Free Web NovelChapter 22: Shadows beneath
The grand hall of Lycanthria’s palace echoed with chatter and false laughter of noble packs who had come from every border to attend the quarterly banquet, the tradition meant to remind them that peace still existed, even if only by name.
Aveloria stood beside her father on the raised dais, her expression calm, regal, and practiced. Her gown, dark silver trimmed with embroidery of the moon’s crest, caught the flicker of firelight. Around her, nobles danced, toasted, and flattered, but all she could hear was the dull rhythm of her heartbeat and the restless pacing of her wolf inside her chest.
It had been a month since Theron’s visit and a month since the garden confrontation that still replayed in her mind whenever she thought of him. He had left a week after the feast, returning to his pack, but his strong and burning scent seemed to cling to her memory like smoke.
Now, the hall felt colder despite the warmth of the fires. Her gaze swept across the crowd, familiar faces, careful smiles. Then she saw him. Marek.
He stood near the far table where the representatives of the Crimson Fang pack were seated. His father, Eldric, was beside him, with the same proud posture and deceptive ease. They looked the picture of loyalty every inch, charming the court with words that dripped honey.
Marek caught her eye, and for a heartbeat, that old ache she swore she had buried tugged inside her chest. He smiled, polite, warm. But something in that smile had changed. It didn’t reach his eyes.
Aveloria tilted her head slightly, studying him like her mother once studied opponents in council, quiet and detached. He looked composed and attentive, but his gaze slipped, just briefly.
It wasn’t for her. It was to Rowena.
She was seated a few tables away, near the other daughters of noble houses. Her dress was soft pink, her curls pinned with jeweled petals, and on her wrist shimmered a delicate bracelet etched with veins of red light
Aveloria’s wolf stirred, uneasy. Watch her.
Rowena’s smile was all innocence when she caught Marek’s glance. She lowered her lashes and looked away, the smallest act of modesty. But Aveloria saw the move, too deliberate, too measured. And her jaw tightened.
The room erupted with a toast. Elder Eldric stood, cup raised high, speaking about unity, about the strength of the noble bloodlines that had kept Lycanthria safe for centuries. The crowd cheered, the same empty ritual repeated every quarter. But beneath the surface of laughter and clinking cups, something darker thrummed: jealousy, hunger, alliances hidden behind silk and fragrances.
Aveloria smiled faintly when nobles approached her with bows and flattering words, but she could feel it, their eyes on her, whispering about her four mates. She was both revered and feared. Every movement she made was watched, interpreted, and twisted.
When the musicians began another dance and her father turned to speak with a visiting Duke, Aveloria quietly slipped away through the side corridor leading out to the moonlit terrace.
The air outside was cold and honest. She gripped the stone railing, inhaling deeply. Her pulse was uneven.
Why had Marek’s gaze toward Rowena unsettled her so much? It shouldn’t. She had vowed not to fall again into the trap of emotions that once destroyed her. But the wolf inside her growled lowly, a sound of possessiveness, of warning.
"Jealousy doesn’t suit you," a voice came from behind.
Aveloria turned sharply. Rowena stood in the archway, her sweet smile painted in perfect composure. The moonlight hit her face softly, making her look almost fragile.
"Didn’t mean to startle you," Rowena said, walking closer with graceful steps. "I only came to make sure you were well. You left the hall so suddenly."
"I needed air," Aveloria said.
Rowena’s tone was syrup-sweet. "Of course. Nights like this can be...overwhelming with all those eyes on you, whispered about your mates. I can’t imagine how it feels to have four men fighting for your affection. You must feel like the moon herself, always adored."
Aveloria’s lips pressed into a thin line. "What do you want, Rowena?"
"Nothing," she said lightly, clasping her hands behind her back. "Only to offer my congratulations. You’ve been blessed by the Moon herself. Four mates, four powerful men bound to you. I almost envy you."
Her words dripped with mock sincerity.
"But I suppose blessings like that come with a cost, don’t they? Too much power rarely ends well."
Aveloria’s eyes narrowed. "Be careful with your words."
Rowena tilted her head, her expression still innocent, but her tone sharpening beneath it. "Oh, I didn’t mean anything ill. I wonder which of them you’ll reject first. Everyone is betting, you know. Some say the rogue won’t last. Others think the Alpha will claim you before the others can. And then there’s poor Marek..."
