Sybil’s POV
The echo of Sybil’s footsteps resonated through the corridor as she walked toward her chambers, irritation burning through her veins like acid.
Caspian had shut her out.
Once more.
She had anticipated some pushback—Caspian rarely engaged in meaningless chatter—but his casual dismissal stung deeper than she cared to admit.
The ease with which he had cut their conversation short left bitterness coating her tongue.
All she had wanted were explanations, some thread of logic to understand his decision to bind himself to that woman.
Instead, he had cast her aside as though she were nothing more than a nuisance.
Her chest tightened as she drew in a measured breath, forcing her expression into careful neutrality.
Recently, every attempt to understand Caspian felt like chasing smoke.
His actions had become increasingly unpredictable, and uncertainty gnawed at her patience like a persistent ache.
Years of loyalty had bound her to him.
She had sacrificed, supported, and believed in everything he represented.
Yet now he was shutting her out completely?
A figure standing beside her door interrupted her brooding thoughts.
The servant immediately straightened her spine and lowered her head respectfully.
“Miss Sinclair.”
Sybil paused several paces away, her acknowledgment barely more than a glance.
“Your father awaits inside,” the woman explained, wariness threading through her tone.
“He arrived more than five minutes ago.”
A cold knot formed in Sybil’s stomach.
Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly at her sides.
Naturally.
Why had she expected otherwise?
She pressed her eyelids closed briefly, drawing air into her lungs before releasing it in a deliberate, measured stream.
When she opened her eyes again, every trace of annoyance had been carefully erased from her features.
A polite smile graced her lips as she nodded once.
The servant pushed open the door and stepped back with deference.
Sybil entered, her spine rigid and her expression perfectly composed.
Warrick Sinclair occupied the lone chair positioned near the hearth.
His legs were folded, his hands clasped over one knee.
The dancing flames cast harsh angles across his already stern countenance.
His cold stare found her immediately upon her entrance.
His tone carried a sharp edge.
“You certainly took your time.”
Though her smile remained fixed in place, Sybil’s teeth pressed together behind her lips.
“I was unaware you were waiting, Father.” She inclined her head with practiced respect before moving deeper into the room.
Silence stretched between them like a taut wire.
Without warning, Warrick spoke.
“Can you explain why Caspian selected that worthless nobody as his bride?
What possessed him to bring shame upon himself, his bloodline, and all of our people by choosing her?”
Sybil allowed a heartbeat to pass as she weighed her response carefully.
Warrick shifted forward, his penetrating gaze locked on her face.
“I need you to probe deeper.
Discover his motivations and bring me answers.”
Sybil’s pause was almost imperceptible.
“Caspian keeps his thoughts closely guarded.”
Warrick’s features hardened like stone.
“Then discover a method to break through his defenses.”
The condescending tone made her blood simmer, as if her years of dedication meant absolutely nothing.
Still, she maintained her composure with iron will.
Warrick settled back into his chair, studying her with calculating eyes.
“Does he harbor feelings for her?” The question came after a long moment.
“I witnessed his protection of her during the feast.
He refrained from punishment even after she brought him humiliation before the Council.
Has he developed an attachment?”
A harsh laugh nearly escaped Sybil’s throat, but she swallowed it down.
“Absolutely not,” she declared with conviction.
“I understand Caspian completely.
He would never develop feelings for someone of her station.
A cursed woman without a wolf?
She falls far below his standards.
He would never lower himself for something as trivial as affection.”
Warrick’s eyebrow arched upward.
“Then explain why he didn’t choose you as his mate?”
The question struck Sybil like a physical blow.
Her mouth opened slightly, but words failed to come.
She possessed every quality expected of a powerful Luna.
She had remained at Caspian’s side through countless challenges, supporting his decisions and sharing his burdens.
She had abandoned her own pack, sacrificing everything for him.
Yet he had rejected her.
The truth burned like poison in her veins, but she refused to crumble.
Too much had been invested, too many sacrifices made, to show vulnerability now.
“I cannot say,” she confessed eventually, despising each word as it left her lips.
“Caspian follows his own logic.
He rarely shares his reasoning.”
Warrick’s expression grew thunderous.
“You have spent years in his inner circle, yet you remain ignorant of his thoughts?” His voice climbed higher, frustration bleeding through.
“Are you completely useless to me?”
Sybil instinctively retreated a step.
Despite her confidence in political maneuvering and strategic thinking, her father’s rage remained a force she could not control.
Her hands clenched into fists, fingernails biting into her palms.
Warrick rose from his seat with deliberate precision.
His imposing frame commanded the space, every movement calculated and threatening.
Sybil recognized the fury building beneath his controlled exterior.
“If you cannot penetrate the mind of a man you have served for years,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, “then you are squandering my investment.
You become no more valuable than that defective creature he married.”
Pain lanced through Sybil’s chest.
The insult cut deep, but defying her father remained impossible.
Her gaze dropped to the floor as she forced all emotion from her expression.
“Forgive me, Father.” Her voice stayed level despite the turmoil within.
Warrick examined her for several tense seconds before exhaling sharply through his nose.
“Ensure you uncover his reasons for this marriage.”
“Understood.”
He remained standing for a moment longer, his sharp eyes evaluating her response.
Then he returned to his chair with the same abrupt movement.
The oppressive atmosphere lingered, refusing to dissipate.
After a brief interlude, he changed direction.
“When do you depart for Rainwood?”
“Within two days,” Sybil replied.
Warrick made a sound of acknowledgment.
Then his expression shifted, interest sparking in his gaze.
“I understand there has been another death.”
Sybil confirmed with a nod.
“Correct.
The perpetrator remains unknown.”
Warrick leaned closer.
“Caspian has discovered nothing?”
“Nothing substantial,” she admitted.
“Each investigation reaches the same conclusion.
The evidence is insufficient to identify our enemy.”
Quiet settled over the room.
Finally, Warrick broke the silence.
“Inform me when he finds the truth…
or preferably before.”
Sybil nodded once more.
“I will.”
Warrick sank deeper into his chair, apparently lost in contemplation.
Sybil, however, was already constructing her strategy.
She would unearth Caspian’s motivation for choosing Talia.
She would crack his defenses, even if it meant extracting his secrets through manipulation and cunning.
When the opportunity presented itself, she would prove that she alone deserved to rule beside him.