Chapter 12 #2
Seth grins despite the tension. “True. But Celeste doesn’t know that.”
“We’ll need more witnesses to testify in Daciana’s favor,” Lucian says grimly. “This could get ugly.”
“My entire delegation will attest to the wolfsbane attack.” I meet Lucian’s gaze. “Every single one of them.”
Lucian mutters under his breath, “Of course they will.”
I look at Astra. Really look at her. The exhaustion in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. She looks worn down, stretched thin.
“Your Majesty.” My voice cuts through the room. “You should keep your mate by your side at all times. It would be advisable for the Queen not to venture into her herb garden where she can be vulnerable.”
Daciana’s head whips toward me, confusion flooding the bond. She doesn’t know. I never told her about the prophecy.
Astra’s expression shifts from anger to unhappiness. “I’m willing to increase guards while I’m in the garden, but my plants will die without my care.”
“Astra—” Lucian starts.
“No.” Her voice rises, sharp and final. “I won’t be imprisoned in my own home. I won’t live in fear.”
“This isn’t about fear, it’s about—”
“I said no!” She whirls toward the door, her shoulders rigid as she leaves the study. “I won’t discuss this further.”
The door slams shut behind her.
Daciana moves to follow, but Lucian holds up a hand. “I’ll deal with it.” His voice is weary, aged by worry. “The pregnancy has been hard on her, and then there’s the stress of the prophecy. She’s not dealing well with all of it.”
He follows Astra out, leaving the rest of us in tense silence.
Seth and Leon exchange glances, then make their excuses and leave. The study is now empty but for Daciana and me.
She turns to me, her eyes searching. “What was that all about? The herb garden? A prophecy?”
I take a breath. “Let’s go back to our quarters. There are some things I need to tell you.”
Back in her room, Daciana paces. Back and forth across the small space, her movements restless.
I watch her from where I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling her confusion and worry rippling through our bond.
“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?” She stops, turning to face me. Her voice is quiet, but I hear the hurt beneath it. “About the prophecy. About the war. About Astra being in danger.”
Through the bond, I feel her emotions—not anger, but something softer. Pain. Uncertainty. She’s trying to understand why I kept this from her.
“I was trying to protect you,” I say. “I didn’t want to—”
“I’m her guard, Kieran.” She crosses her arms, her expression troubled. “I’m supposed to know these things. You left me in the dark.”
The words hit their mark. She’s right. Completely right.
“I am sorry, Daciana.” I stand, moving toward her. “I should have told you. All of it. From the beginning.”
She searches my face, and I feel her working through the hurt, the confusion, the need to understand.
“No more secrets,” she says finally. Not demanding. Just stating what needs to be true.
“No more secrets,” I promise. “I swear it.”
She seems satisfied with that, but I can sense her anxiety, her concern for Astra. She has every right to be worried. We’re running out of time.
I’m walking beside my mate when Leon’s voice cuts through the hallway.
“Daciana.”
She stops and turns toward him. I feel her exhaustion through the bond. The meeting with Lucian was two days ago, and the weight of Celeste’s accusation is pressing down hard on her.
Leon approaches, his expression carefully neutral. But I catch the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw works like he’s chewing on words he doesn’t want to say.
“Leon,” Daciana says cautiously. “What is it?”
He glances at me, then back to her. “Can we talk? Privately?”
Possessiveness flares hot in my chest. “Anything you need to say to her, you can say in front of me.”
Leon’s eyes narrow slightly. “This is pack business.”
“She’s my mate.” The words come out harsher than I intend. “There is nothing private between you two anymore.”
Daciana’s hand touches my arm, gentle but firm. Through the bond, I feel her amusement mixed with exasperation. “Kieran.”
Leon’s face remains impassive, but I catch a flash of pain before he masks it. Good. He needs to understand how things are now.
“Whatever you need to say, say it here,” Daciana tells him, her voice steady.
Leon swallows. For a moment, he just looks at her—really looks at her. As if he’s memorizing something he knows he has already lost.
Then, he straightens and slips back into formality. “Lucian spoke with Celeste and her mother this afternoon.”
Daciana goes still beside me. “And?”
“He demanded irrefutable proof that you attacked Celeste.” Leon’s jaw tightens. “He also made it clear he knows about Celeste’s behavior toward you. Including the wolfsbane attack.”
Relief washes through Daciana, warm and quick. But Leon’s expression stays grim.
“It doesn’t look good, though,” he continues. “Celeste’s father is furious. He’s threatening to bring this before the entire Umbra Council.”
I step closer to Daciana. “Let him try. They have no proof.”
“It’s not about proof.” Leon’s voice is tight. “It’s about influence. And Celeste’s father has plenty of it. Half the Council owes him favors. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll demand a formal inquiry just to appease him.”
Through the bond, I feel Daciana’s worry spike. Not for herself, but for Astra. For what this political mess might signify.
“What does this mean for me?” Daciana asks quietly.
“It means you need to be careful.” Leon’s eyes hold hers. “Celeste’s family won’t let this go quietly. They’ll push for consequences. Even if Lucian believes you, even if everyone knows the truth, they’ll make noise. Cause problems.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?” Frustration bleeds into her voice. “Just wait for them to come after me?”
“No.” Leon’s voice softens. “Just…watch your back. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t give them any ammunition.”
I feel Daciana’s anger building, hot and sharp beneath her skin.
Leon takes a step closer, and I tense. But he’s looking only at Daciana, his expression raw. “I know this isn’t fair. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. But politics in this kingdom are messy. Dangerous.”
