Chapter 18
Lilia
The spring sunlight spilled over the forest path, a gentle breeze brushing through the treetops, carrying the faint scent of flowers.
I rode on a docile white horse, following Perock through the edges of the royal estate, heading toward the more secluded woodlands.
“This forest was my sanctuary when I was young,” Perock said, his voice cutting through the silence, laced with a nostalgia that felt unexpectedly intimate.
“Whenever my father’s expectations weighed too heavily—his endless lectures on duty and strength—I’d escape here.
I’d let my wolf run for hours, free from the pressure of being his heir. ”
I couldn’t help but glance at his profile, the sunlight outlining his resolute features. It was difficult to imagine the commanding king, so assured in his authority, as a child seeking refuge in these woods, running from the shadow of a crown not yet his.
“Was your father very strict with you?” I asked casually, then quickly realized my tone was too personal and added, “I mean, his methods were well-known even in Fellinger, renowned for their… rigor.
Perock gave a faint smile, as if seeing through my pretense. “Yes, very strict. In his eyes, I was never good enough, never strong enough, never ruthless enough. And it was that very pressure that shaped the arrogant, self-absorbed person I was five years ago.”
His candor caught me off guard. Five years ago, Perock would never have so openly admitted his flaws.
We rode into an open meadow, and Perock signaled to stop. The view here was breathtaking, with rolling mountains in the distance and a field of blooming wildflowers nearby.
“This place is beautiful,” I said sincerely, dismounting from my horse.
“Yes, it is. Spring is the most beautiful season here,” Perock replied, also dismounting and casually tying the reins. “Everything comes back to life, starting anew.”
There was a hint of deeper meaning in his words, but I pretended to be absorbed in the scenery, choosing not to respond.
“Lilia,” Perock called my name softly, “I know you don’t want to talk about the past, but please allow me to say what needs to be said.”
I turned to face him, forcing myself to stay composed. “If it’s about the terms of the alliance, I’d happy to listen.”
“It’s not about the alliance,” he shook his head, a hint of pleading in his eyes. “It’s about us. About the mistakes I made five years ago.”
I took a deep breath. “Perock, I’ve already said—”
“Please, let me finish,” he interrupted, urgency in his voice, the sunlight igniting a warm flame in his amber eyes. “Five years ago, I was a fool, blinded by power and arrogance. I didn’t cherish the gift fate had given me until the moment I lost it. Only then did I realize how precious it was.”
I bit my lower lip, struggling to suppress the emotions stirring within me. His words were like a gentle rain, slowly seeping into the walls I’d built around my heart, trying to soften the parts hardened by pain.
“When I felt the bond break,” Perock continued, his voice trembling slightly, “my world felt like it collapsed. That pain… it’s indescribable. That’s when I truly understood what loss meant.”
His honesty sent ripples through my heart, but I couldn’t let myself be swayed so easily. “If you truly valued that bond, why did you hurt me like that?”
Bringing it up, the pain I’d buried deep resurfaced. I remembered the feeling of abandonment, the despair of being alone while everyone surrounded Sophia.
Perock’s expression turned pained. “I won’t make excuses for myself, Lilia. Back then, I was trapped by the shadows of my past, blinded by an obsession with Sophia. I thought I loved her, but it wasn’t love—just a habitual attachment, a prideful refusal to let go.”
He shook his head slightly, his eyes filled with regret. “True love should be about cherishing and protecting, not possessing and controlling. That’s a lesson I only learned after losing you.”
My heart began to waver.
“How have you been these past five years?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Perock gave a faint smile, though his eyes were tinged with bitterness. “Ruling a kingdom, handling affairs, facing threats. On the surface, I’m a successful king, but deep down, I’ve always felt empty.”
He looked off into the distance. “I haven’t been close to any woman, Lilia. And Viossi is merely a figurehead.”
“You know,” Perock said suddenly, a hint of nostalgia in his tone, “I’ve always remembered the honey cake you made for me. It was the first time in my life I received a gift made with such genuine care.”
My heart jolted. He still remembered that cake.
Perock’s voice was low and heavy. “From the time I can remember, my father forbade me from celebrating my birthday. In his eyes, my birth took my mother’s life, and it was nothing worth celebrating.”
