The book was good—well, as good as any book when you need an escape from reality, though I couldn’t exactly say the plot was groundbreaking. It wasn’t the content that kept hooked—it was the simplicity of it. The drama, the romance, the terribly written hero with his laughable declarations of love—it was predictable. And predictability, as it turned out, was a luxury I rarely got to enjoy.
Thalion was stretched out on the foot of the bed, his fluffy tail flicking every so often in response to Namarie’s content purring beside . The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room, and for a fleeting mont, I allowed myself to pretend this was normal. Cozy, even.
And then the knock ca.
It wasn’t loud, nor was it timid. It was deliberate. Calculated. The kind of knock that carried the weight of soone who knew they were interrupting but didn’t care.
I groaned, snapping the book shut with a bit more force than necessary. "Co in!" I called, already regretting it.
The door creaked open, and there stood Sabastine. His tall, ever-composed figure filled the doorway, and for a mont, I wondered if I had sohow summoned him by thinking about the word "predictable."
But then he did sothing entirely unpredictable.
He bowed.
My mouth fell open as I stared at him like he had suddenly grown a second head. "What... what do you think you are doing?"
Sabastine straightened, his face unreadable, though there was sothing almost... strained in his usually calm deanor. "Pardon , my lady, but I need your help," he said simply, like those words weren’t the equivalent of a teor crashing into my tiny, fragile sense of peace.
"You need my help?" I repeated, the disbelief dripping from my voice.
"Yes, my lady."
I set the book aside and swung my legs off the bed, narrowing my eyes at him. "Okay, let’s unpack that. First of all, you bowed to , Sabastine. Second, you—of all people—is asking for help? . The person whose life you people have turned into a never-ending nightmare?"
Sabastine’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral. "Yes," he said again, as if the word itself pained him.
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but none ca.
"What could you possibly need my help with?" I asked, crossing my arms.
He hesitated, just for a second, and that was enough to set off alarm bells. Sabastine didn’t hesitate. Ever.
"It’s his Majesty," he said finally, his words asured.
My stomach dropped, but I kept my expression carefully neutral. "What about him?"
"He has once again challenged the goddess," Sabastine said, his voice heavy with frustration. "And... well, it didn’t exactly go as planned."
I swallowed hard, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic ss. ’The Lycan King has once again challenged the goddess.’ The words echoed in my mind, heavy with implication. It ant it wasn’t the first ti—far from it. My pulse quickened as a chill crept down my spine. Could it be true? Could the whispered tales I had heard back in Sy, the ones I had dismissed as exaggerated gossip, actually hold so weight?
I blinked, trying my best to act unfazed. "What do you an by that?"
"He is gravely injured," Sabastine admitted, his gaze flickering to the floor before eting mine again. "And he refuses to let anyone into his bedchamber to tend to him."
I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. "And you think he would let in?"
"Yes."
The certainty in his voice was jarring, and for a mont, I forgot how to breathe.
I shook my head again, this ti more vehently. "No. Absolutely not. You’ve got the wrong person, Sabastine. If he’s refusing to see anyone, why would he make an exception for ?"
"Because," Sabastine said, his jaw tightening as though the words physically hurt, "he holds you in high regard."
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t a joyful laugh—it was bitter, borderline hysterical. "High regard?" I echoed, folding my arms. "The man who has made it his life’s mission to make my existence a living hell holds in high regard? Are you hearing yourself?"
Sabastine’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. "You are the only one he might tolerate in his current state," he said evenly.
"Might being the keyword," I muttered.
He didn’t deny it.
I stared at him, searching his face for any sign that this was so cruel joke, but Sabastine was as unreadable as ever.
"You’re serious," I said finally.
"Deadly serious, My lady."
I let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down my face. "You realize how insane this sounds, right? This is a terrible idea. The worst idea."
"Yes," Sabastine agreed without hesitation.
"And yet you’re still asking to do it?"
"Yes, My lady."
I groaned, glancing at Namarie and Xylara as if they might have so sage advice to offer. Xylara just yawned, and Namarie blinked at lazily. Traitors.
"What makes you think he won’t just throw out—or worse?" I asked, throwing my hands in the air.
Sabastine’s gaze hardened. "Because he hasn’t already."
That shut up.
For a long mont, neither of us spoke. The only sound was Xylara’s soft purring and the faint crackle of the fireplace.
Finally, I heaved out a sigh. "Fine! I’ll do it."
Sabastine’s lips twitched, as he lowered his bow. "Thank you, my lady."
He turned to leave, but sothing made call after him.
"Sabastine?"
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
I shook my head. "Never mind."
He hesitated for a mont. But then he said, "His majesty truly holds you in high regard, my lady."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and before I could respond, he was already leading the way out of my bedchamber, leaving alone with my racing thoughts and the three indifferent cats who clearly couldn’t care less about my impending doom.
I sighed, glancing at the fire. Whatever awaited in that bedchamber, one thing was clear—I was about to step into a whole world of trouble. Again.
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