Evryn had never understood power until she stood inside it.
The palace did not shout its authority.
It carried it quietly, like something ancient that did not need to prove itself.
As Auren walked beside her through the high corridors, she began to see what she had refused to imagine before.
Guards bowed deeply as he passed, their eyes lowering instantly, yet she noticed how they followed him the moment his back turned.
Servants stepped aside without hesitation, their conversations fading into silence until he moved beyond them.
Even the air felt arranged around him.
He did not look at them.
He did not slow.
He walked as someone who had always belonged here.
And she remembered the kitchen.
The heavy buckets.
The crates he carried without complaint.
The way he stood quietly while she ordered him to wake before dawn.
Her chest tightened.
He had adapted to her world.
He had lowered himself beneath her voice, beneath her tone, beneath her careless commands.
She had spoken sharply to him more than once.
She had mocked him.
Tested him.
Pushed him.
The spell had bound him, but she had made the weight heavier.
Auren glanced at her then, and something in her expression must have betrayed her thoughts.
Without a word, he reached for her hand and held it firmly, grounding her before her guilt could grow too loud.
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
He guided her away from the main corridors, past a guarded archway no one else approached.
The guards stepped aside immediately, lowering their heads without question.
A tall iron gate stood beyond, engraved with twisting vines and old symbols.
It opened at his presence alone.
“This is not the outer garden,” he said calmly.
They stepped inside.
The space that unfolded before her stole her breath.
It was vast yet hidden within high stone walls covered in climbing ivy.
Trees arched overhead, their branches woven together to filter the sunlight into soft silver beams.
Flowers bloomed in rare colors she had only read about in old texts.
Deep violets.
Midnight blues.
Petals that shimmered like frost though the air was warm.
The scent was layered and alive, rich without overwhelming, carrying notes of herbs, blossoms, and damp earth.
Her body reacted before her mind did.
She stepped forward slowly at first, then faster, her fingers brushing leaves, inhaling deeply, turning in place as if afraid the vision would disappear.
She laughed softly, breathless.
“I want to die here,” she murmured.
Then, without thinking, she let herself fall backward into a bed of thick, soft grass between the flowers.
Her arms spread wide, her hair fanning around her.
The sky above was broken by branches and filtered light, and the scent wrapped around her like a promise.
Auren watched her from where he stood.
He did not interrupt her joy.
He had half expected hesitation.
Fear.
Discomfort in a place so different from her own.
Instead, she belonged.
He stepped closer and stopped just above her, his shadow falling lightly across her face.
She looked up at him, and for a moment he saw not the sharp woman from the kitchen, not the guarded one from the rain, but something lighter.
She smiled.
“Tell your assistant to take her time,” she said softly.
“Please.”
He laughed quietly, the sound warmer than the garden air.
“I can tell how much you loved the place.” he said.
Auren did not let her remain in the garden too long.
When her excitement settled into softer wonder, he offered her his hand again and led her back toward the palace, through corridors that grew quieter the deeper they went.
This wing felt more private, less touched by-passing servants and formal movement.
The guards stationed here bowed even lower, and none dared to lift their gaze.
He stopped before tall double doors; They opened inward without a sound.
“This will be yours,” he said.
The room beyond was large, but not cold.
Soft light entered through high arched windows.
Pale curtains framed the walls, and the bed stood wide and carefully prepared.
A balcony overlooked part of the inner gardens, and shelves stood ready, empty, waiting to be filled.
It was not excessive.
“The room is beautiful.” and she asked quietly.
” I like it, what about yours?”
He gestured toward a second door just across the corridor.
“Close enough.”
Before she could answer, Asric entered the corridor with his usual ease, His eyes moved first to Auren, then to Evryn.
For a brief second, surprise crossed his face before it smoothed into charm.
“Welcome back, my lord” he bowed then stepping forward and took Evryn’s hand gently and bowed, pressing a polite kiss to her knuckles just as he had the first time they met.
Evryn watched him carefully.
“I believe a proper introduction is in order,” she said softly glancing at Auren.
Auren’s gaze did not leave Asric.
“Asric,” he replied evenly.
“Is my cousin.
More like a brother…and the higher commander”
Asric smiled faintly at that description, but his eyes shifted back to Evryn.
He held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, testing.
And found nothing.
He felt it clearly now.
The same wall he had sensed before.
He could not read her.
, the silence was unsettling.
Especially now, when she was standing close enough, he could feel her eyes looking through him.
Evryn studied him openly in return.
She noticed how easily he smiled, how lightly he carried himself despite the weight of the place.
He was not sharp like Auren.
Not still.
Not distant.
His warmth was visible, almost inviting.
But something in it felt measured.
There were two possibilities, she thought.
Either he was genuinely kind and at ease in his role…
or he had mastered the art of appearing so.
