The Wolf's Queen Vows

Chapter 57: His Dark Pupil

As the charm glowed, a shadow flickered briefly in Alaric’s eyes. His posture shifted. His breath came slower.

Eirene smiled. "You know this is the right thing. You must protect Lycanthria. Protect her, even if she doesn’t understand."

The King blinked slowly. "Protect...her."

"Yes," Eirene whispered. "You will summon her. Question her. Demand the truth. She must not step beyond these walls again. Promise me that, my King."

"I...promise."

"Good," Eirene said softly, releasing the charm. The air in the room steadied again, though something behind his eyes remained different, darker.

Eirene moved closer to him. "You should wear this. I got this from the temple. It’s a protective charm to ward off evil." She fastened the bracelet on his wrist. "Never take it off my king."

Alaric nodded. "I will summon Aveloria and have her questioned."

She curtsied. "I’ll leave you to it. I only pray that you make the right decision, for all our sakes."

When she walked out, a small, satisfied smile played on her lips.

Aveloria was almost at her father’s chambers when she saw Eirene stepping out and moving towards the other exit.

A guard approached her. "Your Highness, His Majesty summons you."

Her chest tightened. "Fine. Lead the way."

As she followed, she tried to calm her thoughts. Maybe he just wanted an update about the attack. But deep down, she knew it was more than that.

When she entered the room, the air was thick with tension. The King stood at the desk, his face pale but stern.

Aveloria’s eyes narrowed. "Father," she said, bowing slightly.

"Sit," he said sharply.

She obeyed, taking the seat before him. "You asked for me." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

"Tell me about the rogue."

The words hit her like a slap. "Lucien?"

"Yes," he said coldly. "How long has he been sneaking into this palace?"

Aveloria straightened. "He hasn’t."

"Speak the truth, Aveloria!" He snapped.

"He came on the night of the feast."

"So you admit he was here."

She hesitated. "Yes, but—"

The King’s hand slammed the desk. "And you lied to me when I asked if you were alone after the feast."

Aveloria froze. "I—"

"Do not deny it," he snapped. "You allowed a rogue to enter my palace without permission. Do you know what that means? The guards could have been compromised. The routes are exposed. The border ambushed because of your carelessness."

"That’s not true!" she said quickly. "Lucien had nothing to do with that. He came to warn me."

"Warn you of what?"

"The Wanderers. He said they’re serving a witch, someone inside the palace. He told me to look for the truth."

The King’s eyeballs twitched for a second, a flash of tar-black darkness before fading back to normal. Aveloria’s breath caught.

"Father?" she whispered.

He didn’t answer. His tone grew harsher. "You bring a rogue into the heart of Lycanthria, then defend him when our men are slaughtered. Tell me, what am I supposed to believe?"

"That he’s not our enemy," she said firmly. "You’ve met him before. You know his kind, they fight for survival, not destruction."

"Enough!" The sound of his voice echoed off the walls.

Aveloria swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She had never heard him yell at her like that before.

Alaric leaned on the desk, his eyes filled with fury and something else. Something unfamiliar.

"From this moment," he said, his voice cold, "you are forbidden to leave the palace grounds. Until I say otherwise."

Her lips parted in shock. "What? You can’t have me grounded, Father."

"I can and I have." He seethed his teeth. "Guards!" He called out, and two came rushing into the room. "See that she remains within her chambers. No one enters, and she doesn’t leave without my command."

Two guards stepped forward immediately.

"Father, please," she said, rising to her feet. "You don’t understand. You’re making a mistake. Lucien isn’t—"

"Do not speak that name again in my presence!"

Her chest tightened painfully. "You’re letting someone poison your mind. This isn’t you."

The King’s jaw tightened. "Take her away."

The guards moved to her side.

She tried one last time. "Father, please, look at me!"

He looked at her, and again, for a brief second, she saw it, his pupils turned black, like a shadow moving beneath the surface.

She froze. Then it was gone.

"Escort her to her chambers," he said flatly.

The guards took her arms gently but firmly. She didn’t resist. There was no point. She could tell from the stiffness in his tone that whatever had just happened, he wasn’t entirely in control of himself.

As she was led out of the hall, her mind reeled. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her father would never speak to her like that, not unless someone had tampered with his thoughts.

The memory of Eirene’s words on the night of the feast replayed in her mind’s eyes. Aveloria clenched her fists.

When they reached her chambers, the guards stood at the door. "We’re sorry, Heiress," one of them said quietly.

She shook her head. "You’re only following orders."

They locked the doors behind her.

Aveloria stood in the middle of the room, trembling.

Her father’s eyes. The sudden rage. The cold tone. It all pointed to something dark. Lucien’s words from the letter echoed in her head.

"Don’t trust anyone until you know who serves whom."

Her breathing slowed. Now she understood. Whatever was happening wasn’t just about politics or scandal. Someone inside the palace was controlling her father with something more powerful than mere words, and she had a good idea who was behind it.

Eirene.

Aveloria sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the door. She knew she couldn’t stay locked up for long.

If the Wanderers were moving again, and a witch truly was within the palace walls, then time was running out. And if her father remained under whatever spell had been cast on him, then she was running out of allies, too.

For the first time since her rebirth, Aveloria felt the sharp sting of helplessness, not because she was weak, but because the person she loved most in the world no longer saw her as his daughter.

And she didn’t know how to get him back.