Chapter 22 Caelan
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Caelan
Two days of waiting, and Riley was done.
Honestly, I was too. I’d been turning the situation over in my mind constantly, examining it from every angle, replaying every moment, searching for an explanation that made sense.
I couldn’t find one.
As much as I tried to spin it, there was no way my bite did this. The claiming didn’t create wolves. It never had. In all of Lytopia’s history, in all the archives I’d read and legends I’d heard, there had never been a single case of a human transforming into a wolf through a mate bond.
Which meant the answer lay somewhere else. In Riley’s past, in her parents, in the mysterious godmother who raised her.
We were sitting in her apartment when she finally snapped.
“I can’t just sit here anymore,” she said, pacing the length of her living room. “Thessa’s been gone for two days with no word. I need to DO something.”
“I know.” I watched her, tracking her movements. She was still keeping distance between us, refusing my touch, my comfort. It was torture. “What do you remember? About your childhood, your godmother, anything that might give us a lead.”
Riley stopped pacing, considering.
“Not much. I was young when my parents died. My godmother, Maris, she raised me after that. She never talked about where my parents came from. Just said they were private people who loved me very much.”
“Nothing else?”
“She used to take me somewhere. A lot.” Riley’s brow furrowed, memories surfacing. “A bookstore. In a little town. That’s where I fell in love with reading, actually. She’d leave me there for hours while she... I don’t know. Talked to the owners, I think. They were friends.”
I straightened. “Where is it?”
“Down the mountain. A small town called Ryeville. It’s about two hours from here.”
“The bookstore owners. Are they still there?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been back in years.” She looked at me, a spark of interest finally lighting her eyes after days of shutting me out. “You think they might know?”
“Your godmother took you there frequently. She talked to the owners. If she was hiding your heritage, keeping secrets about where you came from, they might have been part of it.”
Riley was quiet for a moment, then nodded with the determined expression I was learning to recognize. The one that meant she’d made up her mind and nothing would change it.
“Let’s go.”
I was already on my feet. “Let’s go get some answers.”
***
Riley’s car was a death trap.
I eyed the vehicle with deep suspicion as she unlocked it. A rusted sedan that looked to be held together by optimism and prayers. The paint was peeling, the bumper was dented, and there was duct tape, actual duct tape, holding part of the side mirror in place.
The engine made concerning sounds when she started it: grinding, then coughing, then a wheeze that sounded distinctly fatal.
The passenger seat wobbled when I sat down. I tested the seatbelt. It stuck halfway.
“Is this... safe?” I asked.
“She’s reliable.” Riley patted the dashboard affectionately. “Mostly.”
“Mostly.”
“She’s gotten me everywhere I needed to go for the past eight years.”
“That doesn’t answer my question about safety.”
“She has character.”
“She has rust.”
“That’s part of the character.” Riley shot me a look, and there it was. The first hint of humor I’d seen from her since she shifted. “Scared, Alpha Prince?”
“Concerned,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
“Sure there is.” She put the car in reverse. The transmission made a sound that shouldn’t exist in nature. “Buckle up, Your Highness.”
“My seatbelt is jammed.”
“Just hold onto the dashboard. You’ll be fine.”
I was absolutely not going to be fine. I was going to die in this vehicle.
Thirty-two years of life, trained to be a warrior since I could walk, survived battles that would make most wolves faint, and this is how it would end.
In a rusted sedan on a mountain road with a woman who refused to let me comfort her.
We pulled out of the parking spot and started the long drive down the mountain. The roads were winding, the scenery beautiful, and I spent most of the trip silently praying to the goddess that this pile of rust wouldn’t break down in the middle of nowhere.
Every pothole made the car shudder. Every curve made the steering wheel shake. At one point, the radio turned on by itself, blasting music for three seconds before cutting out entirely.
“She does that sometimes,” Riley said.
“Of course she does.”
Somehow, miraculously, we made it in one piece. Small mercies.
Ryeville was small, charming in a quaint human way. A main street with local shops, a diner, a few scattered houses. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone and strangers stuck out.
Riley drove slowly, squinting through the windshield.
“It’s been a while,” she murmured. “Things look different.”
“Do you remember where the bookstore is?”
“I think so. Down this street, maybe? Past the...” She pointed. “Yes. There.”
I saw it. An old building with a weathered sign: WOODS & PAGES.
