Chapter 64 The Symphony of Scent 1
Elara collapsed back onto the silk bedding, her gaze drifting toward the small, high window of the royal tent.
The evening light was pale, filtering through the heavy fabric in dusty shafts. Beside her, Liora and Faye stood in a corner, their hands clasped nervously, clearly not knowing what to do or say.
She turned her head, the image of Ronan’s departing expression burned into her mind. He hadn't looked angry when he left. He had looked... hollowed out. Bleeding without a wound.
The weight of everything came crashing down. Now that his presence was gone, her senses, no longer muffled by his scent, surged into overdrive. She could perceive the sharp, metallic scent of the warriors patrolling the camp perimeter. She could hear the frantic, fluttering heartbeats of the two maids as they beat loudly against their chests.
"So this is what it feels like," Elara muttered under her breath.
She wasn't sure if she was referring to the raw electricity of shifting or the confusing, magnetic pull of the man who had just walked out.
Lyra’s presence brushed against her thoughts like a warm, velvet shadow. "You are being too hard on him," the wolf whispered, her voice tinged with a rare softness. "All he has done since pulling us from those woods is protect us. We should be happy he is still willing to stand in the gap."
Elara rolled over, hugging a fur-lined pillow to her chest as she sighed. "I’m just scared, Lyra. What if he ends up like Draven? What if the power makes him the same?"
Lyra’s disapproval flickered like a dying flame. "We have had this conversation before. You will never know unless you try. And besides, there is still Pandora waiting in the wings to take your place."
The mention of the Southern noblewoman made Elara’s stomach churn with a sudden, sharp wave of disgust. "Pandora isn’t all that," she grumbled.
"Exactly," Lyra purred. "So get some rest. When you wake up tomorrow, you are going to be very busy with wooing our King."
Elara hummed, the thought finally lulling her into a restless sleep. "Yeah... busy with wooing Ronan."
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The next morning, Elara woke feeling more refreshed than she had in months. She wasn't sure if it was the completion of her first shift or the lingering peace of her conversation with Lyra, but the paralyzing fear had receded into a dull throb. She knew that staying hidden and refusing to give Ronan a chance was a path that led only to regret.
"My Lady, breakfast is ready," Liora’s voice rang from outside the tent.
Elara hopped down from the bed, her feet hitting the ornate rug. "Skip breakfast!" she called out, her heart suddenly racing with a new purpose. "I’m going to find him."
"My, my," Lyra teased, her voice brimming with a playful snicker. "Aren't we eager to see the King this morning? You're tracking him like a wolf who’s found her North Star."
"Hush, Lyra," Elara whispered, her face heating up.
Before the maids could even open the flap, Elara bolted out of the tent. She didn't grab her mask. She didn't even grab her shoes. She ran into the crisp morning air in nothing but her thin night robe, earning panicked shrieks from Liora and Faye, who scrambled to chase after her with her discarded shoes and a heavier cloak.
She tracked Ronan’s scent with an instinct that felt as natural as breathing. It led her toward a vacant section of the camp near the eastern treeline. Lyra snickered in her mind, mocking how easily she had navigated the area as if she had lived there her whole life. Elara felt a blush creep up her neck, but she didn't stop.
She was so focused on the trail that she didn't see the uneven root protruding from the dirt. She tripped, a low scream escaping her lips as she pitched forward.
Liora and Faye gasped in unison behind her. "My Lady!"
But Elara didn't hit the ground. She slammed into a sturdy, familiar, and utterly annoying figure. The impact knocked the wind out of her, and her heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't even need to look up to know who had caught her.
"Well, well, well," Draven’s voice rang out, vibrating with a dark, oily amusement. "Look who we have here."
Elara froze. The warmth of the morning sun seemed to vanish, replaced by a cold, numbing dread. She tried to break free from his grip, but her body refused to obey.
"Draven," she gritted out, her voice trembling.
He snickered, steadying her against his chest but refusing to let go. "So you were here the entire time," he whispered.
Elara shoved against him, finally finding her strength. He found his scent familiar, yet it was now nauseating compared to the clean, wild smell of the woods.
"You have no idea how long I’ve been looking for you," he said, his hand shooting out to grab her chin forcefully.
Elara let out a low squeak of pain as he tilted her head back. Liora and Faye, seeing their charge in danger, didn't hesitate. They snarled, their features shifting into their half-lycan forms.
"Unhand her!" Liora barked.
Draven scoffed, his red eyes scanning the two maids with disdain. "So now even low-born maids dare to go against an Alpha because of you? Tell me, Elara, who are you sleeping with now to earn such loyalty? Varkai is ready to rip the skin off any man for touching his mate!"
"I am not your mate!" Elara gritted out as she shoved his hand away with newfound resolve, motioning for Faye and Liora to stand down. She turned to face him, her heart racing. "Who I am with has nothing to do with you, Draven. Shouldn't you be with your Luna?"
"Luna?" Draven chuckled, the sound dry and hollow. "Oh, you mean Cierce?" He lowered his head, his breath hot against her ear. His eyes narrowed, taking in the shimmering, moonlight-silver hair that had replaced the dull black locks she’d had in Northwood. "You’ve changed. You look like a ghost and you sound jealous."
"I am not jealous," she snapped.
"It’s a good thing I found you," he continued, his voice dropping to a possessive growl. "Finally, I can take you back 'home' where you rightfully belong."
"I am never going back to Northwood with you," she said firmly.
Draven struck a mock thinking pose. "Well, it wasn't a suggestion. It was an order."