Chapter 113 Shadows

Chapter 113 Shadows


Several days later…

Dominic found himself deep within the forest, in what had once been his kingdom—and which he planned to reclaim at any cost. He hid inside a small, ruined cabin, its rotting beams and crumbling stone walls offering little more than the illusion of shelter, yet it was there that he plotted his vengeance against Lysander. The air inside was thick with the scent of damp wood, old smoke, and the bitter determination of men who had nothing left to lose.

—It is good to have you back among us —one of his men assured him, one of his most loyal generals.

They were gathered around him at the battered, unsteady table before the fireplace, where a meager fire struggled to stay alive. Shadows danced across their scarred faces, each one a map of battles lost and grudges nursed in silence.

—It is good to be back, but this is not my rightful place; this is not the place for any of us. Soon we will recover what belongs to us by right, what was stolen from us by those beasts. I swear to you that I will do whatever is necessary to achieve it, no matter what I have to do —he assured them, more determined than ever to succeed, his voice low and edged with steel.

—We know that to be true, my lord, and that is precisely why we have awaited your return so anxiously —another of those present acknowledged, his knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the table.

—You only have to command us, Your Majesty, for we are more than eager to claim our vengeance —Patrick assured him. Of all those present, he was the one consumed by the deepest fury, and rightly so. As he had told Astrid once, he had lost absolutely everything, and he could not endure another day of this wretched half-life.

—And we will. We will claim vengeance, and it will be so terrible that we will make them wish they had never set foot on this land —Dominic declared, a malicious smile spreading across his face as the firelight caught his eyes. He had more than a clear idea of what he would do. Years in captivity had given him nothing but time to sharpen his hatred into a weapon.

—Lysander is more vulnerable than ever. He is weak, and not only in body. According to my sources, my daughter’s death has left him devastated —he began to tell them, speaking slowly, savoring each word for the pleasure it brought to everyone present.

—Then let us do it. We have no time to waste —Patrick urged him, more than eager to start the battle anew. He was a warrior thirsting for blood, his leg bouncing with restless energy beneath the table.

—We cannot. No matter how much I might wish it, we cannot do it now. Not with Derek present —Dominic admitted, his tone final.

—On the contrary, if he is here, we must do it all the more. That way we would finish not one Alpha, but two —Patrick corrected him, leaning forward, his eyes alight with reckless hunger.

—I admire your thirst for blood and your eagerness for battle, but we cannot be stupid and rush ahead. We are few and we are weak. We are not ready for an open war, especially not against two kingdoms. First, we must weaken them, and I know exactly how to do it —he declared, his plans laid out in his mind with chilling clarity.

—If what you have is fear… —Patrick began to suggest, his words igniting Dominic’s profound rage, especially when he saw several of those present nodding in agreement with the younger man.

Dominic then rose to his feet in a single violent motion and overturned the table with brutal force, demonstrating the full extent of his fury. The wood crashed against the stone floor, splintering, and the men fell silent.

—Do not be mistaken. This continues to be my kingdom, and I am still your king. I will not tolerate stupidities like these. Things will be done as I say —he assured Patrick, while placing the cold edge of his dagger against the man’s throat. The blade bit just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

—As you say, Your Majesty —Patrick accepted, barely able to form the words around his ragged breathing.

—I am glad to hear that. Now, this is what we will do… —he said, and soon began to lay out his plans for them. After all, he had been given more than enough time to forge them during his captivity. Every hour in that cell had been spent carving out this exact moment.

Meanwhile…

Lysander stood in the forest, a small wooden chest held tightly in his hands. The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting silver patterns across the forest floor. He turned then, looking around at the trees surrounding him and up at the clear night sky, vast and indifferent. The stars offered no comfort.

—Your death does not change things, or the fact of who you were… You tried to kill me, and I fear it was on more than one occasion, all for your father —he said to no one in particular, speaking only to the wind. He needed desperately for Astrid to hear what he had to say, even if she no longer could. The words tore out of him, raw and uneven.

—I believed you so completely that I came to love you. I truly loved you, and that was my worst mistake —he accused her, his voice growing heavier with fury with each passing second.

—Now you are no longer here, and I will do the impossible to forget you —he assured, tightening his grip on the small wooden chest he held in his hands, the one that contained her ashes. The wood dug into his palms, but he welcomed the pain.

He was so consumed by his grief that he didn’t even hear someone approaching him, not until that person placed a hand on his shoulder. In that instant, his eyes opened wide, and all he could think of was her—of the secret, foolish desire he harbored that she might still be alive.

—Astrid —her name was all that escaped his lips, a breath, a prayer, and as he turned quickly, it was undoubtedly not her he found.

It was Kara, who looked at him with a hint of sadness—or at least that was what she wanted him to believe. Her eyes were soft, but her posture was calculated.

—No, I am not her —she told him, moving around to stand directly before him, blocking the path back to his thoughts.

—You must accept that she is gone and continue with your life. By the moon, you are the Alpha, and you must behave as such —she demanded, her concern for his state evident in her tone, though her motives were less clear.

—I don’t know if I can do it —he confessed to her, and it felt like the first honest thing he’d said in days. She was the only one he felt he could speak to about this. The only one who didn’t flinch from his darkness.

In the last few days, they had grown quite close, and it was true she had been there for him in his worst moment. While he was aware that she did it for a reason—that she desired to earn his trust—at least she did it by being herself. She did it by acting with the brutality and boldness that seemed to characterize her. There was no pretense in her ambition, and he found that almost refreshing.

—Now come on, stop wallowing in your pain and let us return to the palace. After the attacks you have suffered, the kingdom is in crisis and they need their Alpha more than ever; they need their king —she reminded him, her hand still resting on his arm.

—And I suppose they also need a queen —Lysander replied, looking at her fixedly. He was not so blind as to fail to notice what she intended. Her game was obvious, but he was too tired to call it out.

—Of course —she accepted with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and soon he offered her his arm.

Together, then, they began to walk back toward the castle, unaware that someone was watching them from among the shadows. The darkness between the trees held more than just secrets.

—Have you seen enough already? —Alaric questioned the person at his side, his voice a low murmur.

—Yes, I have seen enough —Astrid acknowledged, turning to look at him. Her face was pale in the moonlight, her expression unreadable.

—We can go —she accepted, holding on to him as they began to move away, melting back into the night from which they had come.