“You lose them now, you lose half your army.”
Valen exhaled once through his nose, the decision settling into place not because he cared about alliances in that moment, but because he needed every man standing between him and the king.
“Fight if you want,” he said at last. “Just don’t get in my way.”
Brenda’s mouth curved slightly.
“I won’t.”
They rode within the hour.
The next town did not stand long enough to call itself defended.
One man tried to hold the line at the gate, shield raised, feet planted, and Valen did not slow for him, driving straight through the defense with such force that the man was thrown backward into his own ranks, breaking the formation before it had even formed.
A soldier lunged at him with a spear, shouting something he did not bother to hear, and Valen caught the shaft mid-strike, dragged the man forward, and drove him face-first into the stone with enough force to end him where he stood, releasing him only to step through the space he had created.
Another rushed him from the side.
Valen turned, seized him by the front of his armor, and lifted him clear off his feet before hurling him into the men behind him, sending them crashing into one another in a tangle of limbs that he cut through in one relentless advance.
There was no pause in him, no hesitation, only forward movement, each strike placed to end.
Across the square, Brenda fought with controlled precision, her movements clean, efficient, her strikes landing exactly where they needed to, dropping opponents without wasted motion, holding her ground where others would have given in.
Valen watched her with a certain interest, but it meant nothing to him; she could never be Keira.
The last of the resistance broke quickly after that, scattering or dropping their weapons, the fight collapsing under pressure.
Valen stood in the center of it, blood running from his weapon, his chest rising and falling as he looked toward the road beyond the town.
“We move,” he said.
Aeden approached, breathing hard but steady. “The men need to regroup and rest. I don’t like it, we are so close to the castle, and this town fell too easily. He is using psychological warfare on us, making us overconfident.”
“My men don’t need rest to finish weak opposition like this. They’ll recover on the march.”
Brenda appeared with a prisoner, dragging him forward.
“This one chose hiding over dying.”
The man dropped to his knees.
“The king will kill me. I should be at the castle, but I chose to run.”
“I will kill you if you don’t tell me what you know!” Valen growled.
“The army is weak,” the man said quickly. “You could take the castle, he expected it, but now he has changed his plan. He has the Queen.”
Brenda frowned slightly. “We’ve all heard the story of his pure Queen.”
The man shook his head. “No, you don’t understand, not many know, she is a white witch. He has kept her untouched and controlled because her power holds the kingdom together. He has begun killing innocents to force her to act. To do his bidding.”
Valen’s focus sharpened.
“And the Warcat?”
The man swallowed.
“He is drawing her in. He plans to use her against you.”
Something cold and certain settled into Valen then, something that burned steadily instead of flaring.
“Then he’ll regret that.”
Later, as the army prepared to move again, Brenda fell into step beside him, cornering him when he was alone.
“I’ve heard about her,” she said. “The Warcat.”
Valen did not look at her.
“I was curious,” she continued. “Maybe jealous in a way, though not in the way people expect. But I wanted to see the woman who could stand beside you and not be swallowed by it.”
Valen’s jaw tightened slightly.
“She is a Warcat, she is born for battle.”
She studied him for a moment before nodding.
“I won’t stand in your way,” she said quietly. “But please, do not make a spectacle of me in front of your men. Whatever you choose, remember I am still a woman with the pride of a lycan.”
Valen stopped, considering her words, then gave a single nod.
“I will give you that.”
She reached out, her hand resting briefly against his shoulder in acknowledgment before stepping back.
Neither of them saw the shape approaching from behind them.
A sharp warning yowl filled the air.
Looking for the source of the sound, Valen turned and saw the familiar shape of the black warcat padding towards him, eyes blazing with fury.
Cairo turned to Brenda and hissed in challenge. Brenda's eyes narrowed, in shock or fury, as she stared back.
Valen suddenly remembered this was Keira's twin soul; this was him reacting to Brenda's hand on his shoulder.
“There is nothing between us,” he spoke to Cairo. “Brenda knows about Keira; she was offering advice.”
“That’s right,” said Brenda smoothly. “I want to see the Warcat with my own eyes, at least once.”
“She should never have gone without me. If you are here without her, I take that as a bad omen. We march straight for my woman at once, we push hard and we reach her by nightfall.”
Cairo purred in agreement as Valen turned to shout orders at his men.
They walked away from Brenda, leaving her standing where she was, already moving on without her, as if she had never been part of it at all.
She watched them move away, her hand closing slowly into a fist as her lycan stirred beneath her skin, and this time, she did not push it back.