CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I feel the cool evening breeze flowing through my hair as I walk down the ancient cobblestone path of the castle gardens.
The setting sun casts long shadows across the meticulously maintained flower beds, painting everything in hues of amber and gold.
I've just finished another exhausting crown princess training session with Queen Grace—four hours of proper etiquette, diplomatic history, and the intricacies of royal bloodlines.
My shoulders ache from maintaining perfect posture, and my mind feels like it's stuffed with cotton.I would love nothing more than to collapse in my chamber and soak in a hot bath, washing away the day's frustrations.
Instead, I'm here, trying to savor these precious moments of solitude before tomorrow brings another grueling round of duties.
The sweet fragrance of roses mingles with the earthy scent of freshly watered soil, offering small comfort to my weary spirit.My daily routine at the castle has become a carefully orchestrated dance—mornings spent in the arena, sword clashing against sword, sweat soaking through my training leathers, muscles burning with exertion.
Then afternoons and evenings devoted to learning the impossible art of being the future crown princess.
The mud and honesty of the training grounds replaced by silk gowns and political double-speak.
It was the compromise we agreed to when Queen Grace informed me with that stern, unyielding expression that I would no longer serve as Knox's personal guard.I wasn't too shocked by the decision—had been expecting it, really, ever since that fateful night when Queen Grace stood before the entire court in her midnight blue ceremonial gown and declared me the future crown princess.
The memory still makes my stomach twist with a mixture of pride and dread.
I don't hate the lessons exactly, but there are just so many rules—don't slouch, don't speak unless spoken to in certain company, don't show emotion during negotiations, don't, don't, don't. How does anyone possibly keep track of it all without going mad?
I sigh deeply, dropping onto an ornate marble bench nestled among a cluster of crimson roses.
Their thorny stems remind me of the dangers hidden beneath beautiful appearances—a lesson the court has taught me well.
I close my eyes, letting my fingers trace the cool, smooth surface of the bench.Suddenly, a familiar scent cuts through the garden's perfume—sandalwood and pine, with a hint of leather.
My heart skips a beat before I even consciously recognize it.
I shoot up from the bench, spine straightening as if pulled by invisible strings.
Slowly turning, I scan the deepening shadows beneath the ancient oak trees lining the garden's edge.My eyes widen in shock as they land on a tall figure half-hidden in the dusky light, his travel-worn cloak unable to disguise the regal bearing I would recognize anywhere.
The shock melts into pure joy that floods my chest like warm honey.
"Prince Jax?" My voice comes out breathless, disbelieving, as I rush across the garden, loose stones crunching beneath my slippers.
Without thinking of propriety or anyone seeing us, I throw my arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug.
His arms wrap around me, solid and real, smelling of distant places and adventures I can only imagine.
"Hello dear," he says, wrapping his strong arms around me as his familiar scent—sandalwood and pine with undertones of something sharper—fills my nostrils.I close my eyes, waiting for the usual comfort I feel when he's around, that sense of belonging and safety that's been my anchor since he rescued me.
But something feels different. A chill runs down my spine despite the warmth of his embrace, and I can't explain why.My brows furrow in confusion as we pull apart.
Something flickers in his amber eyes—something calculated and assessing—but it vanishes so quickly that I wonder if I imagined it.
I quickly smooth my expression into a smile before he notices my momentary unease.
"I've missed you, dear." His voice is honey-smooth as his fingertips brush against my cheek.
He gently pushes a strand of my windblown hair behind my ear, his touch lingering longer than necessary.
"How's the castle treating you? My manor is empty without you around.
"My cheeks flush with warmth where his skin brushed mine.
The golden light of sunset catches on the silver embroidery of his midnight-blue traveling cloak, making him look every inch the powerful royal he is.
I've always admired his confidence, his strength—he saved me from obscurity and gave me purpose, after all.Yet, something feels different right now.
As my heart begins to melt at his words—words I've longed to hear from him—I'm suddenly aware of a strange new disquiet I can't explain.
It's like two opposing currents within me: the familiar comfort of his presence battles with an unexpected wariness that whispers from somewhere deep inside.
The garden around us seems to dim, the roses losing their vibrant color as I focus entirely on his face, searching for the source of my unease.
"I..." I take a deep breath before answering, the scent of roses and evening dew filling my lungs.
"The castle is..." I pause, searching for honest words.
"Grand. Beautiful. Overwhelming at times.
" My fingers fidget with the delicate lace trim of my sleeve—a nervous habit I've picked up since arriving at court.
"It must be quite a change from you," Jax says, his voice gentle as he steps closer.
His fingers brush against the fine silk of my sleeve, the touch lingering as his eyes take in the transformation a few weeks at court has wrought in me.I part my lips to reply when a bitter voice slices through the garden's tranquility.
"I bet so much of a change her loyalty now belongs elsewhere.
"I spin around to find Sir Kirill, one of Jax's right-hand men, emerging from the shadows.
His weathered face is hard with disdain, making the scar along his jaw more prominent than I remember from the training grounds.
"Nice to see you, Sir Kirill," I greet, forcing lightness into my voice, ignoring his statement.
His hard eyes glare at me with such disgust that I take an involuntary step back.
My brow furrows in confusion as the evening breeze suddenly feels colder against my skin.
