Chapter 20 20

Chapter 20 20


Oberon’s POV

My mind raced through tactical options even as my arms tightened around Eudora. The palace was compromised. Infiltrators who walked too confidently, who knew the layout and moved with purpose. Someone had provided them information. Detailed maps, guard rotations, weaknesses in the palace ‘s defenses. And I had a sinking feeling of who. Esmeralda had left only hours ago. A spurned lover, embittered and hurting from my rejection. Had she given the Ruminants all the information they needed, out of spite, to breech our defenses and capture Eudora? Within me, a white-hot fury grew, but I stamped down on it. You can get angry later. For now, focus on getting Eudora to safety.

“Yamal, secure the main entrances, double up the number of guards. No one enters or leaves without my personal authorization. “Send runners to the visiting Alphas. Make it known we call for their warriors”

Yamal gave a crisp nod and fell into other several standing guards. I turned to Marjah, seeing her injuries more clearly. She should not be standing, much less fighting. But in her eyes, I saw a resolute determination, a warrior refusing to give up.

“Marjah, you are in no shape to fight, but I need you to coordinate guard rotations in the inner palaces. As Eudora’ cousin, you will understand her patterns, her favored spots well. Use this knowledge to predict where the Ruminants will strike.”

Marjah straightened despite the pain. “Your Grace. Understood.”

Both ladies left my sides, each more bet in fulfilling her duty. I turned to Eudora, gathering her small form in my arms and cupping her chin gently. Her skin was pale, and her purple eyes held fear and wish for life. But in those depths, I saw determinate to not be a mere victim.

“I am taking you somewhere safe,” I said in the tone I knew only a Tokoan would argue with. “Somewhere even the Ruminants cannot track you.” She wanted to argue. Her jaw clenched stubbornly.

“I am not hiding while people are fighting for me. While they are dying to protect me.”

“You are not hiding,” I told her gently but firmly. “You are being tactical. They want you. If we keep you out of their reach, we dictate the fight. We make them come to us. On our terms.” She struggled with the logic. Her pride warred with practicality. She did not want to be protected like a fragile thing. But she knew tactics. Finally, she nodded. “Where are we going?”

I allowed myself a sigh of relief. I was prepared to carry her over my shoulder if necessary, but I was glad it had not come to that. “Somewhere secret. Somewhere safe,” I told her, and took her hand, lacing our fingers together. “And you have to trust me.”

“I do,” she said simply, and two words spelled the beginning of warmth in my chest. I led her through the dungeons until we came to a part that looked like solid wall. My hand found the catch and pressed the stone in a particular sequence, and the door swung open, and I led her into the narrow passage. “What is this?” she asked as the door closed behind us.

“Old servant’s corridors from when the palace was first built,” I told her, and pulled her further in, glad to have brought a torch on the wall and striking it at the flint. “My father showed me these passages when I was a boy. Before everything happened,” I added. “He taught me every secret of this palace. Every hiding place.”

I don’t know why my memory would allow me to do so today, but I tell it to her without pain or tears. Just memory. Perhaps that in itself is bittersweet enough, but it is the truth. Eudora squeezes my hand, a soft acknowledgment and validation of the emotion that fills my throat. The thrill of the escape propels us forward through the darkened passages, our hurried footsteps dulled by centuries of dust. The curving hallways are a labyrinth; I have not ventured through them in a long time. Not since I was a child exploring with my father, not since he would challenge me with riddles to solve that would lead to hidden doors and closets. My feet know the way.

We are ascending, high above the bowels of the palace. Eudora’s breath becomes labored, but she does not ask to rest. She does not demand that we stop. Finally, we emerge through yet another opened concealed door into a small tower room. It is dark, but not neglected; the room is kept dusted and clean, left alone. The moon shines through tall, unornamented windows, casting shadows with the dust. Eudora, moving to the center of the room, asks, “Where are we?”

“She would have liked you,” I said before I even knew I wanted to speak.

Eudora turned to me, obviously surprised. “And how do you know?” she inquired.

