Chapter 56 A Way Out
Dahila’s POV
Sleep refused to claim me that night. Liam’s breathing was soft and steady against my arm, his fever finally lowered, but my heart would not follow his calm. Across the dim chamber, I could feel Dagnoth’s presence like heat against bare skin. He wasn’t touching me. He wasn’t even looking at me.
Yet I was aware of him in a way that made my pulse restless. The silence between us was not empty; it was tight with restraint.
When I closed my eyes, memory betrayed me.
Years ago, before titles and territory, before secrets tangled around my throat, I had met him in a forest far from here. I had been reckless then, angry at fate, daring the world to challenge me.
He had stepped out from the shadows like something carved from the night itself, tall, alert, dangerous. He asked who I was, and instead of answering like a sensible woman, I had challenged him.
There had been something electric in the way we circled each other, trading sharp words like blades. He studied me as though I was a puzzle worth solving, and I had felt seen in a way that unsettled me.
That night, when my unstable transformation overtook me, he caught me before I collapsed. I still remembered the steadiness of his hands and the quiet command in his voice when he told me to breathe.
But I left before sunrise, before recognition could settle in his eyes, before he could scent the truth of what I was carrying. I convinced myself it was safer that way.
Now I lay in his chambers, our son sleeping between us, and he had no idea.
A low voice broke through the dark. “You’re not asleep.”
I opened my eyes. His back was still turned, but he knew. “Neither are you,” I replied.
“You’re planning something,” he said evenly.
I hesitated, then answered, “I’m thinking.”
“About leaving.”
It wasn’t a question. I didn’t deny it.
He shifted slightly, and though I couldn’t see his face clearly, I felt the weight of his awareness sharpen. “You won’t make it past the outer gates unnoticed.”
“Watch me,” I murmured, stubborn even when fear was coiled inside my chest.
“Dahila,” he said quietly, “running will not erase what’s coming.”
The way he said my name did something dangerous to me. I turned away and pretended to sleep, waiting for his breathing to deepen. Waiting for my chance.
When the fire burned low and the chamber darkened into true night, I slipped from the bed carefully, lifting Liam into my arms. He stirred but didn’t cry out. I moved toward the door, pausing only once to glance back at Dagnoth’s still form. He didn’t move. I convinced myself he was asleep.
The corridor beyond was silent. Torchlight flickered against stone walls as I hurried toward the eastern wing. Lilly and Libby were already stirring when I entered their room.
They looked at me with wide, trusting eyes, asking no questions when I told them we were leaving. I wrapped them in cloaks and guided them through servant passages I had memorized during my stay.
The outer garden gates came into view, and hope swelled painfully in my chest.
Freedom was only a few steps away. If we could reach the forest before dawn, we would disappear before the seer arrived.
We stepped into the cold night air.
That was when the growl came.
It was low and unfamiliar. Not pack. Not safe.
Three rogues emerged from the tree line, their movements slow and predatory. One of them laughed softly when he scented us. “Well,” he said, “looks like we found something valuable.”
I shifted the children behind me, forcing my fear down. “Stay close,” I whispered to them.
The rogues circled, confident in their numbers. I knew I could fight one, maybe two, but not without risking the children. When the first lunged, I braced myself to shift but a massive blur of fur and fury collided with him mid-air.
The impact shook the ground.
Dagnoth.
His wolf was enormous, power radiating from him like a storm breaking loose. He moved with lethal precision, throwing one rogue aside as though he weighed nothing.
The others faltered instantly, their bravado crumbling under the dominance rolling off him.
“You dare approach what is under my protection?” his growl seemed to vibrate through the earth itself.
One rogue tried to flee. Dagnoth was faster. The confrontation ended as swiftly as it began, leaving silence heavy in the aftermath. The remaining rogues disappeared into the trees.
He shifted back, unashamed of his nudity, unbothered by anything except the fury burning in his eyes. When his gaze locked onto mine, I felt the full weight of it.
“You were leaving,” he said, voice controlled but sharp as steel.
“Yes,” I answered, lifting my chin despite the tremor in my chest.
“You walked them into rogue territory.”
“I was trying to protect them.”
“By running blindly into the night?” His jaw tightened. “You endangered them.”
Anger flared inside me. “You don’t understand what’s coming.”
“Then tell me,” he demanded.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just us. The children clung to my sides, silent and shaken. His expression shifted from anger to something more complicated—hurt, perhaps, or frustration.
“You think I would let harm come to them?” he asked quietly.
The memory of his hands catching me years ago surfaced again, unwanted and vivid. My voice softened despite myself. “There is too much at stake.”
“Then let me stand in it with you,” he said.
The sincerity in his tone almost broke me.
Before I could answer, a horn split the night air from the northern wall—sharp and urgent. Dagnoth’s head snapped toward the sound, every muscle in his body tightening.
“That isn’t a rogue alarm,” he muttered.
He looked back at me, eyes dark with realization. “Someone knew you would run.”
The words settled cold in my stomach.
This wasn’t coincidence. The attack had been timed. Planned.
And as dread crept through me, I understood something far worse than rogues lurking beyond the gates.
The danger was already inside the palace.