Chapter 4
Lilia
For the first time in my life, I slept so deeply, with no dreams, feeling a brief moment of peace.
But as consciousness crept back, I reached out, expecting to find the warmth of Prince Perock beside me. My fingers brushed only cold silk sheets, smooth and empty.
He wasn’t here.
My eyes snapped open, scanning the vast, opulent master bedroom.
I was alone. The memory of last night—our intense, too deep connection-still pulsed through every fiber of my being, vivid and undeniable.
His touch, urgent and unrelenting, searing into me, the way our bodies had collided with a hunger that bordered on desperation.
My breath hitched as I felt the echo of that intensity ripple through every cell, a delicious ache throbbing deep within me.
Yet the stark reality of this empty room felt like a betrayal, chilling my bones.
“Perock?” I called softly, my voice echoing in the cavernous space, fragile and lonely. No answer came.
I sat up slowly, my body tender from the night before, a faint ache lingering in my muscles. I slowly walked up to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My gaze fell to the bite mark on my chest, a faint bruise that sent a shiver of wonder through me.
I was his mate.
My wolf, though bound and caged, had stirred last night, resonating with his in a way that felt sacred, unbreakable. That bond was real—it had to be. I could still feel him, a faint pull in my chest, telling me he was somewhere in the castle.
Perhaps he was simply tending to royal duties.
I told myself, rising to slip into the silk robe left at the bedside.
Its smooth, luxurious fabric felt foreign against my skin, so unlike the rough linen I’d worn as a slave in the Thornfield household just a week ago.
Back then, I was nothing—a lowly servant, invisible and expendable.
Now, I was a prince’s wife, his mate, living in a palace.
The thought wrapped me in a fragile happiness, so dreamlike I feared it might burst like a soap bubble.
I needed to see him.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” came a gentle voice. An older maid entered, carrying a breakfast tray. She bowed respectfully, setting the tray on the table beside the bed. “I’ve brought you breakfast and hot tea.”
“Thank you,” I said, offering a small smile. Being addressed with such deference still felt unreal, like stepping into someone else’s life. As I picked up the delicate teacup, I couldn’t hold back my question. “Do you know where Prince Perock is?”
The maid’s expression flickered with surprise, her eyes catching a strange glint, as if my directness caught her off guard. She quickly composed herself. “His Highness left early this morning. He has many matters to attend to.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, nodding, though a pang of disappointment settled in my chest. I understood the weight of his responsibilities as the heir, but the emptiness lingered. “Did he say when he’ll return?”
The maid’s lips twitched, and an unreadable emotion passed through her eyes. “Your Highness, His Highness doesn’t typically share his schedule.” She paused, then added, “But you needn’t worry about such things. On the night of the full moon, His Highness will come to you.”
The teacup slipped from my hands, shattering on the floor with a sharp crack. The maid gasped, dropping to her knees to gather the pieces, but I barely noticed. My head spun, the words echoing in my mind.
“The full moon?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Once a month?”
The maid’s hands stilled, and she sighed softly, her gaze avoiding mine. “Yes, my lady. Your duty is to rest and prepare to bear a strong heir for the kingdom.”
“You’ll get used to it,” she added gently.
Get used to it.
The phrase cut through me like a dull blade, slicing away the fragile hope I’d clung to.
The happiness I’d felt moments ago shattered, as delicate and fleeting as that soap bubble.
I stared out the window, where just last night the view had promised freedom and a new beginning. Now, it was just another gilded cage.
“No,” I said, shaking my head firmly, my voice quivering with emotion. “We share a bond. I felt it. This can’t just be… a routine.”
The maid’s expression softened, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, but her voice remained steady. “I understand your feelings, Your Highness. But you must understand, as the heir, Prince Perock carries the weight of the entire kingdom.”
Her words felt like a dismissal, a polite way to silence my heart’s protest. Last night’s connection—the way our souls seemed to intertwine, the way my wolf had sung in harmony with his— how could it possibly be reduced to just a routine?
My wolf stirred restlessly within me, yearning for her mate, clawing at the barriers that held her back. I had to see him. I had to know if what we shared was real, or if I’d imagined it all in my desperation for something true.
