Chapter 165 Burning Cacophony (2)

Chapter 165 Burning Cacophony (2)
P E R S E U S

When we finally reach Eretria, the town is slowly stitching itself back together after the war. People are everywhere—repairing roofs, repainting signs, sweeping debris from the cracked streets. The air smells of fresh sawdust and damp stone, a weird mix of ruin and renewal. Thomas and I keep our hoods up, hiding our faces. We don’t need anyone recognizing us now, not when we’re this close to pulling this off.

I walk quickly, my focus sharp and narrow. Every second counts. We need to find the prince, convince him to marry Athena, and get back before her deadline runs out. People glance our way as we pass—not with recognition, but with wariness. They sense it—the danger that clings to us like a second skin.

I’ve never actually been here before, not in person. But I’ve studied maps, read reports from spies like Bernadette. Now, walking these streets, I can’t help but wonder about my mother. How did she sneak in and out during her affair with Thomas? How did she slip past guards and gates without getting caught? After hearing Thomas’s side of things, part of me can’t help but see her as selfish. Maybe even two-faced.

She had a chance to leave everything behind—to start a new life with Thomas and me. But she didn’t. She kept coming back.

“What’s on your mind?” Thomas asks after he flags down a carriage willing to take us up to the castle.

“Nothing,” I say shortly. “How do you even know I was lost in thought?”

He clicks his tongue, pays the coachman, and gestures for me to get in.

Once we’re moving, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves filling the silence, I finally ask the question eating at me. “If she left you, why did she keep coming back? Why continue the affair?”

Thomas is quiet for a long moment. The streets pass by outside the window, people rebuilding, children playing again like there hadn’t been a war at all.

“It wasn’t supposed to continue,” he says slowly. “She used to crochet for me. I still have things she made back then. There was a sweater… she started it when she was still pregnant with you in the human world. She finished it later.”

My throat tightens. “She died crocheting. Never finished the last piece. Was that for you, too?”

He nods, his gaze distant. “When she brought me that finished sweater… I think she knew it wouldn’t be the end. I still wanted her. She still wanted me. And with the deal I had with Aurelia hanging over us… she didn’t want to live with regrets. Returning that sweater… it opened everything back up. After that, she started visiting more often. We met at the cabin sometimes. But we had to stop once your dragon began to manifest.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice rough. “Why did you have to hide that part of me? People called him a monster, but he’s not. He’s… loyal. Protective. Like a brother. A mentor. Just like my lycan.”

“I didn’t want to hide him,” Thomas says, and for the first time, he sounds tired. Defeated. “But she insisted. She was afraid people would question your birth—where you came from, what you were. She said you’d never fit in. I didn’t agree, but… it kept leading to arguments. And Marcus didn’t have an heir, and—”

“He did.”

Thomas freezes. “What?”

“He did have an heir. I always thought my ‘real’ son was left with nothing—that you were his son, taking what was mine. Are you saying Cassandra had his child?”

“No. It’s more complicated than that. Marcus had an affair.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “I never thought Marcus had the guts to cheat on your mother.”

“He was drunk. And Rebecca was just… there.”

Thomas goes very still. “Rebecca? Kai’s wife? So their daughter is… Marcus’s daughter?”

I nod, resting my head against the worn seatback. “Yes.”

“And that would make Eleanor… your wife… Marcus’s daughter?”

“Exactly.”

Thomas stares out the window, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to physically process the mess of it all.

“Wow,” he breathes. “This is… really messed up.”

“It really is.”

“Does she know?”

“Yes. She found out before I could even tell her.”

He shakes his head, a grim look on his face. “I hope someday we can all make up for the choices that hurt you kids.”

“Hopefully,” I say quietly.

Just then, the carriage slows and comes to a stop. I look out—we’ve reached the castle gates.

Thomas meets my eyes. “Now let’s go get George.”



The castle halls feel hollow and too quiet, but palace workers still move through them, busy with one task or another. They freeze when they see Thomas, their eyes going wide before they quickly clear a path for us. Maybe they’re scared. Some look like they’re seeing a ghost—blinking hard, faces pale. I guess the story they’d been told was that we were both dead. Now here we are, walking right through the heart of the palace like we never left.

The guards at the main doors bow deeply as we approach, their movements stiff with shock. None of them speak. Thomas must carry some kind of energy around him—something that makes people too afraid to question what’s right in front of them.

The throne room doors swing open, revealing a space that’s both ancient and breathtaking. High ceilings, marble floors, tapestries heavy with history. For a second, I let myself imagine what it might’ve been like growing up here. Running across these cool tiles. Hiding beneath the grand staircase. Sitting still while my mother tried to paint me, just like she did in the cabin. The thought is sharp and sudden, but I push it down. We don’t have time for maybes. We have hours left. We need to find George and get out.

"Where is Prince Jeremy?” Thomas’s voice cuts through the silence, aimed at the guards stationed near the entrance.

“In the throne room, Sire,” one answers stiffly, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Dragon shifters really do love their traditions.

I follow Thomas inside, but a sudden, piercing pain shoots through my chest. I clutch at the spot, breath catching.

"Are you okay?” Thomas asks, stopping mid-stride.

"Yeah," I grind out. "It’s Ezekiel. He’s pushing harder to reach Eleanor."

"You’ll see her soon."

"I know. But I need to know she’s okay now. Meredith had her restrained that day. What if she’s hurt?"

"She’s strong, Perseus. She’ll be okay." He pats my good shoulder, and for once, I don’t pull away.

