Chapter 21 #3
The rage that explodes through me is so intense that every piece of glass remaining in the hallway completely disintegrates. The witch in my grasp makes a choked sound as my hand tightens involuntarily.
My mate is standing in the throne room right now, before my father, being accused of crimes she didn’t commit, by the woman who orchestrated everything.
And I’m here. Miles away. Covered in the blood of irrelevant servants while the real enemy presents her case to the crown.
“When?” The word comes out in a growl that doesn’t sound remotely human.
“The trial started an hour ago,” he gasps. “But they’ll draw it out. Make a spectacle of it. Lady Zari wants everyone to see her righteousness, her loyalty to the crown. She plans to torture her first.”
Seth steps closer, his face grim. “Lucian, if your father believes Zari’s lies—”
“He will.” The words taste like poison. My father trusts the Tashina family completely. Zari is his trusted advisor’s daughter, the woman he has been planning to see me marry for years. And Astra...To him, Astra is just a runaway shifter who defied his royal decree.
If Zari presents compelling evidence, if she has “witnesses” backing her story, he won’t even question it.
“We need to go,” Seth says quietly. “Now.”
I release the witch, letting him drop to the marble floor in a heap. “Bring him.”
“Lucian—”
“Bring him,” I repeat, already moving toward the estate’s grand entrance. “He’s going to confess everything before the court. He’s going to tell them exactly what he just told me.”
“The family will deny everything,” Seth warns, pulling the witch to his feet as he starts to follow me. “They’ll claim he’s lying to save his own skin.”
“Then it’s fortunate that I don’t need their confessions to destroy them.”
We reach the entrance hall, where bodies lie crumpled on blood-soaked rugs. I step over them without breaking my stride, my focus entirely on getting to the palace.
My mate is standing trial for crimes she didn’t commit. Being accused of treachery by a woman who thinks she has won. Who thinks she has outmaneuvered me, manipulated the crown itself to eliminate her competition.
A cold sense of vengeance comes over me as Seth drags the trembling witch along behind us.
Zari has no idea what’s coming for her, but she’s about to find out.
The palace servants scatter like leaves before a storm as I stride through the corridors.
Blood still coats my hands, my arms, my shirt—dried now to a dark rust color that probably makes my eyes look even more inhuman.
Some of the younger maids press themselves against the walls, heads bowed, refusing to meet my gaze.
Their fear is well-founded.
“Lucian,” Seth says, struggling to keep pace beside me. “You should change. Your royal attire would be more powerful. More intimidating.”
I don’t slow my stride. “I’m not entering that throne room as Crown Prince Lucian.”
“Then what—”
“The Mad Wolf.” The title rolls off my tongue like a promise of violence. “That’s what they call me on the battlefield. The name I earned with strategy and blood and the screams of my enemies.”
Seth goes quiet beside me. He knows that title. Everyone in the kingdom knows it: the terrifying strategist who can outmaneuver armies. The warrior who leaves combat zones painted red with enemy blood. The prince who makes grown men weep with terror.
“I want the Tashina family to tremble in fear,” I continue, my voice a low growl. “I want them to understand exactly what they’ve unleashed.”
Then, the scent hits me.
Blood. Fresh blood.
My wolf howls with a fury so intense that the walls around us vibrate. The massive wooden doors to the throne room are just ahead, carved with royal wolves, their silver eyes gleaming in the torchlight.
Behind those doors, my mate is bleeding.
I don’t knock. I don’t announce myself. I slam both hands against the doors, and they crash open with a deafening sound.
“STEP AWAY FROM MY MATE!”
The roar tears from my throat with such primal wrath that several nobles stumble backward. My eyes sweep the massive room, taking in the scene before me, and pure rage explodes through my chest.
Astra is kneeling on the marble floor in the center of the vast throne room. Blood streaks down her back, soaking through the torn remnants of her dress. Her shoulders shake with each labored breath, but her spine stays straight—defiant even in agony.
A guard is poised behind her, his arm raised high. One of Zari’s men, judging by the house colors on his uniform. He freezes mid-strike when he sees me, the whip trembling in his grasp.
And there she is. Lady Zari. My supposed betrothed. When she sees me, her expression quickly transforms from shock into anger and then calculation.
“Lucian.” Astra’s voice is the softest whisper, pain threading through the single word, but it cuts through my fury as if it’s butter. When our eyes meet, I see everything—the confusion, the terror, but also the relief. She knew I would come for her.
“Son,” comes my father’s dry voice from the black throne. “You certainly took your time.”
I watch Astra stiffen at the word “son,” her eyes widening as understanding crashes over her. Through our bond, I feel the sharp stab of betrayal, confusion, hurt. She has just found out who I really am. What I’ve been hiding from her all this time.