Chapter 41 #2
He hadn’t held back. Not once. He’d spent himself inside her again and again. How foolish he was. Not once had he thought beyond the moment.
All the while, she’d been alone. Gods.
“Please,” JingYi said softly. “There’s no need for this.”
Her voice locked him in place. His pulse climbed, knuckles trembling as he reached. Then he saw her face and let his hand drop.
She didn’t want him near her.
“Lord Wulfbane.”
A second voice broke the silence—clear, commanding, unmistakably royal.
He turned. Princess Reiyana stood beside JingYi now, one hand resting on the gentle swell of her belly, blue eyes cool and guarded.
She was polite, yes, but far from warm. Alexander had seen that look before.
It belonged to women who’d fought to carve out their own safety and would not watch it be stripped away.
“We didn’t expect your arrival,” Reiyana said. “You are welcomed here. However”—she nodded at JingYi and her voice hardened—“this woman has been retained as a healer in my household. She is under my protection. I kindly ask you to step back.”
Deep down, he knew they were protecting his wife. To realize that in one week he had become the danger she needed shielding from—it rattled him.
“She is not a servant for Tazahrina Reiyana to retain.” The Alpha in him bled into every syllable, turning each word into a rumble. “She is Princess JingYi of X?en-Sarai, and my wife, the Lady Wulfbane of Blackwood-Veyrde.”
The group stilled at the declaration. The soldier, however, shifted fractionally, seemingly even more protective. Alexander didn’t care. His body was strung tight. The half-formed bond burned in his chest. He hadn’t crossed Issoirea for a week only to lose her again.
Kaelen took his place beside Reiyana, all loose limbs and lazy grace, but Alexander knew that glint in his cousin’s golden eyes. Any threat would be handled swiftly, efficiently.
“Well,” Kaelen drawled, “we can hardly fault her, can we? Reiya fled across the ocean hiding she was a princess. Alarik and I haven’t travelled with our real names in years. Seems to me, Princess JingYi is simply upholding a long-standing Nine Kingdoms tradition.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Alexander saw Reiyana’s mouth twitch. Kaelen’s grin widened. “You’ve got to admit, cousin. It takes skill to outmaneuver a Wulfbane Alpha.”
He turned to JingYi and offered a theatrical bow, one hand over his heart.
“Well played, Your Highness. On behalf of the Asadian delegation, I offer our sincerest apologies. Clearly, we underestimated the cleverness of a princess who could make even the fiercest Alpha cross half the Nine Kingdoms to find her.”
JingYi inclined her head, voice cool and composed. “No apology necessary, Prince Kaelendrin. You gave me refuge when I had none. I remain in your debt.”
Her gaze flicked to Alexander only briefly, but he felt it like a lash across his chest.
“Lord Wulfbane knows,” she continued, “though I was born a princess, I was raised a servant. This role suits me better than any crown. As for our marriage”—her lips thinned—“he saw fit to annul it. It is as good as over.”
Heat crept up Alexander’s neck, rebuttal clawing up his throat. Leaning in, he rumbled, “You may be pregnant.”
The group froze again.
JingYi’s composure didn’t break, but something in her face shuttered—a fortress door slamming shut. Her hand, which had been hovering near her belly, clenched at her side, the knuckles whitening.
Alarik’s voice broke the silence. “You consummated the marriage,” he said flatly, golden eyes narrowing, “then tried to annul it?”
Alexander ignored the question. He addressed JingYi directly.
“Yes, I wrote the annulment request.” The admission lodged in his throat.
“In a moment of blind, selfish fury on our wedding night. I wrote it to exorcise a demon, then buried it in my desk drawer. But someone stole it and sent it to the king.”
He watched the words land. The brittle hurt in her eyes, momentarily displaced by sheer shock. Her porcelain composure didn’t crack, but it grew very, very still.
“Stolen,” she repeated, the word a hollow echo.
“Yes. This was an intentional ploy to tear us apart—or a diversion.”
The edge in her gaze now held a sharp, assessing quality. The wounded wife was receding; the survivor calculating.
His gaze swept over her clean, composed appearance—the good-quality Aethonian-style gown that spoke of someone else’s provision.
His own wife, seeking employment. She had taken nothing from their home but her medicine chest and the clothes on her back.
She had chosen to arrive with nothing, to accept another’s help, rather than touch what was his.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You left without a single coin, though you must have seen them on my desk. Do you truly think me so miserly that I wouldn’t spare a coin for my wife’s comfort?”
She finally met his eyes. Her gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it hardened. “I didn’t want to be branded a thief in addition to an ugly cripple.”
The breath left him in a ragged rush. For a moment, he forgot they were in a public square, forgot the world beyond the two of them. The thought of her believing that—believing him capable of that kind of cruelty—cut deep.
“I crossed Issoirea to find you,” he said, quieter now. “Because I couldn’t leave this—couldn’t leave us—broken. King Ferdinand thinks I cast you aside. He’s commanded me to bring you back without delay.”
At that, JingYi blinked. Her face was still calm, but her words were honed thin as glass. “Of course,” she murmured. “The king’s command.”
She didn’t need to say more. The truth hung between them: Duty, not desire. Decree, not devotion.
A sick, hollow feeling punched through his chest. “No. JingYi, that’s not why—” The words tangled in his throat. “Please, listen—”
She lowered her head. A dismissal as she turned away.
Kaelen’s hand clamped onto his shoulder. “Enough,” he muttered. Then louder, to Reiyana and JingYi, “We should continue this at the palace, before the lemon ices lose their title as the main attraction.”
Alexander began to protest. At the palace, JingYi would vanish behind doors he had no right to open. And Reiyana would make damn sure he couldn’t even try.
“Leave it, Cousin,” Kaelen hissed, “before you make an even bigger mess of things. Your wife looks ready to have you thrown into the sea. And, frankly? I’d help her.”
Alexander watched as Reiyana gathered JingYi close, the gesture speaking volumes. Over her shoulder, the princess cast him a scathing look and turned her back on him.
The two women walked toward the palace. Together, they formed a wall he couldn’t scale, a silence he couldn’t breach.
He had no choice but to follow.