Chapter 65 Mate - Aleksandr’s POV
I stared at the untouched glass of whiskey on my desk, watching dust motes dance in the shaft of late afternoon sunlight that cut through my office window. Two days. Two endless days since Amelia had walked out of the castle and out of my life. The whiskey had been sitting there just as long—poured in that moment of stunned disbelief when security footage confirmed what the ransacked room and scattered photographs had suggested. I hadn't touched a drop. Pain was all I had left of her, and I wouldn't dull it, wouldn't dishonour what we'd had by seeking escape. That was the lie I told myself, anyway. The truth was simpler: I deserved this agony.
'Not gone,' Skoll insisted for the hundredth time, his presence a restless pacing in our shared mind. 'Mate wouldn't leave. Something wrong.'
"She saw the photos," I said aloud, my voice rough from disuse. "She saw what we did to Marcus."
'Justice,' Skoll growled. 'Alpha punishment. Mate understands justice.'
I ran a hand through my unwashed hair, my fingers catching on tangles I hadn't bothered to comb out. My reflection in the window showed a man I barely recognised—hollow-eyed, stubble darkening my jaw, shirt wrinkled from being worn too long. I looked like what I was: a king coming undone.
'Find mate,' Skoll urged, pushing against my consciousness with increasing desperation. 'Search city. Follow scent.'
"The trail's gone cold." Another lie. I hadn't even tried to follow her scent. Hadn't sent guards to search. Because deep down, beneath the pain and rage, a small, selfish part of me was relieved. Relieved that she had escaped before the curse consumed me completely. Before I hurt her in ways that couldn't be forgiven.
My phone buzzed, the sound jarring in the tomb-like quiet of my office. I glanced at the screen, a bitter laugh escaping me when I saw the message from Kane: Council meeting. 15 minutes. Urgent matters to discuss.
Of course. The vultures were circling.
I considered ignoring the summons. Let them wait. Let them wonder. Let them feel a fraction of the powerlessness I felt. But the weight of the kingdom—a burden I'd carried for so long I scarcely noticed it anymore—pressed down on me. Whatever else I was, whatever else I'd lost, I was still their king.
For now.
I pushed away from the desk, the chair legs scraping harshly against the floor. My muscles ached from too many hours spent motionless, lost in memories of mismatched eyes and gentle smiles. I didn't bother changing my shirt or attempting to make myself presentable. Let them see what their king had become. Let them face the consequences of what was coming.
The walk to the council chamber felt longer than usual, each step a deliberate choice against Skoll's urging to turn around, to abandon this farce and search for Amelia. Guards and servants flattened themselves against walls as I passed, their eyes downcast, their scents sharp with fear. They could sense it—the curse gathering strength, the beast clawing ever closer to the surface. Their instincts warned them that their king was becoming dangerous.
They were right to be afraid.
The massive doors to the council chamber swung open at my approach, the guards stationed outside careful not to meet my gaze. Inside, three figures waited around the ancient stone table—Kane, rigid and watchful; Blackstone, drumming his fingers impatiently; and Elder Nora, her ancient eyes tracking my entrance with an intensity that might have unsettled me if I'd had any capacity left for such feelings.
"Where's Blackthorn?" I asked by way of greeting, noticing the empty fourth chair.
Kane cleared his throat. "Councillor Blackthorn sends his regrets. He's fallen ill—some seasonal affliction, nothing serious. He felt it best not to risk spreading it to the court."
'Convenient,' Skoll muttered, his suspicion a dark current beneath my own thoughts.
I took my seat at the head of the table, not bothering with the usual pleasantries. "Let's get this over with. What's so urgent it couldn't wait?"
Kane and Blackstone exchanged glances, some silent communication passing between them before Kane leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table's polished surface.
"Your condition, Your Highness," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "It's deteriorating more rapidly than anticipated."
A laugh escaped me, harsh and humorless. "Is that your professional assessment, Councillor? Based on my appearance?"
"Based on reports from the guard," Blackstone interjected, his merchant's pragmatism evident in his blunt tone. "Two incidents of partial shifting in public corridors. A servant found claw marks on your chamber door this morning. The signs are unmistakable—the curse is accelerating."
He wasn't wrong. I'd felt it these past two days—control slipping away in increments, rage bubbling just beneath the surface, fingers elongating into claws when my thoughts strayed to Amelia. To her absence.
"What do you propose?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"The ball," Kane said promptly, as if he'd been waiting for this opening. "We've already drafted the invitations. With your approval, they could be sent today, the event held within the week."
"Seven days is barely enough time for preparations," Blackstone added, "but given the circumstances, we must move quickly."
'No!' Skoll snarled, surging forward with such force that I felt my canines lengthen in response. 'Amelia is mate! Kaela is mate! No others!'