Chapter four
1242 Words
Kael could still feel him.
Even hours later.
The sensation lingered beneath her skin like a wound that refused to close.
She stood alone inside the royal training chamber, breathing hard while silver blades clashed violently in her hands. Sweat darkened the collar of her black combat shirt as she drove another strike into the armored training dummy hard enough to split the metal frame apart.
The impact echoed through the empty chamber.
Kael stared at the destroyed dummy in silence.
Then anger surged again.
She grabbed another blade immediately.
Her movements became sharper.
Faster.
More violent.
Every strike carried the same thought burning inside her head.
What happened in the courtyard?
The pain.
The pressure.
The impossible reaction between her and Ronan Vale.
None of it made sense.
Her wolf remained silent.
Completely silent.
Kael slammed another strike forward.
Metal exploded across the floor.
“Still trying to kill the training equipment?”
Darius leaned against the chamber entrance watching her carefully.
Kael lowered the blade slowly.
“You should knock.”
“You should stop destroying royal property every time you get frustrated.”
“I am not frustrated.”
Darius looked at the shattered metal scattered across the floor.
“Of course not.”
Kael turned away before he could study her expression too closely.
She hated that people noticed things around her lately.
The hesitation.
The instability.
The moments where her control slipped.
Darius walked further inside the chamber.
“You disappeared after Ronan arrived.”
“I had no reason to stay.”
“That reaction between you two says otherwise.”
Kael’s grip tightened instantly around the blade.
Dangerous territory.
Darius noticed immediately.
His voice lowered.
“You felt it too.”
Kael finally looked at him.
Cold.
Controlled.
“What exactly do you think I felt?”
He hesitated.
That alone irritated her.
Nobody hesitated around Kael unless fear was involved.
“A mate bond,” Darius admitted quietly.
The words crashed into the room heavily.
Kael laughed once.
Short.
Humorless.
“No.”
“You nearly collapsed.”
“I reacted to pressure from an Alpha.”
“You have fought stronger Alphas without blinking.”
Silence.
Kael hated that he was right.
The memory of Ronan’s eyes locking onto hers returned instantly.
Predatory.
Sharp.
Like he already saw through her somehow.
Her chest tightened again.
Not pain this time.
Something worse.
Awareness.
Kael threw the training blade across the chamber hard enough to c***k stone.
“There is no mate bond.”
Darius studied her quietly.
Then finally asked the question she feared most.
“Then why do you look terrified?”
Kael froze.
Only for a second.
But he saw it.
Damn him.
“I am not terrified.”
“Kael.”
“I said enough.”
Her voice cracked through the chamber sharply enough to end the conversation.
Darius exhaled slowly.
Then stepped back toward the exit.
But before leaving, he paused.
“The Council assigned Ronan and his warriors rooms inside the eastern palace wing.”
Kael’s expression darkened instantly.
“Why?”
“They claim it is additional protection before the Moon Rite.”
Protection.
Or surveillance.
Kael no longer trusted anything connected to the Council.
Not after the sealed records.
Not after the servant’s death.
Not after Malachai’s warning.
Something older is moving beneath this kingdom.
The words had stayed inside her head all night.
Darius watched her carefully one last time.
“Be careful around Ronan Vale.”
Kael almost scoffed.
“As if I need that advice.”
But after he left, silence returned again.
And for the first time in years, Kael realized something deeply unsettling.
She did not know how to control what she felt around another person.
Especially not someone dangerous enough to destroy her balance this quickly.
Across the palace, Ronan Vale sat inside a private war chamber surrounded by sealed documents.
His expression remained unreadable as he flipped through another royal record.
Empty.
Again.
Ronan leaned back slowly in his chair.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Most royal heirs had endless documented history.
Combat records.
Political tutors.
Territory evaluations.
Family bloodline reports.
Kael’s records looked clean enough to be manufactured.
Entire years missing.
Medical files sealed personally by the Lunar Council.
Witness statements erased.
Even childhood training reports disappeared before age twelve.
No one erased that much information unless they were hiding something catastrophic.
One of Ronan’s warriors entered quietly.
“Nothing?”
Ronan tossed another file aside.
“The Council buried almost everything connected to the heir’s childhood.”
His Beta frowned.
“That alone is suspicious.”
“No.” Ronan’s eyes darkened slightly. “What is suspicious is how terrified they are of anyone finding out why.”
The Beta lowered his voice.
“You think the rumors are true?”
Ronan remembered the moment he looked into Kael’s silver eyes.
The violent pain that followed.
The savage reaction from his wolf.
Not attraction.
Recognition.
Something primal inside him reacted to Kael immediately.
And his wolf had not stopped pacing since.
“What exactly did you feel?” his Beta asked carefully.
Ronan went silent briefly.
Then answered honestly.
“Wrongness.”
The Beta frowned deeper.
“That is not possible with a mate bond.”
“I know.”
Because mate bonds were not supposed to feel like war.
But when he looked at Kael, instinct screamed two completely different things simultaneously.
Protect.
Destroy.
Ronan hated uncertainty.
And Kael Nocturne was becoming filled with it.
A knock sounded against the chamber door.
Another warrior stepped inside.
“The merchants entered through the southern gates.”
Ronan’s expression sharpened immediately.
“How many?”
“Six carts. Trade permits verified.”
“Verified by who?”
“The Council.”
That made his instincts worse instantly.
Ronan stood.
“Watch them anyway.”
The warrior nodded and disappeared.
Ronan moved toward the large palace window overlooking Noctara below.
Rain still covered the capital in gray shadows while crowds moved through the streets preparing for the Sacred Moon Rite.
But beneath the normal movement, tension spread everywhere.
Fear.
Political instability.
Violence waiting for an excuse.
Ronan could smell it in the air.
And somehow, all roads seemed connected to one person.
Kael Nocturne.
Meanwhile, deep within the lower districts of Noctara, six merchant carts rolled through narrow stone streets beneath heavy rain.
Nobody looked at them twice.
That was the point.
Inside the final cart, a hooded man slowly sharpened a silver dagger against black cloth.
Another figure entered quietly.
“The palace security increased.”
The assassin did not stop sharpening the blade.
“What about the heir?”
“Still heavily guarded.”
Silence followed.
Then the assassin finally looked up.
Cold dead eyes.
“No guard is impossible to bypass.”
The second figure lowered his voice carefully.
“The Council moves the Moon Rite in five days.”
A faint smile touched the assassin’s mouth.
“Then we strike before that.”
He reached inside his coat and re
moved a folded parchment sealed with black wax.
Inside was a rough sketch of Kael Nocturne’s face.
Across the image, one sentence had been carved deeply into the paper.
The false king must die.
The assassin stared at the words for several long seconds before finally speaking.
“Send word to the others.”
His voice turned colder.
“Kill the heir before the Moon Rite begins.”
- Writer