Her gaze shifted briefly to Auren.
With him, certainty was clear.
What he felt showed, even when he tried to contain it.
His control was strength, not disguise.
Asric, however, felt layered.
He tilted his head slightly, as if sensing her silent assessment.
“I hope the palace suits you,” he said smoothly.
“It does, thank you.” she answered simply.
“You should rest,” Auren said, his voice softer “The guards outside are there for you.
If you need anything…
just order it.”
“Thank you, Auren,” she said softly.
Auren turned and stepped out of the room, Asric fell into step at his side the moment they entered the corridor.
The heavy door closed with a controlled click behind him.
They walked in silence for several strides, boots echoing against polished stone.
“You failed to read her mind, didn’t you?” Auren asked at last, his voice low.
Asric glanced at him sideways.
“And you’re pleased about that.”
Auren didn’t deny it.
The faintest curve touched his mouth.
“I was envy you for your power,” he admitted.
“But now…
I’m relieved.”
Asric’s expression sharpened, but he said nothing.
Auren’s face hardened, every flicker of emotion vanishing.
He was the King again.
“Prepare every report from the moment I left until now,” he commanded.
“I want everything on my desk.”
“Yes, my lord,” Asric replied, his voice professional.
Auren paused, his silver eyes narrowing.
He remembered that day “And the woman?
The one I sent through the gate?”
Asric’s lips curled into a slow, mischievous smile.
“I erased her memory and sent her back to the estate.
She left very happy and very satisfied.”
Auren stared at him, his gaze flat and unimpressed.
“Unbelievable.”
Asric stopped walking and turned to him, looking completely offended.
“What?
You sent a beautiful, naked woman wrapped in nothing but sheets to my bedroom.
I took that as a reward for my hard work.” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Auren exhaled, a long, tired breath that seemed to carry the weight of the entire day.
“Whatever,” Auren muttered, his voice dropping to a low, flat tone.
“The only thing that matters to me is that you erased her memory.”
The palace was blanketed in a heavy, deep night.
Inside the study, the world felt very small.
A few candles flickered on the desk, casting long shadows against the walls.
Stacks of paper were piled neatly, waiting for the King’s eyes.
Auren was already at work.
He did not rush.
He read every line, every word, and every name.
Across from him, Asric sat perfectly still.
Asric was a man who knew how to wait.
He didn’t speak; he just watched, ready for whatever Auren needed.
Auren moved through the reports one by one.
The Borders: Quiet.
The Trade: Moving smoothly.
The People: No fighting.
No trouble.
Everything was perfect.
It was almost too perfect.
Auren felt a strange tightness in his chest.
It wasn’t the magic bond this time; it was the feeling a soldier gets before an ambush.
The kingdom looked peaceful, but it felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.
Asric had done a great job.
While Auren was away, the kingdom hadn’t stumbled for even a second.
Finally, Auren set the last paper down.
“Everything is well,” he said.
His voice was flat.
“Just as you wanted, my lord,” Asric replied with a small, knowing smile.
Auren didn’t smile back.
He reached for a clean piece of paper and dipped his pen into the dark ink.
He wrote quickly and firmly.
When he was done, he folded the letter and pressed his royal seal into the hot, black wax.
The mark of the King was sharp and permanent.
He handed the letter to Asric.
“Send this to the Wolf King,” Auren commanded.
“Do it now.”
Asric took the letter.
He didn’t ask what it said or why Auren was contacting their enemy.
He simply bowed.
“As you wish.”
The door clicked shut, leaving Auren alone in the silence.
He remained seated long after Asric left, the sealed message already on its way through the night.
The study felt larger now.
Quieter.
The spell between him and Evryn was calm…steady, undisturbed.
No pain.
No sharp pull.
She was safe.
Resting, perhaps.
Or exploring the unfamiliar rooms with cautious steps.
He imagined her touching the carved furniture as if testing whether it was real, examining the fabrics, narrowing her eyes at unnecessary luxury.
He almost heard her voice…half skeptical, half curious.
He wanted to go to her.
To stand at her door under the excuse of checking on her.
To hear her speak, even if it was only to argue.
He wondered if her behavior would change now that she knew who he truly was.
Would she still look at him the same way?
Would she measure her words?
Would she stop teasing?
The thought unsettled him more than any political tension.
He preferred her sharp tongue.
Her unfiltered reactions.
He did not want reverence.
He dragged a hand slowly over his hair and exhaled, forcing himself to remain where he was.
She is fine, he told himself.
Give her space.
Even though he had grown used to being beside her constantly…hearing her footsteps, sensing her movements, feeling the small shifts in her mood through the bond…the distance now felt unnatural.
The room around him seemed dull without her presence.
For the first time that night, Auren felt something unfamiliar.
Emptiness.