The Wicked Werewolf Prince

8. Norhall

[ELARA]

Everytime I close my eyes, the unblinking eyes and still face of Kayla haunts me. So I keep myself awake, despite the exhaustion I feel.

I woke up earlier — still in the arms of Magnus — but we weren't in the tent where he had tried to get me to sleep. We were in the carriage I was traveling in, surrounded by the same feather-filled pillows, lined by golden embroidery.

I curled up the moment my eyes opened, finding my neck and face covered in sweat. He held me closer for a moment, providing me with a strange sense of comfort I wasn't expecting from him. His golden eyes stared at my face as he moved the slick strands of my hair obstructing my gaze. I wondered if it was pity he felt for me. Maybe he was capable of that.

For a moment I thought he was not the cold, cruel man he tried to portray himself as with his sharp words at me. Perhaps I could find something soft in him after all. But then his gaze turned distant and he moved me from his lap, his finger digging into my shoulders.

"We aren't in Caelondor yet," was all he said before he left me alone in the soft darkness of the carriage. It was as though I was in the tent once again — horrified, helpless and miserable. But I couldn't crumble so I did not protest. Not a word left me and the curtains remained as they were — shielding me from the outside. I cried into the pillows before I tore them apart.

Someone whispers that we're now moving towards the heart of Caelondor, where the grand castle rises from the capital, Norhall. I know nothing about this place. I'm sure I'm not interested in knowing anything right now. But I draw the curtains, finally letting the inside of the carriage drown with sudden, blinding light. My eyes hurt, closing on their own. They're likely as huge as lemons right now, swollen from all the crying.

I open my eyes again, briefly taking in the busy town in the back shielded by a crowd of people, their eyes fixated on the procession. On me — a new member of the royal family. And I find pity on their faces. Intrigue too. And a little disgust.

I see what that is — their hatred of Magnus extended on me.

For a moment, I hope to see the figure of Alec, marching firmly right beside the carriage. But he's not there. He can't be.

Is he even alive? Instincts tell me he isn't. But even if he's alive...

He's rogue now. A rogue werewolf.

I've repeated it to myself over and over again ever since I had my head in Magnus' lap. But it's too devastating to really believe.

What's the point of even keeping him alive anymore? There's no coming back from that. And I know him enough to know he wouldn't want to live as a rogue.

You're not yourself. The very core of you changes. You don't feel emotions. Everyone else around you is just prey — someone you can attack. Even the ones you loved the most.

If it comes to that, I'll kill him myself. The thought brings out fresh tears in my eyes. But it has to be done. He's dead anyway. Magnus should know that.

I need to talk to Magnus.

Lila is quiet, too quiet. I can't bear it. But the mate bond finally getting destroyed validates her silence.

I feel helpless without her guidance. I don't know what I can do. What I should do.

Sucking in a breath, I draw the curtains once again. The busy town I'd glanced at earlier is gone now, replaced by a huge bricked wall lining the fortress that emerges in front of us. The floor is covered by pavestones. I lean out, despite the unapproving look a human knight shoots me.

A massive portcullis cut off the ground, the iron spikes spraying bits of soil. Beyond it lies the stone fortress. A castle. Enormous and regal.

I wonder how Alina would feel right now. She was always ambitious, I never missed that. But royalty was something neither of us ever even dreamt of becoming a part of.

The horses kick off, pulling the carriage inside. I drop the curtains without another thought, shutting the world outside.

Now that I'm here, I feel my feet getting cold and numb. What is expected of me?

Respect. Obedience.

Magnus' voice echoes in my mind.

I stay still, my hand over my chest. I want to sleep right here, and wake up back in Mistral Hollow. Only to find all this was a dream.

But it isn't. I'm living life as it is occurring. Alec, a rogue. Magnus, my husband. A prince. My pack, a thousand miles away from me.

I miss my father, I do. I feel restless. I don't want to be here.

Is this what being homesick feels like?

The curtains are drawn sharply, startling me. My heart picks up pace, but when I find Magnus looking at me, I exhale. I do my best to focus on our conversation at the feast. He's not cruel. He's alright. Not caring, but alright.

But then he reaches into the carriage, grabbing a hold of my arm, a little too tightly for me to feel comfortable. I gape at him, confused to see the harshness on his face. "Well, are you expecting a welcome?" he barks at me. "Get out!" And he yanks me towards the edge.

The insult hits me in the gut like a punch. We're in some room, the walls high and bright. But the maids standing behind Magnus have their heads down, their eyes staring at the floor.

They're not deaf though.

"What is wrong with you, Magnus?" I ask him, but my voice dies at the end, probably overcome by shock.

"I don't know what you're expecting from me," he continues, his voice now filled with anger and disgust. "But if you think I'm going to carry you out in my arms, you're stupid, Elara."

I stand on my feet, ready to slap him. But he simply turns behind and leaves, mumbling, "Don't expect a wedding night."