Chapter 94 The Lost Princess
"What did you just say?" Elara bellowed as the ember lights flickered under her influence.
Pandora smirked, "You heard me." She leaned into Elara and taunted her, "What are you going to do about it? Pass out again?"
Liora and Faye bristled, their hands dropping to the hilt of their blades, but Elara moved first. Her fingers closed around Pandora’s throat with the speed of a strike, pinning the redhead against the cold masonry. The maids’ gasps rippled through the hall like a wave.
“I am tired of your voice, Pandora,” Elara whispered, her eyes swirling with a molten, dangerous red.
Pandora clawed at Elara’s wrist, but her smirk didn't fade. Even as she struggled for air, she leaned into the space between them. “You think a mark makes you special?” she wheezed. “Ronan might have claimed you, but don’t forget who he came to first. I was the first woman he ever touched with real passion. I know his body in ways you’ll never understand. You’re just the fated obligation. I was his choice.”
The words hit Elara harder than a physical blow. A cold, hollow ache opened in her chest. The first woman. Jealousy, sharp and bitter, flooded her system, followed closely by a sickening sense of betrayal.
Inside her mind, Lyra let out a jagged, feral snarl. "He has a lot of explaining to do. A lot."
The distraction was all Pandora needed. She wrenched herself free from Elara’s momentary lapse in grip, staggering back into the arms of Kira, who stepped forward to support her. Pandora rubbed her throat, her laughter sounding jagged and wet.
“See? Weak,” Pandora mocked, adjusting her disheveled red hair with trembling fingers. “You can’t even hold a grudge without falling apart.”
Elara forced a smirk, though her blood was boiling. She stepped closer, her shadow lengthening against the floor. “I may be weak in your eyes, Pandora, but I am the one wearing his mark. He chose me over the strong Southern Princess. He chose me over you.”
She reached out, flicking a stray red hair off Pandora’s shoulder with a condescending click of her tongue. “And the last time I recalled, you were under house arrest. If I want you locked in a hole until you rot, Ronan will listen to me. After all, he would do anything for me.”
Pandora slapped Elara’s hand away, her face contorting with rage. “Don’t get used to the throne. Sooner or later, he’ll realize a doll isn't enough to lead a pack. He’ll ditch you.”
“We shall see about that,” Elara said.
She spun on her heels, her cloak billowing behind her as she marched away. Her heart was a drum of fury, and every step felt like she was stomping on the memories of the morning.
“My Lady!” Liora called out, rushing to keep pace. “Lady Elara, wait!”
“I’m fine,” Elara snapped, her voice cracking.
She wanted to see Ronan. She wanted to scream at him. But more than that, she wanted to be anywhere but here. She closed her eyes, forcing a mental path through the static of the bond.
"Ronan."
"Elara? Are you alright—"
"I’m going for a run," she cut in, her mental tone cold and flat.
"No," Ronan’s voice rang back instantly, laced with a sharp spike of panic. "You shouldn't go anywhere. You just woke up from—"
"I’m not sick, Ronan. And I’m not a prisoner."
"Wait for me. I’m almost finished with the council."
"No," she replied, her anger flaring. "I don’t want to come between you and your precious meeting. Or you and the memory of your first lover."
She slammed the mental door shut, cutting off the link before he could respond. She didn't look back at Faye or Liora.
“Lady Elara, please,” Faye pleaded. “Let us come with you. If it’s about what Pandora said—”
“It’s not about her!” Elara yelled, stopping at the edge of the palace gates. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. “I’m sorry. I just… I need to think. If I’m not back by noon, come for me. But for now, leave me alone.”
Before they could protest, she leaped into the air. Mid-flight, her bones cracked and shifted, her human form stretching into the sleek, powerful shape of a silver wolf. She hit the grass running, her paws thumping rhythmically against the earth as she disappeared into the dense treeline.
Back at the gate, Faye exhaled slowly. “She’s grown up.”
Liora smacked her arm. “Shut up, Faye.”
Elara ran until her lungs burned. The morning breeze whistled through her fur, but it couldn't cool the fire in her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ronan tangled with Pandora. Was that why he kept her here? Was she just a biological necessity of the bond?
Lyra, who usually defended him, remained uncharacteristically silent.
They pushed deeper into the woods, crossing into territory that felt ancient and strange. The trees grew taller here, their leaves broad and dark, and strange, neon-capped mushrooms sprouted among the roots of stones that formed a natural pathway toward the south.
Elara slowed to a prowl, her ears twitching. She reached a small, crystal-clear stream and bent her head to drink, catching her reflection in the water. Am I just a tool to him?
Suddenly, the hair on her neck stood up. A shadow flickered behind a wide oak.
Elara snapped her head around, a guttural growl vibrating in her chest. Someone was there. She shifted back into her human form, standing in a defensive stance. In her rage, she didn't even care that she was standing naked in the damp moss; all she felt was the need to strike something.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” she screamed.
She raised her hand, and for the first time, she didn't just feel the heat—she commanded it. A ball of violet, crackling energy formed in her palm. She spotted a figure darting between the trees and hurled the magic.
The figure dodged with unnatural speed, the energy exploding against a trunk and showering the area in sparks.
"A rogue," Lyra hissed. "He smells like a threat. Call Ronan."
“No,” Elara gritted her teeth. “I’ll handle this myself.”
She shifted back into her wolf form, her silver fur bristling as she gave chase. She moved with a new, terrifying fluidity—a combination of her wolf’s instinct and the Sovereign’s raw speed. She gained on the intruder within seconds.
As she leaped to tackle him, she shifted mid-air. The Wolf Speed carried her through the jump while her hands ignited with Witch Fire. She slammed into the man, the violet flames singeing the air as they tumbled into a clearing.
The rogue, a man with matted, bright red hair, let out a piercing scream. He rolled onto his back, cowering and holding his hands up. “Please! Stop! I was just looking for food! My family… we’re starving!”
His voice was pathetic, dripping with a desperation that made Elara’s heart hesitate. She lowered her hand, the violet fire flickering out as she looked at his bruised, dirty face.
“You’re a rogue,” she whispered, her guard slipping for a fraction of a second. "And you're on the Lycan property..."
The man’s eyes shifted. The sympathy vanished, replaced by a jagged, murderous glint. He lunged, his claws extended to rip open her throat.
Elara gasped, too slow to react. She braced for the impact, for the cold bite of steel-hard claws—but it never came.
instead, a massive, overwhelming aura slammed into the clearing. It felt ancient, heavy, and strangely familiar.
"Family," Lyra whispered, her voice filled with a sudden, reverent awe. "Family is here."
“Family?” Elara breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
As if in answer, three massive white wolves stepped out from the shadows of the ancient trees. They moved with a synchronized, lethal grace, surrounding the rogue in seconds.
Then, a fourth wolf stepped into the center. He was enormous, his fur a pure, blinding white that seemed to glow against the dark forest floor. He didn't growl; he simply stood there, his presence commanding the very air.
The rogue whimpered, collapsing into a heap as the white wolf shifted into a man. He was tall, his features carved from the same regal stone as Elara’s, his eyes a piercing, familiar silver.
He didn't look at the rogue. He looked at Elara, then sank to one knee, bowing his head deeply.
“We greet you,” he said, his voice echoing through the grove like thunder. “Lost Princess.”