Riley parked outside. We sat in silence, both watching the storefront.
“Ready?” I asked.
“No.” She took a breath. “But let’s go anyway.”
We got out of the car and walked toward the entrance. The bell above the door chimed as we stepped inside.
The interior was cozy. Warm lighting, overstuffed shelves, the smell of old paper and coffee. A bookworm’s paradise. My mate would love it here. Probably did love it, as a child. Some things made perfect sense.
I was cataloging the space, noting the exits, the layout...
And then I smelled it.
I went rigid, hackles rising, every muscle in my body tensing. My wolf surged forward, alert and ready.
Another wolf. There was another wolf here.
I moved instinctively, positioning myself between Riley and the rest of the store, shielding her with my body as we approached the counter.
“Caelan?” Riley whispered. “What’s wrong?”
Before I could answer, a woman appeared behind the counter. Dark red hair, glasses, a warm smile.
“Welcome to Woods & Pages! Can I help you find...”
Footsteps on the stairs. A man descending, carrying two cups of coffee. He froze when he saw me. I froze when I saw him. Of all the bookstores in all the human towns in all the realms, and I walk into the one run by the King of Ravenor.
“Malachar Ashborne?” I said.
“Caelan Goldridge?” The man’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “What in the goddess’s name are you doing here?”
The tension in the room shifted from defensive to confused to cautiously friendly. Malachar set the coffee cups down on the counter, still staring at me as if seeing a ghost. The red-haired woman looked between us, clearly sensing she was missing context.
“You two know each other?” she asked.
“We do,” I confirmed, relaxing my stance slightly. Not completely, old habits died hard, but enough to signal I wasn’t here for a fight. “Malachar Ashborne. King of Ravenor.”
“King of...” Riley’s head whipped toward me. “Do you know him?”
The frown hadn’t left her face since this whole mess started. I hated it. Hated the distance, hated the suspicion, hated everything about this situation.
“Yes,” I said. “I know him. We’re not friends, exactly, but... acquaintances. Our kingdoms have dealt with each other in the past.”
“Diplomatically,” Malachar added. “Nothing hostile. We’re bound by the peace treaty the seven kingdoms signed hundreds of years ago. And before that, Ravenor and Duskmere had always been on decent terms.”
The two of us approached each other, clasping forearms in the traditional wolf greeting. It was strange, meeting a fellow king in a tiny human bookstore, of all places. The goddess had a sense of humor.
“I’d heard you found your mate in the human realm,” I said. “I didn’t realize this was where you’d settled.”
“Wen’s roots are here.” Malachar glanced at the red-haired woman with obvious affection. “We split our time between worlds, but this is home base.”
That tracked. Many wolves with human mates in the past few years had found similar arrangements, balancing their duties in Lytopia with their life in the human world.
Riley cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m still catching up. You’re a king? From this…Lytopia?”
“Guilty as charged.” Malachar offered her a slight bow. “Malachar Ashborne, at your service. And you are?”
I hesitated, caught between instinct and uncertainty. Part of me wanted to introduce her as my mate, to claim her publicly, make it clear to everyone that she was mine. But things between us were still fragile. I didn’t know if she’d welcome it or resent it.
Probably resent it, given how the last two days had gone.
Before I could decide, Riley spoke.
“I’m Riley Hawkins.” She stepped forward, offering her hand the way humans did. “Nice to meet you. I’m looking for Mary and Louis Woods, a cute elderly couple that used to run this place. Are they available?”
The red-haired woman’s warmth faded to sadness. Her eyes went soft with grief.
“You knew them?” she asked quietly. “They were my grandparents. I’m Wen. They... they passed away several years ago.”
The bond flooded with Riley’s sorrow. Sudden and acute, a blow to the chest.
“Oh.” Riley’s voice was small. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? It’s not as if we advertised.” Wen’s smile was gentle despite the sadness. “How did you know them?”
“I used to come here as a child. With my godmother, Maris Hawkins. We’d visit regularly. Mary and Louis, they were always so kind to me. Let me read anything I wanted.” Riley’s voice wavered slightly. “I haven’t been back in years. I should have... I should have visited sooner.”
“Maris Hawkins.” Wen’s forehead creased. “That name sounds familiar. I think my grandmother mentioned her in some of her letters.” She paused, studying Riley more carefully. “Why are you here now? After all this time?”
Riley glanced at me. I gave her a slight nod. Your call.