15 #3
Thorne’s brow knitted from his post, stepping forward with suspicion.
“Doctor Ardel, that woman can barely keep her feet. She could be hiding contraband toxicity.”
Iven turned on the captain with a cutting glare.
“I am the one who dictates toxicology for this district, Captain Thorne. This girl is suffering the aftermath of a common lung infection, worsened by labor in damp rooms and lack of proper nourishment. If you wish to contradict my medical report, produce a diploma from Asteria’s alchemical circle or hold your tongue. ”
Thorne clenched his fists, but backed away two paces without daring to reply.
“You may return to the kitchen, girl,” Iven told Liora, stowing his instruments with quiet calm.
Liora dipped her head, preparing to turn on her heel and slip through the service door.
Yet at that exact instant, a violent gust of east wind blasted through the yard, whipping up a cloud of powdered snow that snapped the hangings and forced the soldiers to shield their faces with their cloaks.
The freezing gale caught the hem of her apron.
Liora stumbled slightly on the iced flagstones, lifting her chin by instinct to keep her balance.
And for two endless seconds, her eyes locked directly onto mine.
The outside world fell away.
These were not the submissive eyes of a punished servant, nor the dull stare of an ailing Beta.
They were two wells of stormy gray, brilliant with untamed intelligence, bruised pride, and a fierce resolve that sheared the breath from my lungs like an open blade.
A live jolt pierced my sternum through and through.
My primal wolf unleashed a deafening roar within my chest, recognizing its equal, its bloodmate, the only creature in the entire kingdom capable of holding the gaze of a lord of Vhal without bending the knee.
My fingers clamped the hilt of my sword so hard the glove’s leather creaked in the silence of the yard.
The primal urge—the possessive beast that had spent weeks hunting its mate—demanded I stride forward three paces, catch her by the waist, tear her from Thorne’s reach, and proclaim before every witness that this woman belonged to me by right of blood.
Yet the voice of my own reason, tempered by the memory of the gash on her palm and Iven’s warning of the fragility of her poisoned organs, pinned my boots to the stone.
*If I claim her now, I destroy her.*
If I exposed her identity in this yard, Thorne would dispatch a rider to Lord Odran tonight charging her with high treason for the Solstice infiltration, and the Council of Elders would turn her into a political hostage to force my abdication.
Protection was not possession.
I held her gaze with solemn intensity, sending across the frozen air a silent, iron vow that no pack law could break:
*I know who you are. And I will let no one harm you.*
Liora blinked slowly, lowered her eyes once more to the stones, and crossed the kitchen threshold without haste, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
I turned back toward Maevra and Celene, who stood watching from the upper gallery with tense, expectant faces.
“Lady Valen.” My voice rang out steady, echoing across the yard with the unyielding authority of the Crown.
“My lord?”
“The inspection of this estate has revealed grave irregularities in the land title deeds and the presence of adulterated suppressant batches in your dispensary.”
Maevra went visibly pale.
“My lord, I assure you that—”
“I am not finished,” I cut in hard. “The law empowers me to place this estate under judicial seizure. Yet we will not disrupt the tenants’ agricultural labor while the investigation is underway.”
I looked at Thorne, then at the escort soldiers.
“Captain Thorne, order a military encampment pitched in the north meadow, beside the highway and five hundred paces from the boundary of this estate. We will establish our command post there over the coming days to oversee the eastern district and investigate the suppressant smuggling ring supplying this territory.”
Celene stepped forward, an expression of surprise and ill-concealed relief on her face.
“You will remain on our lands, Lord of the Crown?”
“We will remain in the outer camp, Lady Celene,” I answered curtly. “No soldier will sleep beneath this roof, but no wagon, no grain shipment, and no resident of this house will leave the estate’s perimeter without a pass signed by my clerk.”
Maevra’s hands clenched in desperate tension.
She had tried to dazzle us with feasts and linen cloths to turn us away from her secret within twenty-four hours.
And now she faced two companies of the royal guard planted at her gate, cutting off any attempt to sell the land, remove an inhabitant of the estate, or destroy evidence under review.
“As the sovereign commands,” the woman murmured, lowering her head in bitter submission.
I turned on my heel and walked toward my horse, feeling the freezing afternoon air strike the nape of my neck.
The hunt was not over.
Yet the rules of the game had changed forever.
I was no longer chasing a ghost through misty woods.
I was here, paces from her window, watching over the gates of a cage.