Chapter 16 #2
He stepped inside, and the interior hit him with sheer force.
Hundreds of clan members filled every available space, their voices creating a low rumble of shared grief and whispered memories.
Flowers and ceremonial offerings covered every surface, filling the air with heavy perfume that couldn’t quite mask the underlying scent of sorrow.
And at the front of the hall, surrounded by flickering candles and draped in the royal colors of deep blue and silver, lay the open casket that held what remained of King Voran Deyvar.
Father.
Korran’s steps faltered as reality crashed over him again.
The man who’d taught him about duty and honor, who’d shaped his understanding of leadership through quiet example and firm guidance, was gone.
Forever. No more late-night conversations about territory management, no more shared looks across council meetings when Malvek grew too ambitious, no more moments of connection between a father and son.
His gaze swept the front row, searching for his mother—and stopped abruptly when it landed on an unexpected figure.
Tess sat beside Queen Lysia, her posture straight and composed despite the obvious weight of grief surrounding them.
She wore a black dress that hugged her curves with elegant simplicity, the fabric flowing around her like liquid shadow.
It was one of the dresses he’d provided in that massive wardrobe, his instinctive need to care for his mate expressing itself even when he’d been fighting the bond with everything he had.
She’s here.
The realization hit him with force. She was here, supporting his mother and honoring his father.
Looking every inch the future queen she was meant to be, even if she didn’t know it yet.
Something deep in his chest tightened—not the unbearable weight of grief, but something warmer and more complex.
The mate bond thrummed between them, carrying echoes of her emotions.
Sadness for a man she’d barely known but had tried desperately to save.
Compassion for his mother’s loss. And underneath it all, a steady thread of determination that spoke to her refusal to abandon what she’d started.
Why am I fighting this? Why am I fighting her?
He forced himself to move, navigating through the crowd with the kind of controlled precision that had become second nature.
Clan members parted before him, their faces reflecting mixtures of sympathy and expectation.
He caught Malvek’s calculating stare from across the hall, the older man’s steel-grey eyes carrying unspoken demands about succession and the need to secure the royal line.
Beside Malvek sat Seraya, her dark hair styled to perfection and her blue eyes offering him a smile that managed to be both supportive and inviting.
The perfect potential mate, raised from birth to be a queen, politically advantageous and personally undemanding.
Everything the council wanted for him, everything logic said he should choose.
But his gaze kept drifting back to Tess.
Korran reached the front row and took his place on the other side of his mother, the scent of her grief mixing with the floral arrangements. Queen Lysia looked fragile in a way he’d never seen before, as if losing her fated mate had drained something essential from her very core.
This is what the bond costs, he thought, watching his mother’s barely controlled composure.
But as the fears surfaced, he couldn’t ignore the strength Tess radiated beside them. She wasn’t weakening under the weight of their family’s tragedy or the clan’s scrutiny—she was offering silent support, her presence alone providing comfort to a grieving queen who’d accepted her like family.
The clan elder began the ceremony, his voice carrying the ancient words that would formally honor King Voran’s life and reign.
Korran tried to focus on the familiar rituals, the recounting of his father’s achievements and the formal transfer of royal authority.
But time seemed to compress and expand unpredictably, moments stretching into eternity while entire minutes vanished without trace.
Hold it together, he commanded himself as his composure began to crack. The clan needs to see strength, not weakness.
But the open casket drew his gaze like a magnet, and each glimpse of his father’s still form sent fresh waves of grief crashing through his carefully maintained control.
King Voran looked peaceful in death, his face relaxed in a way it hadn’t been for years, but the absence of that familiar strength was devastating.
I never said goodbye properly.
The mate bond pulsed again, stronger this time, and Korran found himself drawing strength from Tess’s steady presence. She wasn’t just sitting there—she was actively supporting him through their connection, offering emotional stability when his own threatened to crumble entirely.
She’s giving me what I need, he realized with startling clarity. Even after everything.
The revelation shattered something fundamental inside him, some last bastion of resistance that had been built on fear and ideology rather than truth.
Tess wasn’t making him weaker—she was making him stronger.
Her human heart wasn’t a liability—it was exactly what he needed to face the impossible burden of kingship.
Human weakness.
The concept felt laughable now, watching this incredible woman hold his family together through pure force of compassion and will.
The ceremony drew to a close, the elder’s final words echoing through the hall as clan members began to file out in respectful silence.
Korran remained seated, knowing he needed these last moments alone with his father before the burial.
His mother rose slowly, her movements careful and deliberate, and he assumed Tess would accompany her. Instead, Tess stayed.
Queen Lysia paused, glancing between her son and the human woman who’d become so important to their family in such a short time.
A knowing smile crossed her features—the first genuine expression of anything other than grief he’d seen from her all day.
Then she was gone, Orric’s steady presence guiding her from the hall, leaving Korran alone with his mate and the body of the father he’d failed to save.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of finality.