Chapter 100 The Severed Thread
The air in the West Wing didn't just turn cold. It turned lethal. Elara stood frozen, her hand still reaching out toward Caspian as the echo of his words vibrated against the stone walls.
Beside her, Liora and Faye exchanged looks of pure horror. The woman who had spent the last few months acting as the shadow in Elara’s life, the woman who had just been dragged out in chains, was the fated mate of the only blood relative Elara had left.
"Caspian," Elara whispered, her voice trembling. "You can’t be serious. Not her. Anyone but her."
Caspian didn't answer. He was staring at the heavy oak door as if he could see through the wood to the hallway. His pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving with the sudden surge of a bond that had been dormant for decades.
His inner wolf was clawing at his ribs, a primal force demanding he rush out and claim the female whose scent was currently burning through his senses.
The door suddenly groaned on its hinges, the iron latch clicking upward as it was forced open. Ronan stepped into the room, his presence an atmospheric collapse of shadows and silver light. Matthew followed close behind, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes darting between the distraught Elara and the vibrating Caspian.
"What is this?" Ronan growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"He says she’s his mate," Elara said, her voice cracking as she turned to face Ronan. The anger she had felt for him moments ago was eclipsed by the sheer, cosmic absurdity of the situation. "Pandora. He says his wolf is howling for her."
Ronan’s expression shifted from possessive fury to stunned silence. He looked at Matthew, who was wearing a look of pure disbelief. The silence stretched until the sound of Pandora’s voice rose again from the corridor. She had broken free of the guards for a split second, her frantic footsteps sprinting back toward the room she sensed her destiny was calling from.
The door burst open once more, and Pandora stumbled in. She was a wreck. Her red hair was matted with sweat, and her eyes were wild with a new, frantic hope. She stopped dead when she saw Caspian. The air between them hummed with a frequency so high it made the glass carafes vibrate.
Vespera, Pandora’s wolf, let out a piercing, joyous howl in her mind. "Mate! Mate!" The scent hit her like a tidal wave—white sage, mountain air, and ancient snow. It was a scent far more potent than Ronan’s ever was. It was the scent of home.
"You," Pandora gasped, her hand flying to her chest. She didn't look at Ronan. She looked at Caspian, the White Wolf who carried the aura of a god. "It’s you. You’re the one."
She moved toward him, her lips curving into a desperate, triumphant smile. This was her salvation. If her mate was a high-ranking member of the White Wolf clan, Ronan couldn't exile her. She was protected by the ancient laws of the fated bond.
"I knew it," she purred, her voice regaining its arrogance. "I knew the Goddess wouldn't abandon me to that little mutt. Come here, mate. Tell them. Tell Ronan he can't touch me."
Caspian didn't move. He watched her approach with icy detachment. He had spent the last hour listening to the truthful whispers of the palace staff.
He had heard about how Pandora had paraded herself as the "True Queen" both here and in the Southern Pack, long before Elara even arrived. He had heard of her constant efforts to undermine the girl who carried his same royal blood.
"Stay where you are," Caspian said. His voice was the sound of a glacier cracking.
Pandora’s smile faltered. "What? Mate, we don't have time. They’re trying to throw me out. You have to claim me."
Caspian turned his head to look at Elara. He saw the exhaustion in her eyes. Then, he looked back at Pandora.
"I have heard the truth of your conduct," Caspian began. "I heard of a woman who paraded herself as a Queen before a crown was ever offered. I heard of a female who sought to extinguish the light of a Sovereign of my own blood."
Pandora’s eyes darted between Caspian and Elara. Her face drained of color as the realization hit her like a physical blow. "Blood? You... you are related to her? That little mutt is your family?"
She let out a strangled, hysterical sound, looking up at the ceiling as if she could see the Moon Goddess herself. "You would do this to me? To give me my mate only to make him her brother? This is torture! This is a sick joke!"
"The White Wolf clan does not tolerate rot in its ranks," Caspian announced. "And we do not break bread with those who seek to destroy our kin. No one hurts the bloodline of the White Wolf clan and remains in good terms with them. Not even a fated mate."
He turned his gaze back to Pandora, who was shaking now.
"I, Caspian of the White Wolf Clan, reject you, Pandora of the South, as my mate and my equal. I sever the bond before it can take root. May the moon forget your name."
The rejection hit the room like a physical shockwave. Pandora let out a horrific shriek as the golden thread of the bond snapped. The pain and humiliation were too much. Her mind fractured.
"I will kill you!" she screamed, her eyes snapping to Elara. "This is your fault! You took everything!"
With a manic burst of speed, Pandora lunged, her fingers curling into claws aimed at Elara’s throat. She didn't even get halfway.
Ronan was a blur of shadows, his hand catching Pandora’s wrist with a bone-crushing grip that brought her to her knees. Simultaneously, Caspian’s hand landed on her shoulder, his ice-cold power surging through her body, pinning her to the floor.
"Touch her," Ronan hissed, his eyes glowing with lethal silver, "and I won't just exile you. I will dismantle your pack piece by piece."
"She is my blood," Caspian added, his voice low and terrifying. "And you are nothing to me."
Ronan and Matthew exchanged a long, heavy look. They both gulped. They had seen the ruthless efficiency of Caspian’s loyalty. If he was willing to reject a fated mate to protect Elara’s honor, the rest of the clan would be twice as fierce.
Pandora stood in the doorway as the guards grabbed her again, her face a mask of pure spite. "You think you’ve won? I will make you pay for this, Elara. I will burn everything you love until there is nothing left but the ash of your precious legacy."
"Get her out of here," Ronan roared.
The guards dragged her away, her curses echoing until they were silenced by the heavy outer doors.
Caspian stood by the hearth, his shoulders slumped for a fleeting second. He turned to Elara, his expression weary. "It seems the atmosphere isn't fit to talk about our legacy anymore. It is better that we wait for the Alpha to arrive."
Before Caspian could answer, Matthew’s body went rigid. His eyes glazed over as he received a high-priority mindlink.
"Already?" Matthew exclaimed.
Ronan raised a brow. "What is it, Matthew?"
"The patrol guards," Matthew relayed. "They’re reporting an entourage of foreign shifters. The White Wolf clan has reached our gates."
Ronan didn't say anything for a long moment. He looked at Elara, then at Caspian, who was wearing a knowing smile.
"Your clan came faster than I expected," Ronan said, his voice tight.
Caspian’s smile widened. "Well, your majesty, they are very much in a haste to see the princess."
The group moved through the palace in a tense procession. As they reached the grand entrance, the massive iron gates swung open. A line of white horses trotted into the courtyard. At the head was a rider whose presence rivaled even Ronan’s.
As the rider dismounted and pushed back her hood, the courtyard fell into a stunned silence. The Alpha was a woman of striking beauty, her hair a waterfall of pure silver that shimmered like moonlight. But it was her eyes that caught everyone off guard—they were a piercing, glacial blue, the exact color of a frozen sky.
She didn't look at Ronan. She looked straight at Elara and dropped to one knee.
"We have found you at last, Princess," the Alpha said, her voice echoing through the courtyard like thunder.