A flicker of vulnerability passed through his eyes. “But you remembered my birthday. Not only did you remember, but you also made a cake for me with your own hands. In that moment, I felt a care I had never experienced before—so real, so… warm.”
I remembered that day vividly. I had learned to bake a cake in the kitchen, failing twice before finally getting it right. When I presented it to him, the surprise on his face, the rare… vulnerability, was unforgettable.
“And that time in the garden when you prayed for me,” Perock continued, “praying that I would live a long life, that I could break the curse. No one had ever done that for me, Lilia. Before you, everyone only cared about whether I could produce an heir, whether I could continue the royal bloodline. Only you… only you cared about me as a person.”
So, it wasn’t my imagination that day—someone really had been there.
My heart softened uncontrollably. Those memories were so vivid—the prayer under the moonlight, the scent of honey cake, the rare tenderness in his eyes.
Back then, I genuinely cared for him, not because of politics or status, but simply because my wolf recognized its mate.
And even now, it was the same. My wolf still recognized him, from the moment I stepped out of the carriage and our eyes met.
In that moment, he was no longer a king, and I was no longer an heir. He was Perock, and I was Lilia.
“But that’s all in the past, Perock,” I said softly. “We’re not the same people we used to be.”
Seeing the flicker of disappointment on his face, a wave of bitterness surged in my heart.
I knew I was lying. Those feelings hadn’t truly faded.
Even in my most painful moments, I had never truly hated him.
I hated his actions, his choices, but never him as a person.
Over the past five years, every time Anna’s amber eyes looked at me, I would think of him, of those fleeting moments of sweetness.
“I understand,” Perock nodded, the light in his eyes dimming slightly. “But no matter how much time passes, Lilia, I will always be grateful for the sincerity you once showed me.”
The atmosphere between us suddenly softened, as if some invisible barrier had been broken.
The spring breeze brushed against my cheek, and my wolf whimpered within me, urging me to give him a chance—and to give myself one too.
A piercing howl suddenly shattered the tranquility of the forest. We both turned at the same time, instantly alert, looking toward the source of the sound.
“Rogues?” I whispered in shock. “Here? That’s impossible. This is supposed to be a safe zone…”
Perock’s expression turned grave in an instant. “There’s a trace of dark magic. Be careful!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a massive black shadow burst out of the forest, charging straight at us. It was an abnormally large werewolf, its eyes glowing an unnatural red, its fur marred with black, corrosive streaks, and a nauseating stench of decay emanating from it.
Our horses neighed in panic, desperately pulling at their reins to flee. The rogue werewolf moved with terrifying speed, closing in on us in an instant.
Almost instinctively, my wolf nature surged to the surface. Years of training allowed me to shift swiftly and flawlessly. A golden light enveloped my body as I felt my bones reshape, muscles expand, and my senses sharpen—my vision and sense of smell becoming razor-sharp.
Perock glanced at me, a flicker of admiration and surprise in his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t expected my transformation to be so seamless.
The rogue werewolf was already upon us. It was twice the size of a normal werewolf, its sharp claws glinting with menace and foul-smelling drool dripping from its jaws.
Its movements weren’t the instinctive chaos of a typical beast; there was a terrifying purpose in its actions, its red eyes locked directly on me.
Perock immediately positioned himself in front of me, already in his werewolf form. He let out a thunderous roar, warning the rogue to back off. But the monster showed no fear, instead accelerating toward us.
The battle erupted in an instant.
Perock charged forward first, his movements swift and precise, each strike carrying immense power. I flanked to the side, searching for any vulnerability in the rogue werewolf. This was our first time fighting together, yet our coordination was surprisingly seamless.
“Watch out for its claws—they’re laced with poison!” Perock’s voice rang out in my mind, sharp and vivid, as if he were standing right beside me speaking the words aloud. The clarity of it caught me off guard, sending a jolt of surprise through me.
I couldn’t help but be stunned as I realized that a mind link had somehow formed between Perock and me.
Under normal circumstances, this kind of thing was exclusive, reserved only for an Alpha and the members of his own pack.
Even more unthinkable was the fact that such a profound link shouldn’t be possible at all unless one of us had marked the other—a sacred act that cemented a bond on a physical and spiritual level.