Wife for the Wolf-Shifter (BL Novel)

The Past That Is Never Too Far

Chapter 10: The Past That Is Never Too Far

Sorry everyone, this one took longer than I had intended but I made it longer to make up for it. Please continue to show me your love and support! It's so great to hear feedback and I welcome back awesome readers who stuck with me even with mt bad updating cycle. After this update I am off to catch a plane and won't be back until late Monday so don't expect an undate this weekend even though I usually like to update during the weekends. I will try extra hard to update by Tuesday night but no promises it could be Wednesday too. Enjoy!

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            Dusk was beginning to set in Cavinglen. The color of auburn and gold beautifully paint across the horizon. Normally by dusk most families have settled down already, happy for the peace brought by the darkness. However, today was an unusual scene in Cavinglen as merchant vendors stayed open long into the night. Treats of both savory and sweet was being sold by street vendors. All inns in Cavinglen spare not an empty room. Both citizens of Cavinglen and foreigners heavily crowd the beautifully lantern lit streets enjoying the festive.

Fall has brought a bountiful harvest in Cavinglen. Most of Cavinglen have finally settled down after the new seeds have been sowed for the next cycle. Adults indulge in a hard earn rest, lazing around in groups, either gossiping or gambling for fun. The elderly would sit off to the sides, chatting among themselves. The topic was always about the recent past year, a year that yet again left another wrinkle upon their face. However, their attentive eyes were never too far from the young children playing rowdily close to the busy street.

            The young men however, were different. Their mind did not hunger making social conversation nor did their body ache for a rest. Yet strangely, they also did not mingle with others in the streets, brothels or wine house. This year, many of the boys had earned the right to their sword, marking to show that they had left their childhood behind them. Instead, they were eager to make a name and family of their own. The desire seems to gleam extra radiantly in their eyes today. In their heart they knew today was special, it was also the reason why Cavinglen was heavily saturated with foreigners. Tonight was a full moon.  

            Most of the foreigners parading in the streets were dressed in their finest silk. For the past week, caravans of noble families from across the eleven Kingdoms had steadily entered Cavinglen’s capital city Wolves Den. The normally impenetrable highly secured Cavinglen have finally opened its gates. Royal invitations have been sent out for the crowning of the long awaited Hsivana, finally ending the drought of the empty seat next to the powerful Hsiva. Many were curious.

            No one paid any attention to the four foreigners standing off to a corner. Merchants only usher in the naïve well dressed foreigners; the four however were plainly dressed with no noble family emblem on their clothing. For them who had stealthily entered Cavinglen had not expected the festive within the city. A man similarly dressed enters their group, saluting the older man.

            “It does not look good, your grace.” The duke of Crowingale frown, not please with the report. The man did not let the expression stop him from reporting his findings. “The locals are celebrating the enthronement of a new Hsivana. They call today the Marking Moon.”

            “Marking Moon?” The duke of Crowingale has lived for many years but the name was unfamiliar to him.

            “Your grace, the locals claim that today the Hsiva will mark the Hisvana and then…” The man pauses for a moment, wondering if he should not finish sparing the older man.

            “What happens?” The reporting man mouth twitch fleetly, he could not refuse his duke’s order.

            “In life or death, they cannot be separated.” The dread on the group’s face increase at a hundred folds upon hearing the news. The duke of Crowingale was barely able to control his calm composure. One of his men quickly proposes a plan to retake the second prince before the ceremony.