Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Damon
The hairpin burned a hole in the corner of my desk.
It sat in the open, harmless in appearance–silver, slender, shaped like a crescent moon–but it may as well have been a dagger.
It wasn’t just a trinket. It was Natalie’s. I remembered the curve of it in her hair the night she died. And now I’d seen it again, gleaming in Elena’s braid the night we met.
I didn’t want to believe it was hers at first. But denial never served Kings.
I turned the pin over again, slowly, letting the weight of memory settle like sediment in my chest. I hadn’t touched that grief in years. And yet…
Why would Elena wear this?
And worse–how did she get it?
“Send her in,” I said, not looking up.
Ronan opened the door, and the servant girl shuffled in behind him. She was young–maybe sixteen–with trembling fingers clasped in front of her apron and eyes too wide.
“Sit,” I said. She nearly tripped doing
So.
I didn’t speak right away. Let the silence do the heavy lifting. Her hands clenched tighter. Good. Guilt tended to sweat when you left it room to breathe.
“Do you recognize this?” I finally asked, holding up the pin.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, my King.”
“Did you give it to Lady Elena?”
A pause. A heartbeat too long. “I–I did.”
I tilted my head. “Where did you get it?”
She swallowed. “There was a note. And gold. Left on my cot during shift change… no… no name or anything. But it had instructions to place the pin in her dressing kit and make sure she wore it.”
“You weren’t curious who sent it?” I asked.
“I–I was afraid to ask. It seemed harmless, like a gift or something. And the gold…”
Of course. Gold always softened spines.
I waved a hand. “You’re dismissed. Speak of this to no one.”
Ronan closed the door after her, lingering near the hearth.
I stood, crossing to the window. The gardens were painted in shadow and fading light. Somewhere down there, Elena might be walking–her head bowed, her scent still clinging to that intoxicating blend she’d made.
Not for me, she’d said. I didn’t quite believe her.
The memory of our last conversation in the outer gardens clawed at me. Her words had been sharp–raw and devastating in their honesty.
Chapter 48
“If you ever figure out what it means to be loved instead of obeyed… maybe then, you’ll be someone I could love.
It should’ve made me angry. Instead, it made me ache.
Because she wasn’t wrong. I didn’t know how to be loved anymore. I’d been raised to rule, to conquer, to survive. Affection was a weakness and could be ripped away or used to hurt. Manipulate.
But when she looked at me–really looked at me—I wanted to be different. I wanted to show her that the King might be seen as a tyrant, but as a man l was nothing like that. Not really.
But this? A planted hairpin? A ghost dredged up from the ashes of my past?
Someone was trying to twist the knife.
I turned to Ronan. “Trace the gold if you can. Quietly. Whoever sent that pin has access to things they shouldn’t.”
He nodded, already halfway out the door.
A knock sounded not long after. One of the royal pages stepped in, nervous as always. “You’ve been scheduled to the west reception chamber, Sire. An audience request was made under the seal of the Marro
Pack.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
I waved him off and straightened my coat.
Another Pack hoping for a council seat. Another wolf sniffing at the Crown. But my thoughts were still caught between silver hairpins and a sharp- tongued candidate who made me want to be better than I was.
When the time came, the receiving chamber was lit with mellow firelight, soft and warm, meant to make visiting Alphas feel like they were being seen but not scrutinized.
I’d met half a dozen council hopefuls in this room over the past month. All of them wore the same expression–deference gilded with hunger.
I expected another version of that as I stepped inside.
What I found instead was the bride candidate Vanessa.
She was alone and waiting. Seated, poised in a figure–hugging gown the color of aged wine, one foot extended in perfect posture as if she belonged here.
At her side stood a steward holding a tray with two crystal I glasses and a bottle of deep amber liquid I recognized instantly–Mirrwood Mead, rare and expensive. Imported from the southern coast, used for mating ceremonies and celebrations in old Pack rites.
She’d brought a mating wine.
My steps slowed as the door closed behind me.
“Your Majesty,” she said smoothly, rising from her seat with practiced elegance. “I hope I didn’t keep you from anything…urgent.”
I didn’t return the smile. “What is this?”
She blinked innocently. “A meeting. As requested.”
“I didn’t request it.”
“No,” she said, with a tilt of her head. “But someone requested
Something in my chest pulled tight.
on my behalf. Elena, actually. She thought you and I should… get to know one another.
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Chapter 48
Elena set this up?
I didn’t move and risk showing the jolt of betrayal that sparked beneath my ribs. But I felt it, blooming like rot under the surface.
“She thought,” Vanessa continued, stepping closer, “that you might benefit from hearing what I had to offer.”
“Did she.” It wasn’t a question.
She laughed, light and charming, all sharp teeth behind satin. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Sire. I know your time is valuable. But you deserve someone who understands the pressures of the Crown. Someone raised for this.” Her fingers trailed along the stem of the glass. “Someone who knows how power
works.”
“I don’t indulge during meetings,” I said flatly.
“Pity,” she said, pouring a glass anyway. “It’s a lovely vintage. I brought it from my family’s private cellar. A tribute, if you will.”
“I don’t take tributes either.”
That seemed to make her pause. Vanessa held the glass but didn’t sip it. The longer she stood there–perfect, curated, eager–the more my mood soured.
“What do you really want, Vanessa?”
She blinked at the sudden shift in my voice.
“I want what any reasonable woman in my position would want. To be considered.” Her gaze dropped briefly to the wine in her hand. “And to remind you that some of us weren’t handed favor. We built it. Earned it.”
“And what does this have to do with Elena?”
At that, her smile faltered for the briefest second. “Only that she clearly sees potential in me. Or at least… knows her limitations.”
I took a step closer, eyes locked on hers. “You’re not here because Elena believes in your potential. You’re here because you’re holding something over her head.”
Vanessa’s lashes fluttered. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t think,” I said, voice colder now. “I know when I’m being manipulated. And I’ve had enough of that this week.”
Vanessa didn’t flinch. “Elena asked me to speak with you. Maybe she knows you better than you realize.”
That stopped me–if only because it made no sense.
Was this Elena’s way of stepping back, protecting herself? Or had Vanessa backed her into a corner?
need answers. No more silence. No more games.
I turned sharply toward the door. “The meeting is over.”
“Shame,” Vanessa said behind me. “You really should try the wine.”
The moment the door shut behind me, I felt something shift. Not just suspicion–but fury. I needed to see Elena.
Because I was done being left in the dark.
