Azrael’s breath caught in her throat. “What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Valerion stood before her, his expression unreadable.
“Draven wrote me a letter?”
Her father gave a single nod. “Yes.”
The air in the chamber grew heavier, thick with something unspoken. Azrael’s mind raced. Draven had reached out to her? Why hadn’t she heard of this sooner? A letter could mean so many things—an explanation, a warning, a plea.
She stepped forward, eyes locked onto her father’s. “Where is it?”
Valerion didn’t answer.
Her jaw clenched. “Father. Where is the letter?”
Still, he remained silent.
Azrael followed his gaze, her golden eyes flicking toward the large fireplace in the corner. The embers still glowed a deep red, the charred remains of burned parchment barely distinguishable within the flickering flames.
Her breath hitched.
“You…” She swallowed, feeling her chest tighten. “You burned it?”
A long silence stretched between them. Valerion didn’t need to confirm it. His silence spoke louder than any words could.
Azrael’s blood roared in her ears as anger surged through her veins. She took a step forward, hands curling into fists at her sides. “That letter was meant for me! You had no right!”
Valerion’s expression remained composed, unaffected by the fury in her voice. When he finally spoke, his words were as cold as ice. “I did it to stop you from running off and doing something reckless.”
Azrael’s lips parted in disbelief. “Reckless?” she echoed, voice sharp as a dagger’s edge. “When have I ever done something reckless? When have I ever embarrassed you?” Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed forward. “My entire life, I have done nothing but obey you. I have fought, bled, and killed in your name! I have done everything in my power—gone above and beyond—to please you!”
For the first time, something flickered in Valerion’s gaze. It wasn’t remorse. It wasn’t guilt. It was something darker.
Then, in a voice that cut through her like a blade, he said, “Yet here you are. Mated to a Lycan.”
The words struck her harder than any physical blow ever could.
She recoiled as if he had physically struck her, her breath leaving her lungs in a sharp exhale.
“You think I asked for this?” Azrael’s voice cracked, and before she could stop herself, she stepped forward, anger and hurt colliding in her chest. “You think I wanted this? You think I chose to be bound to my enemy?”
Valerion’s silence was suffocating.
Azrael let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Do you know what this means for me? For him? You think I don’t know that our people will have our heads the day they find out?” Her voice trembled with frustration. “You think I would willingly put all of us in danger?”
Still, Valerion did not answer.
Azrael ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, betrayal, confusion. She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to calm down.
“Tell me what the letter said,” she demanded.
Valerion studied her for a long moment before he finally spoke.
“Draven’s mother found out that you are his mate.”
Azrael stiffened.
At first, she was too shocked to speak. “And?”
Valerion’s next words made the ground beneath her feet feel unsteady.
“She arranged a new mate for him.”
The room fell deathly silent.
Azrael stared at him, her golden eyes widening in disbelief. “What?”
Valerion remained composed. “Draven wrote to you asking for advice. He wanted you to reach out to him.” His voice was calm, devoid of emotion. “Because he was set to announce his new arranged mate as his Luna. And mark her.”
A sharp, searing pain shot through Azrael’s chest.
Draven. Taking another mate.
Draven. Marking someone else.
The very thought sent a primal rage coursing through her.
Her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists. “When?” she whispered, voice strained. “When did the letter arrive?”
“A day before the ball.”
A strangled sound left Azrael’s lips.
“You—” Her voice broke. She inhaled sharply, gathering herself before glaring at her father. “You knew. You knew this whole time, and you said nothing?”
Valerion’s expression didn’t waver. “I didn’t tell you because I needed you here when Seraphim arrived.”
Azrael let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Of course. Of course you did.”
Her body shook with anger, but beneath the rage, a deep sense of hurt settled into her bones. He hadn’t even given her the chance to respond. To decide for herself what to do.
Her voice was raw when she spoke next. “You destroyed my only chance to reach out to him.”
Valerion’s crimson gaze darkened. “I did what was necessary.”
Azrael’s hands curled at her sides, nails biting into her palms.
Her father was powerful. Calculated. Feared. But at this moment, she didn’t care about any of that.
Her golden eyes burned with defiance as she met his unyielding gaze.
“I will reach out to Draven,” she said, voice steady and unshaken. “And there's nothing you can do to stop me.”
Valerion’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could respond, Azrael turned on her heel and stormed out of his chambers, slamming the doors behind her.