Chapter 93

Gareth hadn’t been lying about putting me through hell. After a grueling six-hour practice session, I felt like I might vomit my guts out. And yet, despite the exhaustion gnawing at my body, I was exhilarated. This strange transformation within me had made me stronger than I could have ever imagined. I found myself faster, sharper, and more attuned to my surroundings than ever before. Even Icarus, who watched me spar with Gareth, stood slack-jawed in awe. He wasn’t the only one astonished by my newfound abilities—I surprised myself time and time again, instinctively dodging, blocking, and countering every move Gareth threw at me.

For the first time, I executed every combat technique Oberon had taught me with precision—something I had never been able to do before. It was as if my body had unlocked a hidden wellspring of skill and strength, allowing me to move effortlessly, almost as if I had been born for this.

"Lady Thalassa... you actually kept up with Master Larkspur! You're incredible!" Icarus cheered, his voice filled with genuine admiration, even though I knew I was still far from matching Gareth’s true skill.

"Thanks, Icarus," I panted, barely able to stay upright as I stumbled toward the locker room.

Despite the trembling in my limbs and the crushing weight of exhaustion, I felt incredible. The surge of endorphins coursing through my veins dulled the misery that had clouded my morning.

After this first intense session with Gareth, I was convinced I could face Fenris as his equal. Icarus had seen him fight, and he assured me that my speed and agility far surpassed Fenris's skill level. The initial doubts that plagued me about accepting the duel were gone. For the first time, risking my life didn’t seem like a reckless decision—it was a calculated gamble with a prize worth winning. I knew that turning down Fenris's challenge would have labeled me as nothing more than a weak human girl, cowardly hiding behind the King’s protection. No matter how much support I might have gained, the Royal Army would never truly accept me as the one standing beside Hadrian.

Still, a shiver ran down my spine at the thought of having to thank Gareth for preparing me for this fight. That, I was certain, would never happen.

Changing back into a dress and high heels proved to be more challenging than the combat itself. My legs wobbled with each step, and I had to walk all the way to the east wing of the Palace on my own, pretending I was perfectly fine—despite stumbling every few steps. But as I neared my chambers, a familiar gloom settled over me. The sight of the main palace entrance stole away the last remnants of my adrenaline high.

The fact that I wouldn’t see Hadrian today, even though I had his permission to enter the center of the Palace, only worsened my mood. He had left without a word, despite his promises to protect me. If not for my newfound abilities, I could have easily been humiliated by Selene's maids or worse. Rationally, I understood he had responsibilities, but it didn’t erase the sting of feeling abandoned. He had asked me to trust him, to depend on him, and yet he left me vulnerable. I was pissed.

Just as I considered breaking something to vent my frustration, an unexpected figure appeared outside my chamber, instantly diffusing my anger.

"Prince Varen? What are you doing here?" I asked, forcing a smile.

"Just Varen," he corrected with a grin, holding up a small box. "I thought you could use some good tea."

I nodded, gesturing for him to enter. Right now, I was willing to drink anything that might help my body recover, though I would have preferred something stronger—alcohol, perhaps.

I busied myself boiling water and preparing the cups. Fortunately, I could do it within my chamber without venturing to the kitchens. Who knew what might happen if I entrusted such a task to someone who wanted me gone? The idea of mixing hot water with potential enemies wasn’t exactly comforting.

"I heard you're planning to fight Keziah's brother," Varen remarked, settling into a chair with a knowing smirk.

"Wow," I chuckled, "news travels fast around here."

"I've lived in this Palace my whole life. Of course, I know everything that happens," he replied with a casual shrug, dropping the tea leaves into the steaming pot.

"Then I assume Selene knows about it, too..." I sighed, bracing myself for more trouble.

Varen snorted. "I have no doubt she was the one who convinced Fenris to challenge you."

His words struck a chord. "Now that you mention it, you might be right," I murmured, offering him a lopsided smile.

"I know I’m right, Thalassa," he said with unwavering confidence, his gaze locking onto mine. "She thought she had you cornered whether you accepted or declined the challenge. She knew the King had left and that you'd be forced to make the decision on your own."

