Chapter 98 How Should I Deal With You?
The wolf beside Althea perked up at her sudden tension, its glowing fur shimmering faintly.
“My Lady?” Melva asked, setting down the tray of tea. “What is it? What do you see?”
Althea’s breath hitched. She rushed to the window and pressed her hand against the frame, her heart pounding. A man stood in the courtyard below. He turned slightly, and the sunlight fell across his profile. That face—sharp, familiar, unforgettable.
“It’s him,” she whispered, her chest tightening.
Melva hurried to her side, straining to follow her line of sight. “Who? Do you know that man?”
Althea didn’t answer right away. Her lashes fluttered as if trying to blink away a mirage. She had told herself it was impossible, that her memory was only clinging to ghosts. Yet her lips trembled as the words slipped out.
“He’s alive…”
Without hesitation, Althea snatched a coat, throwing it over her gown. She rushed for the door, Melva and the wolf trailing after her in alarm.
Thirteen years ago, her mother had introduced her to a close friend. His name was Amon. Whenever Althea and her mother went into the wilderness to gather herbs and rare plants, Amon would meet them.
He had been more than a teacher, almost a second father. He taught her spells, trained her in combat, and placed weapons in her hands: blades, swords, bows, and arrows. She remembered the thrill of every lesson, and her mother’s constant warning: Never speak of Amon. Especially not to your father.
Althea never understood why, but she obeyed at least most of the time. She had once begged to show her father, Cain, what she learned, only to be scolded into silence.
Then came the ambush on one of their walk to collect herbal plants. Men loyal to Luna Meena, disguised as bandits, attacked them. Amon had stood between them and death, fighting fiercely so Althea and her mother could escape. She had seen him fall. She had seen him swallowed by flames, his body burned to ashes before her eyes.
And yet… here he was.
Her eyes blurred with tears as she stumbled barefoot across the courtyard, unbothered by the stares around her. “Amon!” she called, pushing past strangers in the crowd. She even reached out to touch shoulders, faces—only to wilt with disappointment when each man turned and revealed he was not the one she sought.
“Amon! Where are you?” her voice broke, raw with desperation.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Gavriel’s familiar roar thundered from behind. Althea froze at the sound.
The courtyard scattered instantly as people fled the Alpha King’s wrath. Still, her head whipped frantically from side to side, searching for the man who had haunted her memories.
Gavriel’s voice cut through the air again, sharp and furious. “Why did you let her out barefoot?!” His glare fell upon Melva.
“I—I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Melva stammered, bowing low.
Althea spun around quickly, breathless. “It wasn’t her fault. I… I saw someone I knew from the window, so I ran.”
She gulped as her eyes locked on Gavriel’s storm-dark face, a striking contrast against the bright sun. Gavriel looked worn, his face shadowed with dark circles that betrayed a sleepless night. His armor was dirtied, streaked with dust and dried stains from battle.
Without a word, he suddenly scooped Althea into his arms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing—like a sack of grain.
“Put me down! I can walk!” she protested, squirming, but Gavriel ignored her. His jaw was tight, his silence more commanding than words. He pushed open the door, stepped inside, and shut it with a sharp bang that kept even the wolf from entering.
The wolf growled in protest, but Gavriel snapped, “Quiet!”
A whimper followed, then silence.
He finally set Althea down and turned toward the table, his expression still hard. “You didn’t even finish your meal and then ran outside barefoot,” he scolded, stripping off his battered armor and letting the pieces fall heavily to the ground.
He dropped into a chair and ordered, “Come here. Finish your meal with me.”
Althea moved quickly, choosing the seat opposite him before he could drag her onto his lap again. She grabbed a piece of bread and bit into it, chewing silently.
Gavriel began eating as well, but his gaze never left her. After a moment, he asked, “Who’s Amon?”
Althea froze mid-bite. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. He was staring intently, his expression sharp, demanding the truth.
“He was… a friend of my mother,” she said softly. “I met him when I was ten. He was like a second father. He taught me so much—spells, training, even how to handle weapons. We used to meet him whenever my mother and I went into the wilderness for herbs and rare plants.”
Gavriel leaned back slightly, considering her words. “So you’re saying you saw him? That’s why you rushed outside?”
She nodded, clutching the bread in her hand. “Yes. I thought it was him. But… I must have been mistaken. Amon died that day—when my mother…” Her voice faltered, and she released a long sigh. “He burned saving us. I watched it happen.”
Her fingers trembled faintly as she lowered the bread back to the plate.
“Does Cain know about him?” Gavriel’s voice was low, heavy with thought.
Althea shook her head. “Mother told me to keep it a secret, especially from Father. Just like my powers, she said I should hide them. I think… he’s also from where my mother came from,” she admitted weakly, her words trembling into a soft hum.
Silence stretched between them. Gavriel didn’t speak, but his piercing gaze lingered on her face, as though he was peeling back every layer of her soul. Althea felt exposed, stripped bare under those eyes. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
Her chest tightened.
Finally, Gavriel leaned closer, his tone sharp but edged with something she couldn’t name.
“What should I do to you, Althea?”
Her breath hitched.
“Are you dangerous enough that I should start considering locking you in the dungeon?” His words were deliberate, each one sinking into her like a blade. “Many are urging me to do so.”
He paused, his jaw tightening, eyes still locked on hers. “Tell me, how should I deal with you?”