Chapter 120 120
Venessa’s POV
I had found a new reason to keep moving forward.
The thought of leaving Denzel behind hollowed out my chest in a way I could barely endure. Loving him had never been the problem it was knowing what my absence would do to him that shattered me. That was why, in the quiet place inside my soul, I turned to Atabey and made a request that cost me more than I let on.
“When I am gone,” I said softly, my heart trembling, “can you grant him a second-chance mate? I don’t want him to walk the rest of his life alone. I know he will raise our children with joy and pride, but he deserves companionship. He deserves love.”
Atabey did not answer me.
Her silence stretched, heavy and unreadable, but I chose to believe she heard me. I hoped fiercely that one day she would honour that request, if not for Denzel, then as a final gift to me.
We arrived at the Bear Kingdom soon after and were ushered directly into King Donovan’s presence. Unlike previous visits, there was no delay. He appeared almost immediately, welcoming us with a warmth that hadn’t been there before.
Drinks were served, and for the first time, his smile felt genuine not merely polite, not merely diplomatic.
“It would be best if we get straight to the matter,” Denzel said courteously. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
King Donovan smiled at him in return.
“Is it true,” he asked, “that King Jamar has reclaimed his throne?”
Dario nodded once.
“And is he well?” Donovan pressed. “Or is his illness still troubling him?”
I immediately reached for the mind-link, warning Dario not to answer too plainly.
“I can’t speak on his health,” Dario replied smoothly. “But I do know he was displeased with Queen Rochelle’s actions. That alone was enough reason for him to return home and reclaim what was his.”
It was a careful answer truthful, yet evasive.
“I hear he’s found his heir,” Donovan continued, suspicion threading his voice.
“What if he hasn’t truly recovered?” he added. “What if the illness affected his mind?”
Denzel frowned.
“Why would you suggest that?” he asked.
Donovan cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully.
“He searched for an heir for years,” he said. “Then suddenly, he leaves on an expedition and returns with one? And now he’s preparing a coronation? Forgive me, but it raises questions.”
Denzel leaned back in his chair, studying him.
“What do you think is really happening?” he asked.
Donovan hesitated, then spoke frankly.
“He’s dying,” he said. “He knows how many factions were preparing to fight for his throne. Creating an heir real or not would prevent a war.”
It was a plausible theory.
Still, Denzel shook his head.
“I don’t believe that’s the case.”
Donovan laughed lightly. “Pure speculation, of course. There may be a simpler explanation. I suppose we’ll all find out on Sunday.”
Denzel nodded.
“Why did you close your borders so suddenly?” he asked.
Donovan chuckled.
“Rochelle violated our treaty,” he said. “And there’s been… a strange group moving through the territories. Recruiting shifters. Promising them things that should never be promised.”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
“They came into contact with a northern village. That village paid dearly for it. I closed our borders to protect my people.”
“In what way are they dangerous?” Denzel asked.
“If they touch you,” Donovan said slowly, “or even speak to you for too long, something changes. Desires appear where none existed before. You start to want what they’re offering even if you never did before.”
He shook his head.
“I can’t fully explain it. It sounds mad. But I believe it’s supernatural.”
He was right. Painfully so. But I remained silent. This conversation was not mine to lead.
“I think this is something we should revisit after the coronation,” Denzel said thoughtfully. “You may be onto something. Keeping your borders closed is wise, Your Majesty.”
Donovan inclined his head in agreement.
The discussion drifted to smaller matters particularly King Fabian’s efforts to question the legitimacy of Jamar’s heir. According to Donovan, Fabian had swallowed his pride and written to him, requesting support. The idea of the heir being false had originated with Fabian, not Donovan though Donovan admitted the theory made sense.
We laughed lightly over it, and soon it was time to depart.
We reached the Lycan Kingdom under the cover of night, greeted with reverence and ceremony. The level of respect shown to us was unmistakable. Rayon stared in open amazement as servants hurried to attend to our every need.
From the moment we stepped inside the castle, we were treated as royalty.
After being led to our chambers and freshening up, we joined my father for dinner.
He was radiant when he saw me.
“I’ve been counting the hours,” he admitted, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Two days felt like an eternity.”
We didn’t tell him about what had happened back home. He deserved peace, not worry.
He confessed he’d delayed dinner deliberately, waiting for us. Craig joined us as usual, smiling warmly, and several elders followed. My father couldn’t stop praising me telling anyone who would listen how I’d saved his life.
The elders remarked on my resemblance to my grandmother his mother and Craig studied me with quiet curiosity, sensing a change he couldn’t quite name.
Dinner passed pleasantly, exhaustion eventually pulling us toward rest.
The next morning, we woke early and made our way to breakfast. Along the corridors, decorations gleamed evidence that the coronation would be nothing short of magnificent.
My father was already seated with elders and high-ranking officers, many of them young, having inherited their positions from their parents.
As I scanned the room, my gaze caught on one elder whose eyes bore faint, root-like black veins at their corners.
I linked Denzel immediately, asking if he saw it too.
He didn’t.
“Only you can see the corrupted,” Atabey murmured within me. “Keep this knowledge to yourself. Power lies in knowing when to speak and when not to. He cannot corrupt anyone here. Their hearts are protected.”
Relief washed through me.
My father was safe.
And for now, that was enough.