"Do you even still care about our Lord?" The accusation hangs in the air like a blade, sharp enough to draw blood.
"What do you mean? Of course, I do," I respond, my voice smaller than intended.
The commander's presence has always been intimidating, but there's something new in his hatred that unsettles me deeply.He steps fully into the light, and I notice his own healing wounds—a ragged cut across his forearm, and bruising along his temple.
"Then why haven't you asked about his wounds?
Too busy playing princess while he bleeds.
"The commander's words hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath.
My eyes snap to Jax, really seeing him for the first time since our embrace.
Beneath his fine traveling cloak, I now notice the careful way he holds himself, the slight grimace when he shifts his weight.
My gaze catches the edge of a bandage peeking from beneath his collar, another wrapped around his wrist, partially hidden by his sleeve.
"Oh my goodness! What happened?" The question tumbles out as my heart constricts painfully.
I move toward him, hands outstretched but hesitant to touch, afraid of causing more pain.Jax's eyes soften as they meet mine.
His mouth curves into that familiar smile that once made me feel safe.
"Nothing you should concern yourself with, dear," he says gently.Sir Kirill scoffs, his voice dripping with venom.
"No! She should know how her lovely mate and his royal guards have been terrorizing common people.
How, if not for you getting injured trying to protect a family from their brutality, you wouldn't have suffered the casualties you did.
"Jax remains silent, his expression unreadable as he watches me absorb each painful word.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, voice trembling, desperately searching Jax's face for denial.
I think of Knox, of the men and women I've trained alongside these past weeks—their laughter, their honor.
Could they really be capable of such cruelty?
Sir Kirill steps closer, his shadow falling over me.
"But why would you care? You're too busy learning which fork to use at dinner while your people suffer.
"Each word is carefully chosen, a dart aimed at my heart.
My chest squeezes with guilt as I try to make sense of his accusations.
He can't be saying the truth, I think, but Jax's silence speaks volumes.Just as Sir Kirill opens his mouth to continue his assault, Jax's hand shoots out with startling speed.
His fingers wrap around his commander's throat, squeezing just enough to silence him.
"That's enough," Jax snarls, his voice dangerously low.The tension crackles between them, thick enough to cut.
But before it can escalate further, all three of us freeze as the distinct sound of armored footsteps echoes from the path leading to the garden.
Castle guards on their evening patrol.Jax releases his grip on Sir Kirill's throat, shooting me one last meaningful look before both men melt back into the shadows of the garden, leaving me alone with my churning thoughts.I remain rooted where they left me, the sweet scent of roses now sickening as I try to wrap my head around Sir Kirill's words.
My fingers tremble slightly against the fabric of my evening dress.
I don't want to believe him. His accusations can't be true.
They simply can't.The familiar sounds of armor clinking and boots against stone breaks through my haze.
Multiple footsteps approach the area near the gardens, and Knox's distinctive scent—cedar and storm rain—cuts through the evening air.
Before I can think better of it, I'm rushing toward the sound, drawn by instinct and the desperate need to disprove the poison Sir Kirill planted in my mind.I halt the second I'm close enough to see them emerging from the castle's side entrance.
The dying sunlight catches on something wet and dark splattered across their uniforms, turning it copper-red in the fading light.Knox and his men are covered in blood.They walk with easy strides, their faces bearing triumphant smiles that make my stomach turn.
I scan my memory frantically—there were no reports of threats or riots in the city today.
No announcements of bandits or danger. So why do they have blood staining their royal uniforms like macabre badges of honor?
Sir Kirill's words echo in my mind: "...
terrorizing common people..."My heart twists painfully in my chest. A cold sweat breaks across my skin despite the warm evening air.
Could it really be true? Could the person who makes my wolf sing, whose smile I've started to look forward to each morning at training, truly be capable of such cruelty?
Each dark, congealing drop on their uniforms feels like damning evidence supporting the commander's accusations.The scar across Knox's left eyebrow, which I once found so intriguing, now seems sinister.
The strength in his hands that had impressed me during sparring now makes me wonder what—or who—those hands have crushed.This realization burns through me like wildfire, scorching away doubts and distractions.
It confirms why I shouldn't let myself deter from the reason I am here.
I've been wasting precious time worrying about which fork to use at dinner, how to curtsy properly, how to be the best crown princess I can be.
No. I should be focused on helping Jax achieve his goal and nothing more.
The castle, the title, the lessons—they're merely tools to an end.I turn away sharply, my slippers silent against the stone as I move to retreat to my room.
My mind races with plans, with ways to use my position to help Jax expose these monsters masquerading as protectors.
"Aubrey?"A hand touches my arm, warm and firm.
I stiffen, every muscle tensing beneath the unwelcome contact.I spin around to see Knox standing closer than I expected.
His handsome face—that face I've caught myself staring at during training, that face that's appeared unbidden in my dreams—has smears of blood splattered across his tanned skin.
The crimson droplets stand stark against his cheekbone, another streak across his jaw.
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest, constricting until I can barely breathe.
"Where are you in such a rush to?" he asks, his voice deep and smooth as he looks down at me with that half-smile that once made my pulse quicken.
His blue eyes search mine with intensity that used to make me feel seen.
Now they just make me feel exposed, vulnerable.