Chapter 67 The Shadow’s Whisper and the Queen’s Return
Ronan tumbled into the eastern stables, his massive frame colliding with a heavy wooden grain cart with a deafening crash. The impact splintered the edge of the cart, sending oats spraying across the dirt floor, but he didn't feel the phantom pain of the wood—only the agonizing burn behind his eyes.
Matthew, who had been pacing near the stalls, bolted forward in a panic. "Ronan! Gods, what happened?"
Ronan, now caught in a jagged half-shift, snarled as he dragged himself upright. His claws left deep gouges in the side of the cart, and his breathing sounded like a bellows in a forge. Thick, obsidian veins pulsed at his temples, receding slowly as he fought for every inch of his sanity.
Matthew froze, his eyes widening as the realization dawned on him. "The Shadow King..." he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "He’s awakened."
Ronan nodded curtly, wiping beads of cold sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. "He’s restless," he rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stone. "I need to find Morrigan. I need to know if she has found a way to silence him once and for all. This... this is becoming harder to contain."
"Hopefully there’s a permanent solution," Matthew muttered, looking toward the dark treeline. "Before he decides he doesn't want to stay in the shadows anymore."
The heavy stable doors creaked open, and Queen Arwen stepped into the dim light. Matthew straightened instantly, bowing his head. "Ah, Your Majesty..."
Ronan turned to face her, his posture stiffening. "Mother."
Arwen’s sharp, amber eyes swept over her son, taking in his disheveled state and the lingering darkness in his gaze. She didn't flinch. "Hmm. You don't look good, Ronan."
Ronan mentally rolled his eyes, trying to steady his ragged breathing. "I’ve had better mornings."
"I would have returned earlier," Arwen said, stepping further into the stable, "but I received word that Hector is still alive. A strange piece of intelligence, considering he’s been dead for five years."
"Nine years, actually," Ronan corrected, his jaw tightening. "And yes. Hector is very much alive. I found out during the masquerade ball at Northwood. Elara wanted to visit his grave, but the earth was silent. I didn't feel the resonance of a fallen Alpha there."
Arwen blinked, her regal composure flickering for a second. "You knew? And you didn't tell me?"
"I was confirming it," Ronan replied. "If Hector is breathing, it means Northwood has been playing a much deeper game beneath the rug than we anticipated."
Arwen hummed, a dangerous edge to the sound. She turned her attention to Matthew. "And what of the incident with the horse? I hear my guest almost lost her life."
Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silken cloth. He unwrapped it to reveal a jagged, blackened branch. Arwen’s brows furrowed. "Nightshade-thorn?"
"Yes," Matthew confirmed. "One of the maids assigned to Cierce found it hidden in her chambers by accident and turned it over to me. I also overheard Cierce discussing the 'accident' on my patrol. She wasn't alone, but she was definitely the architect. We need to up the protection around Elara, especially with the Red Moon lurking."
Arwen’s eyes ignited with a cold, maternal fury. "Let me get this straight. I go away for a few days, and a brat like Pandora and some Northwood vulture are already causing a ruckus in my home?"
"Now that we know it’s Cierce and Pandora," Ronan said, his voice regaining its kingly authority, "and since Draven knows Elara is here, we should conclude the Great Hunt early. Have the Alphas return to their packs before blood is spilled on our soil."
Arwen exhaled, smoothing her silk skirts. "Agreed. I’m going to see Elara now. I heard she had her first shift. You boys handle the logistics."
With a decisive nod, she walked out of the stable, her personal attendants falling into step behind her as they headed toward the royal tent.
On the garden path, Arwen sighted a familiar shock of crimson hair. Pandora was approaching with her entourage, looking like she had just swallowed a cup of bitter bile.
"Aunt!" Pandora cried out, forcing a bright smile as she hurried toward the Queen. She looped her arm through Arwen’s with practiced affection.
Arwen patted her hand, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "You look like you’re enjoying yourself, Pandora."
