Chapter 60
The other scoffed. "The blame lies with the late king. He forced Rowan to marry that exiled Carstairs daughter. She was never fit to be queen, and everyone knows it."
My heart skipped a beat as I pieced together their words. They were talking about Isabelle.
"Her family was exiled for a reason, they had betrayed the crown. Sure there must be a it's on them. Besides, she doesn't have the strength or the bloodline to stand by his side," the first one continued. "The clans won't fully support him until he has an heir. That is the only way to secure his position."
"And what if he doesn't? What if that so called Queen Isabelle can't give him an heir?"
The first wolf's expression darkened. "Then it won't be long before his brother challenges him. Without an heir, the throne isn't secure. I heard Prince Lucian is preparing to get married. It's still a rumor but I believe it to be true. He is looking for a bride."
I felt a cold chill run down my spine. The politics of the wolf clans were even more volatile than I'd imagined. And Rowan—despite his power and authority—wasn't as untouchable as he seemed.
As much as I despised Isabelle, the werewolves' disdain for her sent a wave of unease through me. She might have been my enemy, but their hatred for her was something else entirely. It wasn't just personal; it was political, and it put Rowan's reign at risk.
I slipped away from the stall before they could notice me listening, my mind racing with everything I'd overheard. This was important—more important than anything Lucian or Isabelle had said to me. If the wolf clans were desperate for an heir, that desperation could be used to my advantage.
But how?
I returned to the castle as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the grounds. My thoughts swirled with plans and possibilities, but one question lingered above all the rest.
Was I really ready to use Rowan in my quest for revenge? Or had my heart already betrayed me?
.........
The castle hummed with restless energy as the wedding day loomed closer. It was two days to my wedding with Prince Lucian and time was running out. Staff bustled through the halls, carrying silks, flowers, and trays of delicacies for the grand event. The air was thick with excitement, but in my chest, a storm brewed.
I stood by the window of my chambers, watching the preparations below with a bitter taste in my mouth. It felt like a countdown to the end of my freedom. I couldn't let this happen, not so fast. If Lucian thought I would go quietly into this marriage, he was sorely mistaken.
But the walls were closing in. Rowan's pull on my heart confused me, and the urgency from Kaelin's letter weighed heavily on my mind. I needed a way out, something to stop this wedding before it began.
A soft knock on my door interrupted my spiraling thoughts.
"Come in," I called.
Milla stepped in, carrying a small box filled with jewels. "These are for you, my lady. Prince Lucian sent them for you to wear at the wedding."
My lips twisted into a bitter smile. Lucian and his gifts. Always trying to smother me in finery, as if that could dull the sharp edge of my hatred. Or my unwillingness to be his bride.
"Thank you, Milla. You can set them down there," I said, motioning to the table.
As she placed the box down, an idea began to form in my mind. It was dangerous, reckless even, but it might be my only chance.
"Milla," I said, keeping my tone casual, "I've heard whispers about Prince Lucian's first wife. What was her name again? Delilah?"
Milla hesitated, glancing at me warily. "Yes, my lady. Lady Delilah, formerly Princess Delilah. But when she lost the Prince she lost her title too."
"What happened to her?" I asked, feigning mild curiosity. "It must be strange, the prince remarrying after her, I can't help but wonder how she is."
Milla bit her lip, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her apron. "It's... not something we speak of often, my lady. Lady Delilah...well as you know, she went mad after the Prince severed the mating bond. She was never the same again. She has fully gone mad."
"Mad?" I asked, tilting my head.
She nodded, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Yes. They say the heartbreak drove her to it. You know severing the mating bond isn't easy. Most people die from the pain. She's been hidden away ever since, far from the court."
I stepped closer, my heart racing with the possibilities. "Hidden where?"
Milla looked uneasy. "Why do you ask, my lady?"
I gave her my most convincing smile. "I'm curious, that's all. It must be such a tragic story. A woman driven mad by love. And now with my wedding coming up and all I want to be sure that I am safe. That she wouldn't try anything."
Milla hesitated again, but eventually, her loyalty to me won out. "Oh don't worry about that Lady Arin. She stays in a manor on the outskirts of the capital, it's far enough from the castle and she isn't allowed here. They say she roams the streets aimlessly once in a while but she doesn't really leave the manor."
I could remember the incident where she had attacked me for killing her son in the streets, it was still fresh in my head.
"Of course," I said, nodding solemnly. "Thank you, Milla. You can go now."
She curtsied and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Dangerous. Mad. Hidden away.
Delilah was perfect. The perfect fuse for a fire.
I paced the room, my mind racing with plans. Delilah was the only one who could bring ruin to the wedding, since Kaelin had not replied to my letter yet. If I could bring her to the castle—on the wedding and make her wreak havoc, it could stall the event, at least for a few days.
But I had to be careful. If anyone found out what I was planning, it would be the end of me.
I went to my writing desk, pulling out a scrap of parchment. Scribbling a quick note to myself about the manor's location, I folded it and tucked it into the hidden pocket of my cloak. I would need to visit the place myself, to see if Delilah could be of any use.
For now, I had to act as if nothing was amiss. But deep down, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could stop this wedding before it ruined all of my plans.
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