Chapter 9
Lilia
I stood in the shadows, like a stone statue, unable to move.
Time seemed to freeze, the world narrowing to just the two people at the end of the corridor ahead—Perock and that beautiful golden-haired woman.
Tears streamed down her face, her delicate makeup slightly smudged by the tears, yet it did nothing to diminish her beauty.
Perock’s expression—it was a look I had never seen before, a mix of pain and tenderness intertwined.
“Please, Perock,” her voice trembled, a melodic plea laced with sorrow, “we need to talk.”
“Sophia, there’s nothing left to say,” Perock replied, his voice low, not cold as it often was with me, but heavy with resignation. “You made your choice.”
“I know I made a terrible mistake,” Sophia said, stepping closer, their proximity a silent wound to my soul. “I regret it every day. Do you still keep it? The crescent pendant…”
Pendant? I held my breath, straining to catch every word, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“It doesn’t matter,” Perock said softly, but his hand drifted to his chest, as if something precious lay hidden there.
“It matters to me,” Sophia insisted, her voice breaking with desperation. “It was our promise, remember? We vowed to be together forever…”
Her words faltered, tears falling like pearls scattering on the floor.
Perock’s face softened, his hand hovering as if to wipe her tears, hesitating in the air.
Sophia seized the moment, stepping forward to embrace him.
My heart shattered as he didn’t push her away.
He stood rigid, then slowly raised his arms, resting them lightly on her back.
The pain was visceral, a blade plunged into my chest, stealing my breath. I should have turned away, spared myself this torment, but my legs were rooted, betraying me as I watched the scene unfold.
A deafening crash shattered the silence, the corridor quaking as dust rained from the ceiling. The sound of crumbling stone followed, accompanied by a bone-chilling roar that echoed through the palace.
Perock shoved Sophia behind him, his body tensing as he faced the source of the noise.
Before he could react, a big black werewolf burst through the wall, emerging at the end of the corridor.
This was no ordinary werewolf—it stood nearly twice the height of a typical one, its muscles bulging, its eyes glowing an unnatural red.
Its razor-sharp claws glinted menacingly, and foul-smelling drool dripped from its snarling jaws.
A rogue werewolf—a creature corrupted by dark forces, more monster than beast.
I barely had time to react before the creature locked onto me, its roar deafening as it charged. My gown caught my feet, and I stumbled, crashing to the floor, helpless as its claws slashed toward me.
“Perock!” I cried, instinctively reaching for him, my voice raw with terror.
At the last second, a blur of motion intercepted the beast. Orin, Perock’s lieutenant, stood before me, silver dagger in hand, blocking the rogue’s attack. Its claws raked his shoulder, blood soaking his tunic, but he gritted his teeth, forcing the creature back.
“Your Highness, stay back!” Orin shouted, his voice strained with pain as he parried another strike, concern flashing in his eyes.
I scrambled to my feet, my gaze darting to Perock.
He was already transforming, his pupils shifting from deep amber to feral gold, narrowing into slits.
His nails elongated into claws, silver-gray fur sprouting across his skin, muscles rippling as he grew larger, more primal.
But my heart sank—he wasn’t rushing to me.
He stood before Sophia, shielding her, his stance protective.
Sophia clung to his arm, her face pale. “Perock, it’s too dangerous! We need to leave!”
“Your Highness, please help!” Orin called in Perock’s direction., struggling against the rogue, another gash opening on his arm.
Perock’s eyes flickered between us, hesitation warring in his gaze. The rogue seized the moment, knocking Orin to the ground and lunging at me again. I dodged, my wolf snarling within, trapped by the spell that bound my true form, her fury useless against the barrier.
I tried to run, but the air shifted, and I was suddenly airborne, pain tearing through me as I plummeted. Sophia’s protected figure flashed in my vision, but Perock’s face was a blur—then strong arms caught me, pulling me close with fierce gentleness, speeding us away from the rogue’s reach.
Gasping, I looked up. Orin.
He was half-shifted, sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight, his breathing ragged from his wounds.
Despite his pain, his hold was careful, claws retracted to avoid hurting me.
I clung to his bloodied tunic, feeling the heat of his body and the frantic beat of his heart.
He pressed me against the wall, shielding me, his injured frame still defiant against the looming threat.
Orin let out a guttural wolf howl toward Perock, a plea for aid.
Perock completed his transformation, his silver-gray fur gleaming, his form even larger than the rogue’s.