Aveloria’s wolf stirred, growling. "What about Marek?"
Rowena smiled, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. "He’s too desperate for approval. Always trying to prove himself. I heard his father pushed him to pursue you, but do you really think he wants you for love? Or for power?"
Aveloria’s chest tightened. The words hit where she was weakest.
Rowena took another step forward. "He watches you, but not how a man in love should. He watches you like you’re a throne."
Aveloria’s voice was quiet, controlled. "You seem to know a lot about him."
"Oh, we talk," Rowena said smoothly. "He’s kind. Confused, maybe. But kind. You should see the way he looks when you’re not around."
Her smile widened slightly as she lifted her wrist. The thin bracelet caught the moonlight, glinting red for a moment. Aveloria’s gaze locked on it; something about it made her wolf recoil. Her skin prickled, a chill racing down her spine.
"What’s that?" she asked.
"This?" Rowena twirled it playfully. "A gift. Said to protect the heart. Isn’t it lovely?"
Her tone was teasing, almost mocking.
Aveloria’s control slipped for a moment. "Enough pretending," she said quietly. "Stop playing this game, Rowena."
Rowena’s smile cracked for the first time. Then she laughed softly, the sound hollow. "A game? Oh, Aveloria...everything here is a game. You, of all people, should know that."
"Stay away from me," Aveloria said firmly. freewēbnoveℓ.com
But Rowena didn’t move. Her voice lowered, sweet and venomous. "Why? Afraid I might steal what you have? Don’t worry. I don’t want your mates. Especially not Marek. He’s too easy. He wants power more than he wants love. Men like him...always betray the ones who trust them most."
The words sliced deep, dragging old wounds to the surface. Images from her past life, the same man, the same promise, the same betrayal flashed in her mind like open scars.
Rowena watched her, studying the flicker in her expression. "Oh...that struck a nerve, didn’t it?"
Aveloria took a step forward, her eyes flashing with warning. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Don’t I?" Rowena’s voice was stripped of sweetness. "You think destiny chose you because you’re special? Maybe it chose you because it wants to break you again."
Silence.
The wind rustled through the courtyard, carrying thick tension that almost buzzed.
Aveloria’s wolf surged violently beneath her skin, ready to strike, but she forced herself to breathe. She couldn’t lose control here, not in the open, not with eyes possibly watching from the shadows.
Rowena’s smirk returned, faint but cruel. "If I were you, I’d start by rejecting Marek. He’s the weakest of them all."
Aveloria’s voice trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the effort to stay composed. "Leave."
Rowena gave a slight bow, mockingly graceful. "As you wish, my Lady."
She turned and glided back into the hall, the faint jingle of her bracelet echoing like a whisper of threat. When she was gone, Aveloria let out a shaky breath. Her palms were cold, her heart racing. freewebnσvel.cѳm
Something was wrong, terribly wrong. That bracelet. The way Marek’s gaze lingered on Rowena. The sudden shift in his behavior, the way he looked both guilty and distant.
It all connected somehow, though she couldn’t yet see how. Her wolf whined softly inside her. She’s dangerous.
"I know," Aveloria whispered under her breath. "I can feel it."
She turned toward the railing again, staring into the night. The gardens stretched out below, quiet and endless. The stars above looked peaceful, but nothing about this peace was real.
Tonight, she realized, the war wasn’t only outside their borders. In the laughter, charm, and small glances traded across crowded halls, it was here. The real battles were fought with whispers and manipulation, not claws and blood.
And if she wanted to survive this world, she would have to learn the same game Rowena was playing to change her fate.
Aveloria straightened her shoulders, her expression hardening. The cold air didn’t sting anymore; it cleared her thoughts.
Rowena’s words might have cut her, but they reminded her of something she had almost forgotten; never again would she be blindsided.
Not by love. Not by mates. Not by fate.
When she finally returned to the hall, the music had changed to a softer tune. Marek stood near the corner, talking to Eldric. His gaze flickered toward her briefly, questioning, almost hesitant.
Aveloria didn’t return it. She walked past him, her head held high, her voice calm when she told the steward she was retiring early. But as she walked through the long corridor toward her chamber, the thought echoed in her mind like a warning; if Rowena’s words are valid, Marek isn’t just lost. He’s being used.