“I can handle myself,” Daciana says, lifting her chin.
“I know you can.” I detect a faint break in Leon’s voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”
Through the bond, I feel Daciana’s conflicted emotions: gratitude, sadness, guilt.
“I’ll be careful,” she says quietly.
Leon nods. His eyes linger on her for a moment—a bit too long, a bit too intensely. Then, he looks at me.
“Protect her.” It’s not a request. It’s a command.
“I don’t need you to tell me to protect my mate,” I say, my voice low and severe.
“Maybe not.” Leon’s jaw clenches. “But I’m telling you anyway. Celeste’s family is powerful. If they can’t get to Daciana through the Council, they may try other methods.”
The warning hangs in the air between us.
“Understood,” I say flatly.
Leon holds my gaze for another beat, then turns to Daciana one last time. “If you need anything—”
“I know,” she interrupts gently. “Thank you, Leon.”
He nods, and his composed expression cracks. Quickly, he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Daciana sags against me the moment he’s gone. I pull her close, feeling the weight of her worry.
“He still cares about you,” I murmur.
“I know.” Her voice is small. “I never wanted to hurt him.”
Jealousy burns through me, but beneath it, I feel her grief. She never wanted to hurt Leon; she simply didn’t love him.
“You’re mine now,” I say, tipping her chin up. “That’s all that matters.”
She searches my face, then nods. “Yours.”
My kiss is hard, possessive, and claiming. When I pull back, her lips are swollen, and her eyes are dark.
“Come on,” I say, guiding her toward her chambers. “You need rest.”
But even as we walk, I’m thinking about Leon’s warning. About Celeste’s family and their influence. About what other methods they could use.
And I’m already planning how to keep my mate safe.
The next morning, we find out the gypsy witches received my message. But they haven’t responded.
I watch Daciana’s face fall as I relay the news. I can feel her concern fester through the bond.
“Nothing at all?” she asks.
“They got it. But no reply yet.” I pull her against me, pressing a kiss to her temple. “They’ll answer. They’re just being cautious.”
She nods, but I can tell she doesn’t entirely believe it.
The apprehension doesn’t fade. Not through breakfast, not through our morning meetings. It sits heavy between us, mixing with the tension from Celeste’s accusations and the prophecy hanging over Astra’s head.
By the time we’re crossing the palace gardens this afternoon, Daciana’s anxiety has wound so tight, I can feel it thrumming through the bond like a plucked string.
“We should talk to Lucian again,” she’s saying, her voice tight. “About increasing security around Astra. If the gypsy witches don’t—”
The whistle cuts through the air. Sharp. High-pitched. Wrong.
Daciana whips around, her eyes widening. An arrow is streaking toward her chest.
“Daciana!” The shout tears from my throat.
She leaps sideways, the arrow missing her by inches. But another follows immediately. Then, another.
I’m moving before I can think, my body becoming a shield between her and the onslaught. An arrow grazes my shoulder, causing a sharp, burning pain that I ignore.
“Kieran!” Daciana’s cry is raw with fear.
Around us, chaos erupts. People scatter, screaming. Soldiers rush forward, drawing weapons—but arrows cut them down before they can target the source. Bodies hit the ground with sickening thuds.
I try to reach Daciana, but three arrows come at me simultaneously. I dodge, twisting away, my wolf surging beneath my skin.
More arrows. They’re coming from everywhere—the trees, the rooftops, I can’t tell. Whoever is shooting at us is hidden and very skilled.
And they’re not stopping.
Daciana ducks behind a stone bench, but arrows shatter against it. She rolls away, coming up in a crouch. Through the bond, I feel her fear—not for herself, but for me.
“Stay down!” I roar.
But she’s already moving, zigzagging toward better cover. An arrow catches her sleeve, tearing the fabric. Another embeds itself in the ground where her foot was a heartbeat before.
I lunge forward, desperate to reach her. Three more arrows fly straight at Daciana. My heart stops. She’s too exposed. Too far from cover.
I won’t make it.
I sprint anyway, desperation tearing through my chest, the bond screaming at me to get to her, protect her, save her.
A girl steps out from behind a column. She’s young, maybe sixteen, with dark eyes and wild black hair that whips around her face. She waves her hand almost lazily.
The arrows drop to the ground like stones.
She whispers words I can’t hear but I feel in my bones, ancient and powerful. The trees and shrubs around us rustle violently, like a sharp wind has torn through them. Leaves scatter. Branches shake.
The arrows stop. Complete silence falls over the garden except for the groans of the wounded.
Magic rolls off the girl in waves. Sharp and clean and absolutely unmistakable. My wolf recognizes it immediately.
Healers rush forward, tending to the fallen soldiers. I reach Daciana and pull her against me, my hands running over her body, checking for injuries even though I can feel through the bond that she is unharmed.
She’s shaking. “I’m okay,” she whispers. “I’m okay.”
Her eyes are fixed on the girl.
Daciana pulls away from me and walks toward her on unsteady legs. “Are you alright?” Her voice is breathless. “Who are you?”
The girl tilts her head, studying Daciana with those dark, ancient eyes. She looks young, but there’s a timeless quality to her gaze. As if she has seen centuries pass.
I move forward, recognition dawning on me. The magic signature, the timing, the way she appeared from nowhere…
“Daciana, you are looking at the leader of the gypsy witches,” I say softly. “Hera.”
Daciana’s breath catches. “You came.”
Hera’s lips curve into a small smile. “You called. I answered.” Her voice is soft but carries weight. Power. “And it seems I arrived just in time.”