I crossed my arms, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why does it seem like everyone knew Hadrian was leaving except me?"

"Not everyone," Varen corrected smoothly. "Only those with access to the central wing."

"And you? You live in the main building with Selene and the King?"

Varen laughed. "Of course not. I stay in the west wing—but I have my spies everywhere." A mischievous grin spread across his face, and for the first time that day, I felt a little less alone.

I was beginning to realize just how useful Varen could be. Though he didn’t have permission to wander freely through the Palace, he had long ago discovered its hidden passages. He knew them all, having explored them since childhood. One evening, he even showed me how to open the very passage Hadrian had been using, revealing that it led directly to the corridor outside the King’s chamber. It was a risky discovery—being caught slipping through a secret door could land me in serious trouble. But knowing I had a way to see Hadrian whenever I needed to gave me a sense of comfort.

"So," Varen mused, swirling the remnants of his tea, "what do you think your chances are against Fenris?"

I offered a wry smile. "Hard to say. I've never seen the guy fight."

He smirked knowingly. "You've got something... otherworldly in you, don't you?"

His words sent a nervous chuckle spilling from my lips. "What makes you think that?"

Varen leaned back, eyes glinting with amusement. "Larkspur wouldn’t have maneuvered you into accepting the challenge if he thought you were going to die."

"Honestly," I admitted with a soft laugh, "I thought that was exactly his plan."

"And yet," he pointed out, scanning me from head to toe, "you don’t sound so sure of that anymore."

I hesitated, propping my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands. "I suppose... there’s something ‘super’ about me after all," I confessed shyly.

Varen's grin widened, his curiosity piqued. "Tell me everything."

Deciding to trust him, I shared the strange changes happening within me—how my abilities had surfaced unexpectedly, and how it felt as if I were evolving into something beyond human. "It’s like my Alpha parents’ genes are finally waking up," I explained awkwardly. "Maybe I’m turning into a werewolf, just... without the ‘wolf’ part."

Despite my clumsy phrasing, Varen's excitement was unmistakable. He listened intently, nodding with growing intrigue, his eyes alight with something almost predatory as I recounted my enhanced strength and agility during my first training session with Gareth.

"Wow... you’re really going to win this," he said, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.

It was clear—he saw me as his weapon, a protector he could finally rely on. And strangely, I didn’t mind. For once, someone believed in my strength rather than my weakness.

But his grin faded into a more serious expression. "That Larkspur guy... he's a real piece of work," he muttered.

I chuckled. "You don’t have to tell me that. But why do you say so?"

Varen exhaled slowly before launching into his explanation. "The Royal Army... they’re a bunch of egotistical bastards. They were loyal to my father when he was strong enough to best any of them in combat. But as he aged, he had to buy their loyalty with gold." He clenched his jaw in frustration.

"So how did they swear allegiance to Selene?" I asked, curious. She didn’t seem strong enough to command their respect.

"Selene can fight," Varen acknowledged, "but she’s no match for them. Instead, she played it smart. She surrounded herself with powerful semi-nobles, the kind of people who lost their titles but kept their exceptional bloodlines. She integrated them into the army, replacing those who opposed her the most. Eventually, the rest had no choice but to accept her leadership. It took her twenty years to pull it off."

I began to grasp the immense power the Royal Army wielded. If Selene had spent two decades securing their loyalty, then they must have been an unstoppable force—one capable of conquering entire kingdoms. No wonder Hadrian, despite his disdain for her, was willing to make her Queen just to gain control of them.

Varen continued, his voice laced with admiration. "That’s why I say Larkspur is a cunning bastard. If you beat one of the army’s most arrogant officers, they’ll have no choice but to acknowledge your strength... and they’ve already pledged their loyalty if you win. He tricked them, played into their arrogance, and now they’re bound by their own pride."

A sharp breath escaped me as I finally understood the weight of my upcoming duel.

Varen smirked. "Now all you have to do is win."

I swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of it settle in my chest. "Yeah... all I have to do is win."