I nod, and we keep moving.

As we near the throne room, I hear a voice from inside—calm, but strained. Jeremy’s.

"The war has taken its toll, Congressman, but we need to make urgent arrangements. We continue searching for my father while strengthening our defenses. Bloodthorn could attack at any moment."

Another voice, older and weary, responds. "I’ll send the report immediately—"

"That won’t be necessary," Thomas announces as we step into the room.

Jeremy’s head snaps up from the table. His eyes go wide as Thomas lowers his hood. "Father…" he breathes, rising slowly to his feet. "You’re alive. How did you—" His words cut off the second I lower my own hood, pushing stray strands of hair out of my face. His expression hardens. "Why is he here?"

"Long live the King," the congressman, Barnabas stammers, bowing deeply.

"Thank you, Barnabas. I need you to send word at once. Prince George is to be married to Queen Athena of the serpent shifters."

"What?" Jeremy blurts, disbelief written across his face.

Barnabas doesn’t question it. He just swallows nervously and scurries away. "As the King wishes."

"George? Getting married? How?" Jeremy demands, turning back to Thomas.

"Jeremy, I wish I had time to explain everything, but we don’t. Where is your brother?"

Jeremy lets out a sharp, frustrated sigh. "What the hell is this? You disappear for days. I’ve been working myself raw trying to hold this kingdom together, and you show up with him?" He jabs a finger in my direction. "The man who wanted you dead?"

"You're really good at this fatherhood thing," I mutter under my breath to Thomas.

"Shut up," Thomas growls back before turning to Jeremy. "We were rescued by the serpent shifters. Athena needs a groom in two days. Perseus is already married, so—"

"So you want George to take his place? Is that why you went over the cliff with him?"

"Jeremy, listen—"

"He’s your son, isn’t he? Cassandra’s son."

I’ll give it to him—the guy is sharp. Sharper than his father. Sharper than me, maybe.

His eyes are bloodshot, like he’s trying to process too much at once and it’s breaking him.

"All these years," he continues, voice trembling, "you compared Raphael to Perseus. Talking about how young he was, how much better he ruled Bloodthorn. You knew back then, didn’t you? Is that why you never wanted to pass the throne to any of us? You were saving it for him?"

"I only found out for certain during the war. Maybe some part of me was keeping the throne… open. But I was evaluating all of you, too. Raphael is too hot-headed. You’re too emotional. And George…" Thomas trails off, shaking his head. "George is a persona I don’t fully understand."

"You’re sick," Jeremy spits. "Wouldn’t it have been better to give the crown to a son you actually raised than one you never even knew?"

"That’s not the issue right now. I need to find George. Where is your mother? And Raphael’s children—Hildegard, James, and Eliza?"

Jeremy wipes angrily at his eyes. "Mother is dead. And the three children? Bernadette took them. She’s with Bloodthorn’s Beta now."

Thomas goes very still. "What?"

Wow. I never thought Severus would actually go through with adopting them.

"Our family has fallen apart," Jeremy says, voice breaking. "It’s in ruins."

"It was never really together to begin with," Thomas replies, though his voice wavers. He’s trying to sound strong, like the news of his wife’s death and his broken family isn’t hitting him hard. But I can see it—the cracks. "We’ll discuss this later. Where is George?"

"You never loved Mother, did you?" Jeremy asks, ignoring the question.

"I’ve answered that before, Jeremy. I saw her as a friend. I cared for her. I’m grateful she gave me children. But nothing compares to what I felt—what I still feel—for Cassandra. It’s the truth, harsh as it is."

"And that’s why you’d rather offer up George than risk losing Cassandra’s son?"

"Perseus is married. He’s expecting a child with his wife. George has always admired Athena. Don’t turn this into something it’s not, Jeremy."

"You’re right," Jeremy says coldly, wiping his face one last time. He looks straight at me, and his expression turns grim. "If you’re looking for George, he isn’t here."

Something in my gut twists. Ezekiel stirs violently within me.

"What do you mean, he isn’t here?"

"He’s gone to Bloodthorn." Jeremy’s eyes are ice. "You can wait for him to bring back Eleanor’s head."

Then Ezekiel’s voice tears through my mind, sharp and panicked. "I’ve found her, Perseus. Her pulse is racing—it’s like she’s under attack."

“Stop making jokes, Jeremy. Where is George?” Thomas hisses, his voice low and tight with building anger.

“If you want to wait for him to return, Father, then please do. I promise it won’t take much time.”

The words echo in my head, sharp and ugly, and suddenly it feels hard to breathe. Jeremy steps even closer, a useless, cold smirk plastered across his face—a smirk that holds more of Meredith’s cruel features than any of Thomas’s.

“You killed my brother,” he says, each word deliberate and venomous. “You stole his life, his future. You’ve destroyed my family, and now… I’m going to watch yours crumble—”

I don’t let him finish.

My fist connects with his jaw with a sickening crack, cutting his words short. He stumbles back, gasping, but I don’t stop. I hit him again, and again, driving him down to the cold marble floor. He coughs, struggling for air, but all I see is Eleanor’s face. All I hear is Jeremy’s threat echoing in my skull.

Strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me back. Thomas.

“Enough, Perseus!”

I shove him off me, chest heaving, eyes locked on Jeremy curled on the ground.

“If he touches her,” I snarl, my voice raw and shaking, “I’ll kill him. And I swear—I’ll come back and kill the rest of you.”