Kira, holding a silk umbrella over Pandora’s head, bowed deeply as she greeted the Queen. Pandora sighed dramatically. "Well, not really. I haven't gotten to spend any time with Ronan ever since... well, ever since she showed up."
Arwen’s smile widened, sharp as a blade. "Perhaps you should leave them be, dear."
Pandora’s breath hitched in her throat. She stuttered, "Leave them...?"
"Yes," Arwen said simply. "Anyway, where were you headed?"
Pandora fiddled with her perfectly manicured nails. "Just a stroll. I was actually on my way to invite the noblewomen for lunch in my tent. Since my father is out with the hunters, I thought I should host." She glanced at Arwen. "It’s a small gathering."
"That is a wonderful idea," Arwen mused. "In fact, Elara could use this medium to get close to the other Lunas. It’s time she was introduced properly."
Pandora’s smile turned dangerously sharp. "Of course, Aunt. I’ll make sure I get very close to Elara."
Inside the royal tent, Elara was curled up with an ancient leather-bound book. She suddenly let out a sharp sneeze, rubbing her nose. Who on earth is talking about me? she wondered.
"Family is near," Lyra whispered suddenly, her voice alert.
Elara frowned. "Family?"
She turned just as Arwen pulled back the tent flap, a warm smile on her face. Elara hopped down from the bed and rushed to meet her, but as she got close, her nose twitched. Lyra let out a mental scowl. I can smell that Southern bitch on her. They were just together.
"Your Majesty," Elara said, bowing deeply. Faye and Liora followed suit.
Elara led the Queen to a plush chair. "How was your journey?"
"Fruitful enough," Arwen replied. She motioned to an attendant, who stepped forward with a small black lacquered box. "I picked this up on my way through the Silver Peaks. I thought it suited you."
Elara gasped, her hands shaking as she took the box. "Your Majesty, you didn't have to..."
"Oh, come now, Elara," Arwen chuckled. "You’ll be part of the family soon. Just call me Mom."
Elara’s heart skipped a beat. "But I—"
"Open it," Arwen nudged.
Elara lifted the lid and let out a soft cry. Inside lay a silver crystal shard, suspended on a delicate chain. It glowed with a soft, ethereal light that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. Tears pricked Elara’s eyes. "It’s beautiful. Thank you."
Arwen brushed off the thanks, her gaze falling to the book Elara had been studying. "It seems I’ve interrupted your studies. The Bond of Souls?"
Elara stuttered, "No, no! I was just... curious."
Arwen leaned back, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Are you sure? You looked quite invested. Are you getting ready for your mate?"
Elara felt her face turn a bright shade of crimson. "Well... I actually had a question. I came across a text about 'Fated Mates' and 'Twin Flames.' What exactly is the difference?"
Arwen’s expression turned thoughtful. "A Fated Mate is a gift from the Moon Goddess. It is a biological pull, a match made for the strength of the pack. It is fierce, undeniable, and often inevitable. But a Twin Flame..." Arwen’s voice lowered. "A Twin Flame is a match of the soul. It is far rarer. It’s not about biology; it’s about two halves of the same spirit finding each other across lifetimes. It is a choice as much as it is a destiny."
By the time they finished discussing the intricacies of the heart, it was time for lunch.
"Pandora is hosting a lunch at her tent," Arwen said, rising to her feet. "You should use this medium to get close to the other Lunas, Elara. They need to see the woman who has captured my son's attention."
Elara gulped, the memory of Pandora’s cold eyes flashing in her mind. "Yeah... of course, Your Majesty."
As soon as Arwen left, Faye was the first to speak. "My Lady, I don't like this. I don't like the idea of you attending anything hosted by that woman."
Liora nodded fervently. "I’m not in support either. Pandora holds grudges like a wolf holds a scent. The fact that she’s being 'hospitable' is suspicious."
Elara stood tall, a new spark of silver light in her eyes. She thought of the horse, of Draven, and of the power now humming in her blood. "I’ve taken Pandora down once," she said, her voice steady. "I can do it again. Now that I’ve shifted, she’s the one who should be worried, not me. I won't let her trample on me ever again."