Chapter 67 Theron
THERON
I watch Elowen hurry ahead of me and every instinct in my body screams at me to follow—to catch her arm, turn her around, make her look at me and listen.
But I don’t do it. I let her walk ahead—her spine straight, her steps quick and determined—as she makes her way up the hill toward the King’s Court.
She hates me now.
Good—she should.
It’s better this way. Better that she’s angry, hurt, pushing me away instead of reaching for me with those soft eyes and that open, trusting heart. Better that she doesn’t want me.
Because I can’t give her what she wants—a normal, simple life.
My jaw tightens as I start forward at last, following her at a distance.
It isn’t hard to keep track of her—not in this crowd.
Even among all the people climbing the winding road, her red hair stands out like a flame.
Those long ruby curls catch the morning light, glowing against the muted colors of the city.
Mine. She should be mine.
For once the thought doesn’t come from my Drake—it comes rising from deep inside me—instinctive, possessive, absolute.
I shove it down because she’s not mine—not anymore. And soon she won’t be anything to me at all—not even a memory.
The idea settles in my chest like a stone as I follow her through the outer gates. The guards barely give her a second glance as she passes—just another priestess hurrying to Court, nothing special, nothing worth noting. They let her through without a word.
I get a different reaction.
Their eyes linger on my horns, on the breadth of my shoulders, on the way I carry myself. They recognize what I am—or close enough. Not human. Not entirely.
But they don’t stop me—no one wants trouble with a Drake.
I move past them without slowing, my gaze fixed on the flash of red ahead of me.
Beyond the gates, the courtyard opens wide—a vast stone expanse already crowded with people.
Vendors shout from hastily set-up stalls, selling food and trinkets and charms to those waiting their turn to claim a Grievance.
Peasants cluster together in nervous groups, clutching petitions or offerings.
Merchants stand in finer clothes, their expressions sharp and calculating.
A few nobles linger at the edges, clearly expecting to be admitted before anyone else.
All of them are waiting for a chance to see the King.
I’ve heard how it works. Not everyone gets in—not even close. The Court picks and chooses who’s worthy of an audience—who has a grievance important enough to be heard.
The rest go home disappointed, but they can always try again next Grievance Day.
I don’t expect anything for myself, of course—I didn’t come here to claim a Grievance. I came for Elowen—I just need to be sure she’s safe, I tell myself.
I spot her again as she reaches the second set of guards—the ones stationed at the great doors leading into the Court itself. She pauses only briefly before they let her pass, disappearing inside without looking back.
My chest tightens—that’s it. Once she gets inside, she’ll find a quiet corner. She’ll do the spell. And then—
I won’t be here anymore.
I’ll be back in my village, sitting in the smoky dimness of The Anvil with a tankard in my hand, listening to the usual bullshit and not thinking about anything more complicated than my next drink.
I’ll never have met her. Never seen her. Never touched her. Never known what it feels like to have her look at me like I matter.
Never changed the color of her eyes by accident, whispers an accusing little voice in my head.
I try to push it away, but the bitter thought is like a blade sliding between my ribs.
My vision goes red for a second, rage and grief surging up so fast and hard it almost takes me to my knees. It isn’t just mine, either. My Drake rises with it—a furious, wounded presence inside me, lashing out at the idea.
“No! We cannot let her forget us! She is ours!”
“No,” I mutter under my breath, forcing my feet to keep moving as I approach the second gate. “She’s not. She can’t be.”
“She is!”
My Drake’s voice—my voice, twisted into something deeper, more primal—pushes back hard. “We claimed her. We tasted her. She belongs to us.”
“She doesn’t belong to anyone,” I grind out, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “And even if she did, it wouldn’t be me.”
“Why?”
The answer comes without hesitation, sharp and certain and absolute—because I would break her.
Because a full Bond isn’t gentle. It isn’t soft touches and slow kisses in the grass. It’s heat and need and claiming so deep it changes everything. It’s the Drake rising fully, taking over, demanding more than she could ever be ready to give.
Demanding everything.
My sweet, curvy little priestess would be terrified. I don’t want that—I just want her to be safe.
I reach the second gate and stride forward, my focus fixed on the doors she just passed through. I won’t lose sight of her—not yet. Not until she works the spell and we both go back in time.
The guards step aside as I approach, though one of them watches me closely, his gaze flicking again to my horns. I ignore him, moving through without slowing.
And then…it happens.
A sound explodes through the air, so sudden and overwhelming it feels like it’s inside my skull. Thousands of bells ringing all at once—high and sharp and deafening—crashing together in a chaotic, discordant chorus.
“Fuck!”
I clap my hands over my ears, the noise slicing through me, my heightened hearing turning it into pure agony. My vision blurs for a second as I stagger, looking wildly around for the source.
What the hell? Is it some kind of alarm? It has to be.
A magical one, maybe—something to alert the Court if someone tries to steal or sneak in where they shouldn’t. I turn, searching for whatever I’ve triggered, my heart pounding, my instincts flaring.
But before I can move—before I can even take a step, hands are grabbing me.
One guard seizes my right arm, the other my left—their grips like iron as they lock onto me.
“Hey—what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snarl, jerking against them. “I haven’t done a fucking thing!”
“Doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do,” one of them growls, tightening his hold. “You set off the alarm.”
My blood runs cold.
“What alarm?” I demand, still fighting them, though the ringing is finally starting to fade from my ears.
The other guard leans in, his expression grim.
“Never you mind about that—now you’re going to see the King.”
And before I can do a damn thing to stop them, they drag me away.