The carriage rumbled steadily toward the capital city , its wheels crunching along the gravel path. Volkov sat inside, engrossed in a book. His fingers skimmed the pages, his mind drifting through the words—until something caught his attention.
A subtle shift in the air. He slowly turned his head, his gaze drawing toward the glass behind him. Through the trees on the side, he spotted it: the white owl. It flew with purpose, cutting through the air with speed. Was it rushing toward him, or was it simply ensuring that he left the kingdom? The thought made him smirk. It could only be the latter; Leroy didn't care about him.
Lies.
Leroy did care, Volkov knew. He just didn't understand yet. The boy was young, confused by the strange changes discoveries in his body. He was resisting it.
With a sigh, Volkov turned back around, his ungloved hand tearing a piece of paper. He reached behind him , grabbed a bottle of ink, and dipped the quill, his steady movements swift as he wrote the message he needed.
Satisfied with his words, Volkov opened the window on the left side of the carriage and tossed the folded paper out into the wind. He then struck the side of the carriage, signaling the coachman to increase the speed.
Glancing back, he saw the little bird still trailing behind. It followed closely for a time, but as they neared the citizens' town, the carriage finally picked up enough speed to leave it behind. Volkov's eyes stayed trained on the owl until it finally shifted back into Leroy's form.
For a brief moment, their eyes met. Leroy's green eyes lingered on him, sharp and searching. Volkov simply smiled, then turned his attention forward once more.
He struck the carriage again, signaling them to slow. As they came to a stop, Volkov watched Leroy unfold the paper. His face reddened as he read the words.
And with that, Volkov's smile deepened.
---
Elara stood outside the castle walls, flanked by Lyric and a few of her attendants, including Given. They waited—perhaps for Theron, or for her newly appointed guard. Or perhaps both, Elara thought, as she spotted Theron approaching, accompanied by a few of his attendants , guards and ... Darius.
Darius .
The name Darius lingered in her mind, repeating over and over as she watched him. She didn't realize she had whispered it under her breath, but Given, ever sharp, caught it. His face lit up on the spot . He had completely forgotten about the Alpha lycan who was now being walked like some sort of animal - a dog .
Elara exhaled sharply, her gaze shifting away from Darius. He was too handsome to stare at for long. And now that she had a hint of the tension between them, it was even harder to maintain her composure, especially when all that she could think about is him between her legs - pleasing him and doing all sort of things he pleased with her .
When Theron finally reached her, he stepped in front, drawing her attention. She looked up at him, fighting the urge to glance at the man who had begun to occupy far too much of her thoughts.
"This will be your newly appointed guard," Theron said, his voice steady.
This ? Elara, Lyric, and Given all thought at once, though Given masked his reaction well. But there was no hiding the fact that he thought Darius had earned it—whether he deserved it or not.
"May I ask why?" Elara asked, her tone innocent and calm, betraying none of the thoughts swirling in her mind.
"Because," Theron began, turning his attention to Darius, who was still chained, "your current guards are not trained to handle the rogue werewolves roaming the forests. We'll be heading to a secluded area where the new town is being built, and I want you safe."
Elara's gaze flickered to Darius, and she caught the subtle shift in Theron's eyes when he turned back to the lycan.
"And," Theron continued, "we've all seen what he's capable of. I think he can handle a few rogue werewolves."
Rogue werewolves? Given thought, glancing subtly at the King. The King is bringing an Alpha lycan to kill his own kind? And choosing another creature over his own people? What kind of madness is this? Given wasn't just surprised—he was amazed . Theron was playing a dangerous game, and Given was curious to see how it would unfold. He was threading carefully, but with purpose.
Now, how would this all play out? Given wondered. Would Darius choose his people, or would he choose the woman he once loved and perhaps still does—who didn't remember him, or perhaps didn't fully? The reason they were in this mess in the first place was that Darius had chosen his people over her in the first place.
But then, suddenly, their eyes locked. Given's gaze met the Queen's.
'What was that ?' Given thought, his heart skipping a beat. Could she still hear his thoughts?