Chapter 31 #2
“She’s never shown me an ounce of care or respect. Why do I owe the same to her?”
Drusilla stormed closer, ready for a fight, but Lochlan didn’t flinch. He only tilted his head, measured, controlled. “Careful, Drusilla. We aren’t children anymore. You wouldn’t want your fans knowing how much of a bitch you actually are.”
Her nostrils flared. “No one would believe a bastard.”
Thane groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. His gaze flicked around the garden, as if wary of attracting curious eyes and ears. “For fuck’s sake, stop it.”
Lochlan barely heard him.
He had kept up with Drusilla over the years—not out of nostalgia, but morbid curiosity. The girl who had tormented him had grown into a woman the public adored. She played the role well, standing at the queen’s side, exuding grace and charm: a picture-perfect princess, beloved by the people.
But Lochlan suspected there was more beneath the polished surface, cracks she fought to keep hidden.
And now, as she stood before him, shaking with anger, her mask slipping, he felt it.
The shadows thickened at the edges of his vision, responding to something deeper than thought.
And this time, he didn’t recoil. He let them reach for her.
The bright, manicured gardens seemed to grow darker, dimmer.
Then it hit him.
The sting of her loss: a sharp, aching grief that hollowed her chest. The anger curling inside her, desperate for an outlet. The betrayal, the way their mother’s lies had unraveled, exposing secrets she’d never wanted to know.
It crashed into him like a wave—her pain bleeding into him and summoning his own.
He had buried his agony. Drusilla? She’d turned it into a weapon.
That wasn’t an excuse.
She gasped, stumbling back. “What are you trying to do to me, you evil witch?”
“Evil?” Lochlan let out a cold laugh. “Drusilla, you set fire to an entire building. You bullied and tormented me for years. Why? Why did you hate me so much?”
“Because you’re here!” she snapped. Her voice wavered though her rage did not.
“Because the moment people found out about you, it ruined everything.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides, trembling.
“You’re the reason we’re about to lose everything, that the kingdom is on the brink of collapse. You’re the reason my father is dead!”
Lochlan’s breath caught.
“Oh, Drusilla,” Thane murmured, his voice softer now, almost pitying. “Dad died because he was sick. You know his heart was weak. He’d had problems since he was a child.”
“No, no,” she whispered. “No! It was because of him!” Her wild gaze snapped back to Lochlan. “And when he died, I wanted you to lose something you loved as much as I loved him.” Her breath shuddered. “Your precious greenhouse, full of witches.”
Lochlan couldn’t speak. He understood now. Drusilla was lost in her anger, trapped in it, controlled by it.
There would never be reconciliation with her.
“You could have killed someone,” Thane said, his tone no longer soft. “You could have set the whole palace on fire.”
Drusilla turned on him, her expression twisting. “Oh, now you care?” she snapped. “You always take his side! But you couldn’t, not if you’d cared about Dad the way I did.”
Thane’s jaw tightened. “You think I didn’t care?
” His voice was ice. “I’m the one trying to hold this kingdom together.
I’m the one making sure it doesn’t collapse under the weight of our family’s mistakes.
” His gaze flicked between them, heavy with meaning.
“And we need Lochlan—all of us—to show what a true family looks like.”
Drusilla let out a bitter laugh. “We were never a family.”
She turned and stalked off, the click of her heels echoing as she fled down the stone path.
Lochlan exhaled, tension coiled in his shoulders as he watched her disappear into the palace.
For a moment, Thane said nothing, his gaze distant.
“You asked me to come, told me things would be different,” Lochlan pushed, his voice rising. “But clearly they aren’t.”
“They can be. Will be. I just…” Thane rubbed the back of his neck, his composure slipping. “I need time.”
“Time for what?” Lochlan asked, crossing his arms.
Thane sighed and glanced at him, his voice steady but low. “The Ceremonial Commission of the Silver Guard is in two days.”
“Goddess, that’s a mouthful,” Lochlan muttered dryly.
Thane gave him a pointed look but didn’t take the bait.
“It’s a big deal. I need you there, by my side.
The Silver Guard is the kingdom’s elite battalion, sworn to protect its most sacred sites and the royal family.
Every five years, we commission a new group of soldiers in a public ceremony.
It’s tradition—an important tradition. This year, we need to show the family is strong.
United. Like we want the kingdom to be in their support of us. ”
Lochlan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “And you want me to do what, exactly?”
“Just be there,” Thane said, his tone pleading. “Stand with me. Smile. Wave. It’ll be fine.”
Lochlan shook his head, his laughter bitter. “You’re asking me to pretend the last eight years didn’t happen? That I wasn’t driven away in the first place?”
Thane stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder. Lochlan met his earnest gaze, seeing something there he hadn’t expected—Thane didn’t beg. But this was as close as Lochlan had seen him come.
“Please,” Thane said quietly. “Don’t do it for them.
I need you there… for me. Because I’m trying to hold this together, and I’m running out of people I can trust. Out of moves.
If you’re not by my side, The Dover Coalition—and the public—will take it as another sign of our weakness.
They’ll move fast, using any perceived crack in our leadership, our unity, our family, as an excuse to remove any power we have. ”
The words hit Lochlan like a punch to the gut. A breath whooshed out of him as his mind churned. “I’ll think about it,” he muttered, his voice rough.
“Don’t think too hard.” Thane gave him a crooked smile before gesturing for Lochlan to follow. They walked in silence through the palace corridors, Thane was quiet, which was good, as Lochlan’s thoughts swirled in a tangled mess.
Drusilla’s fury still rang in his ears. He had expected her resentment, but not the depth of the emotions behind it, the way her grief bled into rage, rage to hate, how she’d blamed him for everything.
And then there was Thane—standing between them, trying to bring together what had already and irreparably fallen apart.
When they reached the grand suite, Thane pushed open the doors, gesturing for him to step inside. “Try to get some rest,” he said, gently.
Lochlan didn’t answer. He stepped forward and heard the door click shut behind him. The suite was a masterpiece of opulence: polished wood, shimmering fabrics, and gold accents gleamed in the soft candlelight. But it felt stifling, a gilded cage rather than a retreat.
His gaze landed on the bed.
A sleek cat was curled up in the center of the plush covers, its fur a glossy obsidian.
At the sound of his steps, the creature stretched languidly, its collar glinting with a small scroll.
It wasn’t like the other delivery cats from Stella Rune—this one was friendlier, purring loudly as it rubbed its head against his hand.
“Are you a better class of delivery beast?” he asked, his tone wry.
The cat chirped in agreement, its tail curling in satisfaction.
“Well, aren’t you full of yourself,” he murmured, gently untying the scroll from its collar.
The note was from Nia. Lochlan sat on the edge of the bed, letting her words sink in.
I know we can text, but I thought you might need a little magic from home.
—N
Lochlan’s chest tightened as he read it again and again.
Warmth spread through him, cutting through the cold detachment of the palace. The cat curled against his side, its presence a small, comforting piece of Stella Rune—of home—in a place that felt as far from that as possible.