“I need to see him. Now,” I said firmly, standing and moving toward the door, heedless of my position or the consequences.
“Your Highness, please,” the maid said, stepping in front of me, her voice tinged with panic. “You must stay calm. The prince is handling important matters and cannot be disturbed.”
Her anxious expression made me pause, a flicker of doubt creeping in.
I knew my actions could bring trouble—not just for me, but for the delicate balance of this new life.
But the memory of last night was too vivid, too powerful.
The way Perock’s touch had ignited something deep within me, the way our wolves had called to each other—it was more than a fleeting moment.
It was a promise, a lifeline. I couldn’t let it slip away.
In the Thornfield household, I’d been nothing but a target for cruelty.
Words like “worthless,” “burden,” and “unwanted” had carved wounds in my heart that never fully healed.
Even as I grew, I remained a tool, a thing to be used and discarded.
I’d thought my life would forever be defined by that darkness—until Perock.
Despite the rumors painting him as a monster who devoured his wives, he felt like the missing piece of my broken soul, my fated mate.
The concept had always seemed like a fairy tale, something unattainable for someone like me.
But at least last night, that deep connection between us, that merging of our beings, had made me believe—maybe the rumors were wrong.
Maybe he would be my salvation, my only hope. I couldn’t let go of that, no matter the risk, no matter the pain that might lie ahead.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” I said, brushing past the maid and stepping into the corridor.
My bare feet slapped against the cold marble floor as I ran, guided only by the faint pull in my chest, the bond that tethered me to Perock.
My heart raced, my breath came in shallow bursts, but I didn’t stop.
I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to find him, to confirm that last night wasn’t a cruel illusion.
Rounding a corner, I nearly collided with a group of people. Perock stood at the center, surrounded by older werewolves—likely the kingdom’s elders—on their way to some important meeting.
They froze, their eyes locking onto me, a mixture of surprise and disapproval in their gazes. But I saw only Perock, searching his face for the warmth, the passion, the connection we’d shared last night.
Yet, what met me was a pair of cold, unfamiliar eyes, staring back with an icy detachment that cut straight through me.
His gaze held no recognition, no trace of the intimacy we’d shared. It was as if I were a stranger who’d stumbled into his path.
My heart plummeted, a sickening drop into an abyss of doubt.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice calm but devoid of warmth, as if addressing an insignificant passerby.
Two elders exchanged uneasy glances, and the gray-haired one to his left coughed softly, perhaps a subtle nudge for decorum. Perock didn’t react.
My throat tightened, my wolf whimpering in pain, desperate for her mate’s acknowledgment. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, fighting to keep my voice steady.
“I… I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” I managed, the words feeling feeble against the weight of his indifference.
His brow furrowed briefly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before it hardened again. “I’m fine. If there’s nothing else, please return to your quarters. This isn’t the place for you.”
His tone was flat, impersonal, cutting deeper than any insult.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
The pain in my chest sharpened, the sorceress’s curse pulsing faintly, but it was nothing compared to the ache of his rejection.
I couldn’t break down here, not in front of these strangers.
Not as Viossi.
“O-of course. I’m sorry for interrupting,” I said, forcing a smile, my voice steady despite the storm inside. I turned and walked away, keeping my steps measured, refusing to let them see me crumble.
But the moment I rounded the corner, out of their sight, my composure shattered. My legs buckled, and I leaned against the wall, gasping for air as darkness crept into my vision.
My wolf let out a piercing wail, a sound that echoed in the depths of my soul, raw with despair and betrayal.
She curled up in my mind, trembling—not from fear, but from the agony of being spurned by her mate.
Her confusion mirrored mine: Why does he look at us like we’re nothing? Why is there no warmth, no recognition?
Her whimpers grew faint, as if she were fading, her spirit breaking under the weight of rejection.
To be dismissed by one’s fated mate was a wound deeper than death.
Her pain flooded me, merging with my own, making it hard to breathe.
I bit my lip, tasting blood, fighting to hold back the tears.
Last night’s connection—the way our souls had seemed to meld—had it all been a lie?