I was coming closer, I couldn’t help it. “It’s because you’re strong but you’re kind. Polite but with fire. And those traits were the only thing she ever valued in people,” I explained. “She claimed that real strength wasn’t in the body, or in domination, but in your ability to be kind when you had the easiest opportunity to be cruel.”

“She sounds… wonderful,” Eudora said softly.

“She was.” The words were sliding off my tongue more easily now. “She was everything good in this kingdom. Everything I am not.”

“You are more similar to her than you allow yourself to see,” Eudora said. “You could’ve just killed me when you caught me to begin with. You should’ve had me murdered in the dungeon like my father did with rebel leaders. Avenge your family’s death. But you didn’t. You allowed me to live, even though you despise me. That is kindness. Even if fighting all memories of what my father did is more convenient for you. We stood staring at each other in the small room.”

The room seemed to be almost visibly charged with unexpressed feelings and mutual understanding that was beginning to bloom. I made a few steps in Eudora’s direction, feeling not just the mating pull that called me to her but – something more. Something that felt like a personal choice. “We are safe in here for the moment,” I explained, looking around. “The room’s walls are protected by an old form of magic – my mother’s witch blood protection spells. Nothing can sense you in this room. No magic can identify you. No tracking spells. No dark magic. You are invisible to the outside world here.”

Eudora raised her head to meet my gaze, and the vulnerability was clear in her face. Her walls were down; there was no careful composure she usually endured, masked by fear and exhaustion. “I am sorry,” she said hoarsely. “For… for what my father made to your family. To you specifically. I know you do not forgive me, I know you cannot. But I must say it anyway. I’m sorry.”

Something in my chest snapped. It was a wall I’d been building for years, brick by brick, hiding all the memories of my dead family behind it. Eudora’s genuine remorse, though she committed none of these sins, was starting to destroy it. “You do not… I do not blame you for your father,” I said, the words pouring out of me. “Not anymore. I see you, Eudora. Not just his daughter. Your person. My mate.”

Her breath hitched on the word, and for the first time, I used it. Before, I’d thought about the mate bond becoming so much stronger, but now, I tried to deny it. Now, with danger everywhere, my existence threatened and my need to wrap her in bubble wrap the only thing I could think about—no more. “Oberon,” she whispered, hand coming up to stroke my face. Her fingertips traced the line of my jaw, and it was unbearable to move away from the touch. “I want this to be real. Not just the mate bond or a political necessity or a treaty obligation but us to be real. I want you to choose me, not because some god or fairy tale says so but because you want to.”

I pulled back and cupped her face with both hands, looked into those lilac eyes with intelligent others. “Then let us be real.” Lowering my lips to hers, giving in to desire at last. She rose on her toes, met them halfway, hands fisting in my shirt, breath mingling, close, but then… An explosion rocked the tower, force growing great enough to throw us apart. I caught her before she could fall and pulled her against me as the room shook. My mother’s wards flickered, becoming briefly visible. Cracks of purple light spider webbed across the walls, and I realized the protective spells that had worked for decades were failing.

“That’s… impossible,” I breathed, barely able to look as the wards shattered like dry glass. “There’s shouldn’t be anything able to break through them. My mother’s magic… it was ancient, powerful. It would take someone as strong… or stronger… to break them.”

But there they were, visible only through the window. But it wasn’t the Ruminants surrounding the base of the tower. It was too dark, too menacing. Wolves. Dozens of them, their eyes reflecting in the torchlight locked onto the tower. And they had a crest on their armor. One I recognized. One that filled me with livid, cold dread. Esmeralda’s family crest. Not just information. She had given The Ruminants that and a hostile pack of goddamned wolves. To siege my palace. And somehow, they had magic powerful enough to break an old, old witch’s wards. The howl of the alpha tore the sky, answered by dozens more. Calling for blood, for war.

“Oberon-“ Eudora whispered, her hand clutching my arm so tight I could feel it bruising, “-what do we do?”

I took a deep breath, pulling her close as I thought. We couldn’t stay here. The wards were failing. Leaving meant facing an army. “As foul as it sounds, Eudora,” I stated with a grim finality that I didn’t think I was capable of projecting. “We fight.”