CHAPTER NINETEEN
AUbrEY
I hover at the edge of this strange part of the forest, my wolf form tense with indecision.
The ancient trees tower above me like silent sentinels, their massive trunks gnarled with age and wisdom.
Patches of ethereal blue fungi cling to their bark, casting an otherworldly glow across the moss-covered ground.
The air here feels different—heavier, charged with something I can't identify, like the moment before lightning strikes.
Knox's scent lingers in the air—cedar and storm rain—not fresh but from last night, trailing deeper into this forbidden space.
It draws me forward despite the warning prickle along my spine telling me I shouldn't be here.
My paws sink into the soft, springy moss that carpets the forest floor, each step silent as I advance cautiously.
The usual forest sounds have faded to an unnerving silence.
No birds call from the branches overhead, no small creatures rustle through the underbrush.
Even the breeze seems to hold its breath in this sacred place.
Yet curiosity burns through me like wildfire.
What brought Knox here in the dead of night?
What secrets lie deeper within this strange grove that feels both ancient and alive?
I take another tentative step forward, drawn by that lingering scent and the mystery it promises. The blue-glowing fungi illuminate a narrow path between towering trees, almost like an invitation.
The snap of a twig behind me shatters the silence. I whirl around, muscles tensing as I prepare to face whatever threat approaches. My heart hammers against my ribs as heavy footsteps draw closer, deliberate in their approach.
Then he emerges from between two massive oaks—Astor, Iris's mate, his hulking frame even more imposing in his wolf form.
His dark gray fur is almost black in the strange blue light, his amber eyes burning with unmistakable disapproval as they lock onto mine.
He towers over me, muscles rippling beneath his thick coat as he bares his teeth in warning.
"You shouldn't be here." his deep voice resonates through our mental link, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument.
I take an instinctive step back, lowering my head slightly in acknowledgment of his higher rank, though not in full submission. "I was just running and picked up a familiar scent."
"This place is forbidden to you," he continues, advancing until he stands directly between me and the path leading deeper into the grove. "Only elders and Alphas have the right to enter the Ancient Heart. Even I don't venture beyond this boundary without explicit permission."
The name—Ancient Heart—sends a shiver through me. I'd heard whispers of this place from the castle staff, always spoken with reverence and a touch of fear. A sacred site where our pack's first Alpha established their claim, supposedly connected to the Moon Goddess herself.
"I didn't know," I reply, keeping my tone apologetic while struggling to mask my burning curiosity. "I was simply exploring during my run."
Astor's amber eyes narrow, clearly not believing my innocent act. "These woods have borders for a reason, Princess. Some places aren't meant for casual exploration. Some secrets aren't meant to be uncovered by those unprepared for them."
Something in his tone—the warning beneath the reprimand—makes my fur stand on end. There's more here than simple protocol or tradition. Whatever lies beyond, in the depths of the Ancient Heart, is significant enough to put that edge of caution in the voice of one of the fiercest warriors I've met.
"What's in there?" I can't help asking, even as I know he's unlikely to answer.
"Nothing that concerns you," he responds firmly. "Return to the castle. Now." His mental voice carries the weight of command, making it clear this isn't a suggestion.
Though frustration burns through me at being dismissed like a disobedient pup, I have little choice. Challenging Astor would only raise questions about why I'm so desperate to enter forbidden territory. Questions I can't afford to have asked.
With reluctance dragging at my paws, I turn away from the path and its blue-glowing fungi. Astor follows close behind, his presence a physical reminder of my trespass. Neither of us speaks as we make our way back toward the castle grounds, the silence between us tense and heavy.
By the time the forest thins and the castle's stone towers become visible through the trees, the sun has begun its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.
The regular sounds of the forest have returned—birds calling, leaves rustling—a relief after the unnatural silence of the Ancient Heart.
Astor pauses at the edge of the training grounds, where I'd left my clothes neatly folded beneath an oak tree. "Princess," he says, his mental voice slightly softer now.
I wince at the title, the same way I do every time someone uses it. No matter how many times I've asked people to just call me Aubrey, they refuse to drop the formalities.
"Whatever your reasons for exploring, be careful where you tread. Not all dangers in this kingdom announce themselves with bared teeth and claws."
