Chapter 20
994 Words
"When a king walks into a kingdom, the powerful bow… and the guilty begin to tremble."
Morning arrived over Blackwood territory with an unusual tension hanging in the air.
The forest surrounding the pack lands seemed quieter than usual, as if even the animals could sense that something important was about to happen. A pale mist rolled between the towering pine trees, drifting slowly toward the stone walls of the pack compound.
Inside the pack house, chaos had taken over.
Servants rushed through the halls carrying polished goblets, ceremonial fabrics, and trays of food meant for the feast that would follow Valen Blackwood’s Alpha ceremony. The scent of roasted meat and burning incense filled the great hall as decorations were placed along the walls.
Everyone was preparing.
But no one was relaxed.
Because of one reason.
The Lycan Prince was arriving today.
Even the warriors spoke quietly about it while sharpening their weapons.
A Lycan royal rarely visited a werewolf pack. When they did, it meant that the eyes of the entire wolf world were watching.
And no one wanted to embarrass themselves before a prince of Silvermoon.
Isolde moved silently through the great hall with a tray of polished cups balanced carefully in her hands.
Her ribs still ached from the beating Kael had given her days earlier, and every deep breath reminded her of the pain. But she had learned long ago that complaining only brought more punishment.
So she worked quietly.
Invisible.
Just the way the pack preferred her.
But today something felt different.
Her wolf had been restless since dawn.
Not angry.
Not frightened.
Excited.
A strange warmth pulsed beneath her skin as if something inside her was slowly waking up.
It made her uneasy.
She set the tray carefully onto a long wooden table before glancing toward the tall windows overlooking the forest.
The mist was clearing now.
Sunlight touched the tops of the trees.
And far in the distance…
Something moved.
The faint thunder of horses.
Isolde frowned slightly.
Moments later, the sound reached the pack house gates.
A horn blew loudly across the compound.
The noise instantly sent wolves rushing toward the courtyard.
“He’s here,” someone whispered.
“The prince has arrived.”
Excitement rippled through the pack like wildfire.
Warriors quickly straightened their uniforms. Noble daughters adjusted their dresses and hurried toward the entrance of the great hall.
Even the elders moved faster than usual.
Everyone wanted to see the Lycan Prince.
Everyone except Isolde.
She quietly stepped aside, lowering her head as the crowd surged past her.
Servants were not meant to be seen during important arrivals.
But curiosity tugged at her despite herself.
Carefully, she moved closer to one of the tall pillars near the entrance hall, keeping herself hidden behind the crowd.
Outside the massive wooden doors, the sound of hooves stopped.
The gates opened.
And the courtyard fell silent.
A line of black-armored riders entered first, their armor etched with silver moon symbols that glinted under the sunlight. Each warrior carried himself with quiet discipline, their eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp focus.
Lycan royal guards.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier as they entered the courtyard.
But then the final rider stepped forward.
And the entire atmosphere changed.
Prince Ariel Silvermoon dismounted his horse slowly.
The moment his boots touched the ground, a wave of pressure rolled across the courtyard like an invisible storm.
Wolves felt it instantly.
Heads lowered instinctively.
Some warriors even stepped back.
Lycan dominance.
Ariel stood tall among his guards, towering over most of the wolves present. His long silver hair shifted slightly in the wind, catching the sunlight like strands of moonlight.
His pale silver eyes swept calmly across the courtyard.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
His presence alone commanded attention.
Several noblewomen immediately began whispering excitedly among themselves.
“Look at him…”
“He’s even more handsome than the rumors said.”
“My daughter would make a perfect match for him.”
Young she-wolves stared openly now, some blushing while others quickly fixed their hair or dresses.
But Ariel ignored all of them.
His attention remained calm.
Detached.
Until something changed.
As he stepped toward the pack house doors…
A scent brushed against his senses.
Faint.
Soft.
Yet unmistakable.
His body went still.
The world around him seemed to fade.
His Lycan surged violently beneath his skin.
Mate.
The word echoed through his mind with ancient certainty.
Ariel’s silver eyes darkened slightly.
Impossible.
He had traveled through dozens of territories throughout his life without once sensing his destined mate.
Yet here…
In this pack…
The scent was undeniable.
His gaze slowly lifted toward the entrance hall.
Inside, hidden behind the crowd of wolves, Isolde stood quietly near a pillar.
She felt it the moment he looked toward the hall.
A strange pull tightened in her chest.
Her wolf surged violently for the first time in her life.
A powerful heat spread through her veins.
Her breath caught.
Confusion washed over her.
What was happening?
Across the courtyard, Ariel took a single step forward.
Then another.
Drawn by a force older than either of them.
The wolves surrounding him stepped aside instinctively as he moved toward the entrance.
Inside the hall, whispers began spreading through the crowd.
“Why is he coming inside already?”
“Isn’t the ceremony tomorrow?”
No one understood.
Except Cassiana.
Standing near the front of the hall beside Valen, she watched the prince carefully.
Her sharp eyes followed the direction of his gaze.
And slowly…
Her smile disappeared.
Because she realized exactly where he was looking.
Isolde.
A cold realization slid through her mind.
No.
That could not be happening.
Beside her, Valen noticed the same thing.
And for the first time since rejecting Isolde…
A deep, instinctive dread began forming in his chest.
Because the most powerful man in the wolf world…
Was walking directly toward the girl he had thrown away.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD