Chapter 56 Weight of silence
Back in the quiet of the royal chambers, the air was thick with a tension that had nothing to do with the duel and everything to do with the secrets hanging between the three women. Elara leaned back against her pillows, her silver-hazel eyes fixed on Faye. The maid was fidgeting, her fingers twisting the fabric of her apron into knots.
"I’m waiting," Elara said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous silk.
A hunch was already forming in her gut, but she didn't want to give it life. Everything Elara knew about "mates" was a horror story. Draven had claimed her once; he had been the boy who brought her flowers in the garden, only to become the monster who locked her in the dark. If Ronan, a Lycan King blessed by the moon itself, turned out to be the same, she would have no escape. No woods were deep enough to hide from a King.
“Don't you dare,” Lyra’s voice growled in the back of her mind, sharp with disapproval. “Ronan is not Draven. Do not punish the sun for the shadows the North cast on you.”
Elara didn't answer her wolf. She kept her gaze pinned on Faye. "Well? Who am I to him?"
Faye opened her mouth, the truth trembling on her tongue, but Liora stepped forward abruptly, cutting her off.
"Actually, my Lady, I think I support you," Liora said, her voice overly bright. "If you want to go for the Hunt, you should go."
Elara blinked, the sudden shift in topic catching her off guard. Faye stared at Liora in pure shock, her jaw nearly dropping.
“What are you doing?!” Faye snapped through their private mind-link.
“Do you want the King to have our heads dangling in the city square? If we tell her she’s his mate before he does, we’re dead!” Liora didn't flinch, though a bead of sweat rolled down her temple. “I’m saving our skins! If she keeps digging, we’ll slip. We need to distract her.”
Elara narrowed her eyes, looking between them. "Oh, really? You’re not going to tell me I’m too fragile or that the King will have a fit?"
"Not at all," Liora said, laughing nervously as she began to straighten the jars of ointment on the nightstand. "If you go for the Hunt, you’ll silence every secret enemy in this court. You’ll secure your future here. You’ll show them you aren't just a guest, you’re a force."
Elara leaned back, her fingers tracing the edge of her bandages. "I’m not just doing it to 'secure my future,'" she said, making the quote sign with her fingers. "I’m tired of being a bird in a cage. Witch classes and garden walks aren't enough anymore. I need to explore, to see what I’m actually capable of when I’m not being watched by a dozen guards."
She paused, her expression softening as her mind drifted to the only person who had ever truly encouraged her freedom. "Besides, I’d feel better knowing I had a familiar face in the crowd. I haven't seen the Queen in a long time. She's always been... kinder than most. Is she well? She wasn't at the arena."
Faye let out a long, silent breath of relief as the conversation drifted away from the fated-bond. "The Queen Mother is on a diplomatic trip to the Western covens, my Lady. She’ll be back just in time for the Hunt."
"Oh," Elara muttered.
She glanced at her arm, noting with a small smile that the deep claw marks were already fading into thin, silver scars. "At least one of us is healing. It feels good to recover this quickly."
“It’s a sign,” Lyra purred, her spirit pacing restlessly within Elara’s soul. “Our first shift is coming, Elara. It’s right around the corner. It might even happen under the Red Moon during the Hunt. Be ready.”
Elara shuddered at the thought of having her bones crack all at once, "Of course. We'll be ready."
\---
Near a secluded gazebo on the edge of the guest wing, the air was considerably colder. Draven stood with his back to the palace, his hands gripped tightly behind him as Rylan approached.
"Any update on the masked fighter?" Draven asked, the words vibrating with a low, dangerous edge.
Rylan shook his head, his expression grim. "Nothing. The maids in the Royal Wing are terrified; they won't even look at our scouts. And the servants assigned to us have been kept in the dark. Whoever she is, Ronan has her under total lockdown."
Draven let out a low, guttural growl that sounded more like a beast than a man.
"Draven, stop this," Rylan said, stepping into his brother’s space. "Elara is gone. It was your fault, and you have to face that. There is no way that girl in the arena is her. Elara didn't have a drop of magic, and she certainly couldn't take down an Alpha Princess."
Draven snarled, turning on Rylan with his eyes flashing a predatory blue. "I feel it in my bones, Rylan! Just because I can't sniff her out through that damn mask and whatever witch-tricks she’s using doesn't mean I don't know my own mate when I see her move."
Rylan mentally face-palmed, his frustration peaking. "And so what if it is her? Are you going to walk up to Ronan and accuse the Lycan King of stealing your property? You heard the elders. They’re calling her his mate. If you claim her now, you’re provoking a war between the entire Lycan Kingdom and the Northwood pack. We would be slaughtered."
Draven’s lips curled into a slow, chilling smile that made even Rylan shudder.
"Ronan wouldn't dare hold her back," Draven whispered, his voice dripping with dark confidence. "Not if I find her first and mark her. The moon might have given her to him, but she was mine first. And I’m going to remind her of that."