Before I can respond, he turns and lopes back toward the forest, his massive form soon disappearing among the trees.
I shift back to human form, the transformation rippling through me like a wave as my bones and muscles rearrange themselves.
The cool evening air raises goosebumps on my bare skin as I quickly dress in my training clothes, still damp with dried sweat.
As I make my way back to the castle, Astor's cryptic warning echoes in my mind. What dangers lurk unseen in this place I'm expected to call home? And what secrets does the Ancient Heart hold that could put such wariness in a warrior like Astor?
The castle's weathered stone walls loom above me as I enter through a side door used primarily by servants and guards, hoping to avoid attention. The last thing I need is Queen Grace noticing my disheveled state and questioning where I've been.
I hurry through narrow corridors, taking the servants' stairs to avoid the main hallways where nobles might be gathered.
The stone steps are worn smooth in the center from centuries of use, the air cool and slightly musty in these older passages of the castle.
Sconces cast flickering shadows on the walls as I climb higher, toward the royal wing where my chambers are located.
Once safely inside my rooms, I strip off my training clothes and step into the adjoining bathroom.
The large copper tub gleams in the late afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows.
I pull the bell cord to summon a servant, and within minutes, castle staff arrive with buckets of steaming water heated in the kitchens below.
They fill the tub efficiently, adding lavender oil that rises with the vapor.
As I sink into the heated water, muscles relaxing in the warmth, my mind remains fixed on what I sensed at the Ancient Heart.
That peculiar stillness, the charged air, Knox's lingering scent—all pieces of a puzzle I can't yet solve.
Astor's extreme reaction only confirms that something significant lies within that forbidden grove, something worth protecting.
I scrub my skin vigorously, as if I could wash away the confusion clouding my thoughts alongside the dirt and sweat.
The lavender-scented soap creates a fragrant lather as I try to focus on practical matters.
I need to remain vigilant, to remember my true purpose here despite the increasing complications.
By the time I emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a soft linen towel, the sun has set fully, casting my chambers into shadow.
I light several candles, their warm glow creating pools of amber light across the polished wooden floor and the intricate tapestries adorning the walls.
Selecting a simple gown of deep burgundy velvet from the massive wardrobe—another gift from Queen Grace—I dress quickly, my fingers deftly working the laces.
A soft knock at my door interrupts my thoughts. I open it to find a young servant girl, her blonde hair neatly tucked beneath her cap, her eyes downcast in deference.
"Your Highness," she curtsies deeply, "Queen Grace requests your presence tomorrow morning for protocol training. She asked me to remind you to bring the etiquette manual she provided last week."
The title grates against my ears as it always does. I've lost count of how many times I've asked the castle staff to simply call me Aubrey, but they act as if using my actual name would somehow curse them.
"Thank you," I reply, offering a smile the girl doesn't see with her gaze still fixed on the floor. "Please inform Her Majesty, I'll be there."
The girl curtsies again before retreating down the corridor, her footsteps fading into silence.
I close the door with a sigh, leaning against it for a moment.
Protocol training—hours of memorizing which fork to use for which course, how deep to curtsy to various dignitaries, and the proper forms of address for every noble rank.
All useless knowledge for a warrior like me, yet essential for maintaining my cover as the devoted future crown princess.
Shaking off my weariness, I begin making my way toward the dining hall, knowing another elaborate royal dinner awaits.
The corridors are quiet at this hour, most of the castle staff busy preparing the evening meal.
Elaborate tapestries depicting hunting scenes and battles line the walls, interspersed with portraits of stern-faced ancestors watching my progress with painted eyes that seem to follow my movements.
Halfway there, a strange sensation creeps up my spine—the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
I slow my pace, ears straining for any sound out of place, nostrils flaring as I search for an unfamiliar scent.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I turn slowly, scanning the empty corridor behind me.
Nothing appears, but the feeling persists, a heavy pressure between my shoulder blades. I continue forward with greater caution, every sense alert for danger.
A soft fluttering sound draws my attention to a narrow window to my left.
Perched on the stone sill is a crow, its feathers glossy black in the torchlight, its beady eyes fixed on me with unnatural intensity.
Something about its stillness—the way it doesn't shift or blink—sends a chill racing down my spine.
