Chapter 49
THIRD PERSON POV
(Shortly before the Rogues attacked)
Marceline’s Chambers.
Marceline perched on her bed, fingertips tracing loops across the linens while she waited for Silas. He had gone to carry a vital note to Darius’s men—a note that unlocked her deepest wish: Elara’s ruin. Yet her meticulously built composure was unraveling. Her envy, a corrosive toxin, ate at her insides.
Her foolishness in misjudging Elara and Ronan had already robbed her of calm. She had no idea Ronan had already fallen for Elara and acknowledged their mate bond. This truth remained hidden from Marceline; even if it surfaced, it would only blacken her soul further and fuel her fury.
She demanded outcomes, and she demanded them immediately. Darius’s sluggish tempo enraged her. She had supplied him with every item he requested, every craving he voiced, and still he stalled, urging her to be patient. The notion drove Marceline to the edge of madness.
She had endured so long to finally eliminate Elara and could endure no longer.
She drifted to the window, eyes scanning the palace grounds for any trace of Silas. Her restlessness, fed by a fierce blend of drive and bitterness.
Lost in her reverie, she failed to notice Silas slipping into her chambers. She only registered his presence when he shut the door.
“What kept you so long?!” She barked, storming toward him and yanking the letter from his grasp in one swift jerk. She skimmed the contents, mouth curling into a contemptuous grimace. She flung the paper to the floor in scorn.
Darius had instructed her to wait.
“Wait?” She sneered, tone laced with incredulity. “Wait?! I handed him everything he ever desired and now he orders me to wait?” The phrase slithered from her lips like poisonous venom.
Silas parted his lips to respond, but Marceline silenced him with a cutting stare.
“What? Speak!” She hissed, her restlessness teetering on frenzy.
He drew a deep, grounding breath. “My lady…I…” He paused, his typical poise clearly rattled. “I suspect Alpha Darius harbors goals beyond merely seizing the blood healer.”
She arched a brow, interest sparked amid her annoyance. “So…what exactly are you implying?”
He fidgeted, eyes flicking about the room. “Something feels wrong. This isn’t his usual style; he’s been unnaturally silent, as though scheming something massive. And…” He leaned nearer, voice dropping to a hushed murmur, glancing around to confirm their solitude despite already knowing it. “The guard did nothing, said little, just observed in silence. Something seems…amiss.”
Marceline huffed, brushing off his worries with a flick of her wrist. She brushed past him, her fury and vexation plain. “It’s only amiss to you because you’re dull and obtuse. Darius is clever, but to my dismay, he’s also lethargic,” she spun to face him, gaze lingering with loathing scorn. “But at least not as lethargic as you. Have you dealt with Aiden?”
Silas winced faintly at Aiden’s name. Elara’s pursuer, dispatched by Darius to trail her from the Moonwhite Pack. He had been assigned that role, but matters soured when he attempted betrayal.
“Yes, my lady. I have.”
“Disposed of the body thoroughly?” She inquired in an icy tone, as if discussing an object rather than a man’s life.
“Yes, far from here.”
“Good,” she nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. “Now get out of my sight.”
Without another syllable, Silas bowed and exited. En route to his post, he collided with Zareth. One of Darius’s most loyal guards, planted directly under Ronan’s watchful eye. Zareth loomed large, at least six and a half feet tall, his aura instantly daunting, yet he blended in to avoid detection.
“Oh…Silas,” Zareth murmured, lips twisting into a threatening grin that chilled Silas to the bone. Zareth dwarfed Silas, who stood at 5’10. “I hope everything’s fine? You appear as if you’ve encountered a specter…”
“Oh, me?” Silas laughed uneasily. “I’m simply exhausted,” he hurried to add. “In that case. Goodnight.”
He pivoted to depart before Zareth could probe his unease further. Mere steps away, his breath caught. He staggered, chest constricting, wheezing for oxygen.
“Air…” He gasped, hauling himself outside the palace and collapsing onto the lush grass on his knees.
Cael, on patrol, spotted him from a distance and dashed over. He kneeled, resting a hand on Silas’s back for support. Fortunately for them, they were alone in that section; others were posted at different palace perimeters, inside and out.
“Are you alright, Silas?” Cael questioned softly, worry lining his face.
Silas wheezed in reply, still battling for breath. “Just stay quiet for now.” Cael instructed, stroking his back calmingly until his respiration steadied. Silas straightened a fraction, Cael remaining at his side.
“What happened?” Cael pressed, voice low but brimming with concern. He didn’t truly care deeply, but Silas resembled a younger sibling since starting palace duties.
A playful younger sibling who constantly stirred mischief, like an innocent rascal.
Silas released a profound, trembling exhale. “I committed a grave error,” he murmured, eyes bulging with horrifying awareness, as though his misdeeds’ burden had abruptly crushed him.
Cael’s brows knitted in bewilderment. “I don’t follow? What error? What did you do now?”
Silas faced him, exhaling a prolonged, anguished sigh. “I… I believe I’ve betrayed everyone.”
“I don’t comprehend!” Cael’s puzzlement intensified; he clutched Silas’s shoulder, shaking it lightly. “What do you mean?”
The following words from Silas rendered Cael mute. “I may have jeopardized the entire pack without even knowing it.”