Chapter 126
Asher
The moment I stepped through the doors of my private estate quarters, I slammed them shut so hard the frame rattled.
Silence followed, thick and echoing. It pressed in on me like a second skin. I stood there for a long moment, unmoving, fingers curled into fists at my sides.
He marked her. Again.
I could feel it, the wire snapping inside me, like every carefully arranged lie I’d fed myself over the past weeks had collapsed with a single, brutal truth.
He didn’t just touch her. He didn’t just want her.
He finished the bond.
And worse–she let him.
I crossed the room in three long strides and hurled the nearest glass decanter into the wall. It exploded in a starburst of amber liquid and crystal shards.
The scent of spiced whiskey burned up my nose as it dripped down the silk wallpaper, a stain blooming like a wound.
I couldn’t stop.
م
A chair scraped violently across the floor as I kicked it backward. Papers scattered across the rug. A gilded book flew from the desk and hit the window with a dull thud.
It still wasn’t enough.
The rage surged like acid beneath my skin–too sharp, too hot. My breath came in short, shallow bursts, and for a terrifying second, I thought I might shift. Not fully. Just enough to maul something.
I forced my hands to the edge of the desk, gripping it so hard my knuckles turned white. The wood groaned under the pressure.
Images flickered through my mind: Lila in Damon’s bed. Her mouth against his. Her wolf finally howling–not for me, but for him.
Mine.
She was supposed to be mine. Not because of some storybook bond or fairy–tale prophecy. But because I saw her first. Because I understood her.
Because I bent for her when no one else would.
But she never bent for me.
She saw me as a courtier, a flirt, a shadow trailing behind Damon’s throne. And Damon–gods damn him—had to do nothing but stand still, and the world
bent for him,
A knock at the door made me snap upright.
“Leave me,” I barked, not even glancing at the servant outside.
Silence. Then footsteps retreating quickly down the corridor.
Good. No witnesses.
I straightened the cuffs of my ruined shift, slow and deliberate. My reflection in the dark windowpane looked unfamiliar: wild–eyed, breath fogging the glass. But beneath the fury, clarity began to settle.
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Chapter 126
Fine. Let them have their bond. Let them pretend this ends in a crown and a happily ever after. The pitter patter of little paws
I was done playing Damon’s shadow. He took the only thing I wanted.
So, I would take the one thing he couldn’t live without: control. And I knew exactly where to start.
The story had always been too neat. The lineage, the rise, the crown. No King that flawless ever emerged without blood in their roots.
I turned back toward my desk, brushing broken glass from the edge with the back of my sleeve. Beneath the chaos, one drawer remained locked.
Inside it, a letter. A whisper of truth I’d buried years ago. It was time to dig it up again.
Because if Damon thought he could take Lila from me and walk away unchallenged, he was about to learn exactly what happens when you back the wrong wolf into a corner.
The old reading hall at the western wing of the palace had long fallen out of favor. Too drafty in winter. Too close to the lower kitchens. The tapestries had faded, and the chandeliers hung with more dust than crystal.
Perfect for secrets and secret meetings.
I chose a small alcove near the back–half–walled by crumbling stonework and flanked by forgotten bookcases.
A single oil lamp flickered weakly on the table, casting long shadows that trembled with every breath of wind leaking through the cracked windowpanes.
My companion arrived precisely on time.
The Councilman had the kind of face that always looked slightly disapproving. Narrow lips, eyes like pinched steel, and fingers that twitched constantly, as if always on the edge of grasping something just out of reach.
He bowed his head slightly when he saw me but did not sit.
“Strange place for a conversation,” he said, glancing around. “You know how echoes love to carry.”
“Then we’ll speak softly,” I replied, gesturing to the bench across from me.
He took the seat, posture tight. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, letting the flickering lamp throw half my face into shadow.
“I need to talk to you about Damon,” I said.
Dorell didn’t blink. “You’re not the first.”
That piqued my interest.
“Whispers are growing,” I continued, voice low, deliberate. “He’s making rash decisions. Emotional ones. Giving power to a female who hasn’t even finished her first full moon under his mark.”
“Lila,” Dorell said, voice edged with disdain.
“Lila,” I echoed. “She’s not the problem. The problem is what Damon’s becoming for her.”
Dorell leaned in slightly, frowning. “And what would you suggest?”
I let the silence stretch, then said, “I’ve been reading old bloodline records. There are… discrepancies. Records that don’t align, Birth placements, ceremonial attendance logs. Gaps.”
Dorell’s fingers stilled. “That’s a dangerous line of thinking.”
“It’s only dangerous if it’s not true.”
Chapter 126
I let that hang between us for a beat. Then I leaned back, relaxed.
“I’m not making accusations,” I said smoothly. “But if there’s doubt if even the hint of illegitimacy takes root what happens to the Couns confidence? To trust in his rule?”
The Counsellor didn’t answer. But his silence said enough. I smiled, slow and soft.
Before I could speak again, the sound of footsteps in the corridor froze us both. He stiffened. I tilted my head, listening but the steps heyst ántara They paused. Then faded back.
Someone had lingered. Curious. I made a note of that.
Dorell stood abruptly. “You didn’t call me here to muse on hypotheticals. What are you really after, Lord Asher?”
“Balance,” I said. “If Damon continues down this path… we both know the realm won’t survive it.”
He gave a small nod, then turned and left without another word.
I waited five more minutes before moving.
Just outside the far window, tucked into the shadow of the colonnade, a figure shifted and vanished into the hedges. Too slim to be a guard. Too still for a servant.
I smiled again, sharper this time. Let them listen. A rumor only has power if it’s heard.
And I’d just spoken it loud enough for the palace walls to carry.
I didn’t go back the way I came. Instead, I slipped through the servant’s door in the back wall of the reading hall and followed a narrow stairwell that led beneath the kitchens. The stone grew colder, older. Fewer footsteps passed here.
At the landing, I paused and looked down the corridor. A figure stood at attention in the shadows, half–lit by a sconce barely clinging to life.
“Marrek,” I said softly.
The man stepped forward, bowing his head. His hair was cropped short, his face weathered and marked with an old scar that curved from temple to jaw. The scent of iron and leather clung to him, faint but constant.
“Find them,” I murmured. “Tell them it’s time to resurface. Quietly. They’ll know what that means.”
Marrek nodded. “How many?”
“All of them. I want eyes on every corner of this palace by the next full moon.”
He hesitated only a second longer before bowing again, deeper this time. “Yes, my King.”
And as he slipped away into the tunnels, silent as a shadow, I let the last of my smile curl into something sharper.
Damon had taken everything.
Now
AD
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