As I stare back at it, frozen in place, a familiar voice slithers into my mind like ice water through veins.
"Having second thoughts about your mission, dear Aubrey?" Avery's lilting accent is unmistakable, her words dripping with false sweetness.
My breath catches in my throat. The crow tilts its head, those black eyes never leaving mine. "How are you doing this?" I whisper, glancing around to ensure the corridor remains empty.
A sound like distant laughter echoes in my mind. "Dark witches have many talents, little wolf. This one simply allows me to check on your progress—or lack thereof."
The crow hops closer along the windowsill, its movements jerky and unnatural. From beneath one wing, it produces a small crystal vial filled with clear liquid. The tiny container rolls across the stone sill toward me, catching the torchlight as it moves.
"A special blend," Avery continues, her voice a silken purr in my thoughts. "Just a few drops in the crown prince's wine, and he'll reveal any secret you wish to hear. His guard will drop completely, leaving him vulnerable to your... questioning."
I stare at the vial, my stomach twisting with unease. "Poison?" I whisper, unable to keep the shock from my voice.
"Not lethal," comes the dismissive reply. "Think of it as... a conversational aid. Jax needs information immediately, not your tedious attempts at seduction and friendship."
The accusation stings, sharp and unexpected. "I've been gathering information," I insist, keeping my voice low. "I've learned the patrol schedules, the—"
"Ancient news," Avery cuts me off. "Jax expected more from you by now. Much more. Remember who rescued you when your family was slaughtered? Who gave you purpose when you had nothing? Your gratitude seems to be... waning."
Despite the chill of the stone corridor, heat floods my cheeks.
The reminder of my debt to Jax is like a physical weight on my shoulders, crushing and inescapable.
Yet confusion mingles with the guilt—Jax hadn't mentioned being disappointed in my progress when he visited yesterday.
In fact, he'd seemed pleased to see me, almost..
. fond. Had he simply forgotten his frustrations in the moment, too happy at our reunion to scold me?
"Oh please," Aria's voice cuts through my thoughts, dripping with sarcasm. "Can't you see what this is? The timing, the guilt, the manipulation? Wake up, Aubrey."
I push her voice away, focusing on Avery's accusations. Something about this—about Avery's methods—feels wrong in a way I can't quite define.
I think of the blood on Knox's uniform yesterday, the damning evidence of violence Sir Kirill described. I should feel no hesitation about using whatever means necessary against someone capable of such cruelty. Yet my instincts rebel at the thought of poison, of such dishonorable tactics.
"There has to be another way," I murmur, more to myself than to Avery. "I can get the information without poisoning him."
The crow's wings flutter in agitation, its beak opening in a silent caw. "You've been here for weeks with nothing useful to show," Avery's voice hisses, all pretense of warmth vanishing. "Is it the mate bond clouding your judgment? Have you forgotten what you're there for?"
Her accusation strikes like a physical blow, the suggestion that I would betray Jax—after everything he's done for me—because of some mystical connection making my chest tighten with indignation.
"How dare you," I snap, caution abandoned in my anger. "I've risked everything coming here. My loyalty to Jax has never wavered." The words taste like ash in my mouth, doubt gnawing at the edges of my conviction.
"Prove it," comes the cold reply. "Take the vial. Use it tonight. Get us what we need."
The memory of Knox's blood-spattered uniform flashes through my mind, steeling my resolve. I reach for the small container, the glass cool against my fingertips. Whatever my personal feelings about these tactics, I owe Jax everything. If this is what he requires of me, how can I refuse?
"I despise Knox!" I declare, defensive and desperate to prove my loyalty. "After what I saw yesterday, how could I feel anything else?"
A deep voice answers from behind me, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath stirring the hair at the nape of my neck. "Am I really that repulsive to you?"
My blood turns to ice in my veins as I slowly turn to face him.
Knox stands mere inches away, his green eyes dark with hurt and confusion, his proud shoulders rigid beneath his formal royal blue jacket.
The hallway torches cast flickering shadows across his handsome face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw clenched tight with anger.
The crow lets out a harsh caw before taking flight, disappearing through the window and taking Avery's presence with it. But the damage is already done, her poisonous words hanging in the air between Knox and me like a physical barrier.