The creature hesitated, sensing a greater threat, but roared and charged me again.
Perock met it head-on, the two beasts colliding in a whirlwind of claws and fangs, their roars shaking the corridor.
Sophia remained, frozen, watching in horror. Perock’s focus split—he fought the rogue but kept glancing at Sophia, ensuring her safety. The distraction cost him; the rogue’s claws slashed his chest, blood spraying across the stone floor.
“Perock!” Sophia screamed, her voice thick with fear.
Perock launched himself forward with a powerful bound, slamming the rogue werewolf into the wall and letting out a fierce roar at Sophia, as if signaling her to run.
Sophia appeared to grasp his intent and turned, dashing toward the east wing corridor.
But at that very moment, the rogue werewolf broke free and, shockingly, abandoned its attack on me to pursue Sophia instead.
This scene shocked everyone—wasn’t it after me?
Perock let out a thunderous growl and charged after the rogue werewolf, tackling it from behind.
The two enormous wolves clashed again, but this time Perock’s assault was even more savage, the golden glow in his eyes almost searing.
With a single swipe of his claw, he ripped open the rogue werewolf’s throat, blood gushing forth.
The creature emitted a final, anguished howl before collapsing limply to the ground.
The fight was over. Perock reverted to his human form, his chest wound stark against his torn shirt, blood streaming down his torso. Ignoring his injury, he ran to Sophia.
“Sophia!” His voice was raw with worry. She stood at the corridor’s turn, trembling, and threw herself into his arms.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone urgent.
“I… I’m fine,” she sobbed, clinging to him. “But you’re hurt!”
“It’s alright,” Perock comforted her softly, “I’ll heal soon.”
He raised his hand, gently wiping the tears from her face with a tenderness and intimacy that made it seem as though they were the only two people in the world.
Suddenly, Sophia, seemingly overwhelmed by the intense shock she had just endured, her entire body was on the verge of collapsing. Her legs gave way, and Perock immediately scooped her up, his movements practiced and gentle, holding her close to his chest.
“You’re shaken, Sophie. You need rest,” he said, his eyes soft with concern. “I’ll take you to a safe place.”
Perock carried Sophia away, not even glancing back at me, as if he had completely forgotten I was there. I stood rooted to the spot, stunned.
Even in the midst of danger, even while injured himself, Perock’s primary concern was still Sophia.
Only Sophia.
“Your Highness, are you okay?” Orin’s voice cut through my daze, his shoulder and arm bleeding profusely, but his eyes held only worry for me.
“I… I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice quaking. “But you…”
“It’s nothing,” Orin said, managing a pained smile, his face pale. “As long as you’re safe.”
Gratitude and guilt flooded me. “Thank you for saving me,” I said, my voice breaking. “If it wasn’t you…”
“It’s my duty, Your Highness,” he replied, his tone formal but his gaze warm with sincerity. “Protecting you is my honor.”
His kindness stood in stark contrast to Perock’s indifference. Orin, wounded and bleeding, stayed by my side, while Perock had chosen Sophia without hesitation.
“Please let me see your wound,” I said, reaching out to check his shoulder.
“No need, Your Highness,” Orin said, stepping back with a hint of embarrassment. Then, he added in a soft, admiring tone, “His Highness is truly valiant.” His gaze drifted toward the direction Perock had gone. “For Miss Sophia, he’s always exceptionally brave and fearless.”
His words pierced my heart like a needle.
“They were… engaged, weren’t they?” I couldn’t help but ask, stepping forward and taking off my shawl to bandage Orin’s wound.
Orin fell silent for a moment, as if weighing what to say. Then, he answered in a low voice, “Yes, Your Highness. They grew up together. Everyone said they were destined to be together.”
“But she left him,” I said, Lord Thornfield’s words echoing in my mind.
Orin nodded, letting out a soft sigh. “But some affections, even betrayal can’t erase. His Highness, for her sake, went nearly five days without eating or drinking. We all thought he would die.”
My hand paused for a moment, a bitter ache swelling in my chest.
The depth of such emotion was suffocating—or rather, it felt suffocating to me in this moment.
“Let me escort you back,” Orin offered. “It’s not safe here.”
Back in my chambers, Orin bowed at the door. “I’ll assign guards to keep watch outside the door. If you need any assistance, just call for them.”
“Thank you, Orin,” I looked at him sincerely. “Don’t forget to tend to your wounds.”
He smiled faintly. “For you, Your Highness, these are nothing.”