Chapter 258 Behind Locked Doors

Chapter 258 Behind Locked Doors

News in a pack always traveled faster than a running wolf. It crept through the stone corridors on quiet paws, sliding under doors and slipping into every corner of the palace.

Felda was walking down the inner hall when the hushed whispers of two palace maids caught her ear. She stopped in her tracks, her breath hitching as she listened to what they were saying.

They were talking about the king, murmuring in terrified tones about how he had fallen sick again, how he was hiding himself away behind locked doors, refusing to let a single soul near him.

Felda stood still, her mind spinning into a panic. Did he have hidden complications from the ancient ritual that brought him back to life? Was it a sickness left over from the ritual?

If so, why was he keeping it a secret from her? Why would he push her away, and why would he push away the daughter he had spent years longing and crying for?

What in the world was he planning inside that lonely, dark room?

She didn't wait to hear the rest of the maids' chatter as she caught the tail end of a sentence: “He doesn't ever get sick like that; I've never even seen him look so weak before."

She turned on her heel, her heart hammering against her ribs. She marched straight down the corridor toward his royal chambers, her footsteps echoing sharply against the stone.

When she reached the heavy oak doors, the royal guards crossed their spears, blocking her path.

"Let me in," Felda demanded, her voice shaking with fear and frustration as she tried to push past them, but the guards held their ground, their faces stern and unyielding. They had their strict orders straight from the king himself, and no one, not even her, was allowed to pass.

"The king does not want to see you," one of the guards snapped angrily, giving Felda a rough shove backward to force her away from the threshold, his patience wearing thin at her relentless stubbornness.

Felda refused to step back. She shook her head fiercely, tears of panic pooling in her eyes. "That's not possible! Let me in right now!"

Another guard stepped forward, towering over her with a menacing look in his eyes. "Get a hold of yourself, or we will physically throw you out of this hallway. The king can hear every single word you are screaming right now, and yet he has not given us the order to open these doors. That clearly tells you he does not want your presence. Maybe he is finally getting tired of you and your endless tricks!"

The guard's words hit her.

Deep down, she knew he was right about one thing: the king could definitely hear her shouting through the thick wood, but the cruel suggestion that he was tired of her? No. Her soul rejected the thought instantly. She refused to believe he could ever push her away because he was sick of her.

Ignited by a desperate mix of love and panic, she spun back toward the door and began banging her fists against the heavy wood.

"Allow me to enter, Daze! Let me in!" she cried out, her voice cracking as she used his private name, the one reserved only for the moments they shared away from the crown. "You don't have to carry this alone! You saved me..."

The guards' eyes widened. Her audacity to scream their king's intimate name right out in the open hallway terrified them.

Without hesitation, they lunged forward, grabbing her arms and dragging her away from the door with rough, ungentle movements, almost yanking her completely off her feet.

Felda staggered backward, her sandals slipping against the stone floor, her balance completely gone. She braced herself to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of tender, familiar hands caught her by the shoulders, steadying her before she could fall.

"Are you all insane?"

Tovanna’s voice roared out, sharp and furious like a young wolf cornered.

The guards froze instantly, their eyes darting down as they recognized the fierce glare of the king's only daughter. They bowed their heads immediately, stepping back in a mix of respect and fear.

"What do you think you're doing to her?" Tovanna demanded, her chest heaving slightly as she shielded her mother with her own small body.

Felda quickly caught her breath, reaching out to gently grab her daughter's arm, trying to calm the girl's fiery anger before it got out of hand.

"Leave them be, Tovanna. It's not their fault," Felda urged softly, her voice trembling.

"No, Mother, you need to teach these dogs their proper place!" Tovanna argued back, her young eyes flashing with dangerous heat. "They have no right to lay hands on you!"

Felda shook her head, pulling her daughter closer. "It's not their fault. They are just following an order straight from the king himself. Let's just leave them."

Hearing those words, Tovanna slowly stopped fighting. She turned her head, her gaze locking onto the massive, forbidding door of her father's chamber.

Her young heart tightened painfully in her chest. She had spent her entire life longing for this man, dreaming of the day she would finally know what it felt like to have a father.

And now that she was finally here, this was how he treated them? Shutting them out in the cold while he suffered behind a locked barrier?

Driven by her own deep sadness and a bitter sting of rejection, Tovanna let out a quiet, defeated sigh. She stopped fighting the guards but warned them to never try the nonsense again, then she wrapped her arm gently around her mother's wrist and led Felda away from the cruel silence of the royal door.

•••

Two full days passed in heavy, suffocating silence.

During that time, a strange and unsettling rumor swept through the entire pack like wildfire.

The king had officially called for a mandatory gathering.

Every single pack member, warrior, servant, and elder was commanded to meet at the main pack hall by evening for a major royal announcement.

No one knew what it was about.

Whispers and anxious speculations bounced off the stone walls from sunrise to sunset, because never once in all his years of ruling had the king ever called everyone together so suddenly, without any warning or explanation.

The air in the pack was thick with dread, and every wolf could feel that a massive storm was about to break.