bChapter /bb170 /b

    bra’s /bbPOV /b

    bI /bbstood /bbthere/b, blinking, stunned by the words that just tumbled out of the servant’s mouth. “The Lycan?” I repeated, trying to grasp the babsurdity /bof it.

    He didn’t seem to notice the disbelief stered on my face. “You don’t believe me,” he snorted, his tone almost mocking.

    “No, I don’t,” I said tly. “Because—well, the Lycan’s nothing but a myth.”

    thad grown up hearing stories–fairytales about Lycans, about creatures more powerful, more ruthless than any man. in every story, they were just that: stories. Nothing more than folklore, spun by old bards to keep children from wandering the woods at night. But now this servant was telling me that the Lycan was real… and here, at Lance’s wedding, no less.

    I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

    The servant, clearly not bothered by my skepticism, shrugged. “It may be a myth to you, but not to us. The Lycan’s ibeen /iwatching over us for years.”

    “Watching over?” Iughed, incredulous. “Like some sort of god?”

    He stared at me, expression serious. “Yes. A god. Or a guardian, if that fits better.”

    “Are you serious? I shook my head,pletely thrown. “The rogues, the ones who never bow to anyone, let themselves be ruled by a… god?”

    He paused, his gaze darting to the gate, where a group of guests had gathered. “Because… you have no idea how powerful the Lycan is. They’re the first werewolves–created by the Moon Goddess. Their powers are ancient. Even their wolf form is different from ours.”

    Intrigued now, I leaned in. “Different how?b” /b

    But the servant didn’t answer. His eyes remained locked on the entrance.

    I followed his gaze, curiosity bubbling up in my chest. That’s when I saw him. Sir Alden.

    Tall. Dark. Handsome. His raven–ck hair caught the light, framing his aristocratic face. High cheekbones, a jawline sharp enough to cut ss. His eyes–deep, endless pools of midnight that could pull anyone into their depths–were locked on Lance.

    I couldn’t help but stare. He was magnificent, but was he really the Lycan? I’d never seen a Lycan, but something about him felt… different. He stood with Lance, engaging in a heated conversation, but my attention wasn’t on their words. It was all on him.

    Mi, standing nearby, had no such luxury. Her eyes narrowed, fists clenched at her sides. The spotlight had been stolen–not by Kimberly this time, but by this stranger. Her moment was slipping through her fingers, and I could feel the heat of her fury from across the room.

    She stepped forward, fury practically radiating off of her. “Is this my wedding cake?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the air.

    The maids froze, exchanging uncertain nces before bowing their heads. “Yes, My Queen,” they stammered.

    Mi’s gaze hardened as she took in the cake, her lip curling. “It’s hideous.i” /iShe hissed. “Who’s responsible for this monstrosity? I want the pastry chef punished.”

    The maids looked like they were about to crumble under the weight of her anger, not sure how to react.

    I bcould /bsee the chaos unfolding, but I wasn’t about to let Mi have all the attention. As I made my way over to the sceneb, /bone of the maids

    b1/4 /b

    bblurted /bbout/b, “bIt /bbwas /bbher/b! bShe made /bbit /bbwith /bbour /bbheadmaid/bb!/bb” /bbShe /bbpointed /bbdirectly /bbat /bmeb. /bb“/bbPlease/bb, /bbpunish /bbher /bbinstead/bb!/bb” /b

    bMi’s /bbeyes /bflicked bto /bbme/bb, /bher bvoice /bdripping with venom. “You made this?” she spat.

    bI /bbnarrowed /bbmy /bbeyes/b. “bI /bhelped a little. What’s wrong with it?”

    bShe /bsneered, her voice thick with disgust. “It’s tacky. Roses and lilies? Are you kidding me?”

    bMy /bpatience, already thin, was wearing even thinner. “It’s just a cake.”

    “Nob,/bb” /bshe snarled, “it’s an eyesore. Get it out of here. Now.”

    Every part of me wanted tosh out. This cake–this hideous cake–was my n. My gorgeous n.

    I steadied my breath, trying to hold my ground. “If you want a wedding cake, you’ll have to keep this one.”

    Mi’s eyes burned with fury. “Are you implying that I have bad taste?”

    I rolled my eyes internally. It was exactly what I meant, but I wasn’t about to fuel her rage even more. “We spent days on this cake. If you say no, you won’t have a wedding cake at all.”

    She sneered at me, her nostrils ring. “So you’re telling me there’s no backup? Fine. Fix this. Ten minutes.”

    The words hit like a p to my face, but I swallowed my anger. For now. The rage inside me boiled, wishing I could simply p her face into

    the cake.

    Just then, a deep voice interrupted my thoughts.

    “What’s going on here?” It was Thorne.

    I hadn’t noticed him before, but now, his presence was undeniable. Mi flinched at the sight of him–afraid of him, no doubt. But I saw her calction. Maybe this time, Thorne would side with her.

    She didn’t hesitate. “I was just telling ra that her cake is hideous, and I deserve something better.”

    Thorne nced at the cake. He barely looked at it for more than a second before turning back to Mi, dismissing her. “I didn’t see anything wrong with it.”

    Mi’s eyes widened. “Are you taking her side again?” she demanded, fury seeping into her tone. “After everything she’s done to you?”

    Thorne’s face darkened. He exhaled, his voice low and icy. “Go. Lance is asking for you.”

    “But-”

    “Stop making a fuss.” Thorne’s voice became amand. “You’ve already been used of being too extravagant. Don’t make it worse.”

    Mi’s lips pressed together in a thin line, unwilling to relent. She shot me onest look–full of contempt–before storming off.

    I nced at Thorne, his back still turned toward me, and felt the weight of his stare even before he spoke again.

    b“/bThere’s something wrong with the cake, isn’t there?i” /iHis voice was sharp, direct.

    I froze. His words cut through the air like a de, and I felt my panic rise. But I forced a calm expression on my face. “What are you talking

    about?”

    Thorne took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “I’m not dumb, ra. A tenyer cake like that… it takes at least four men to move it.”

    bHe /bbtilted /bbhis /bbhead /bbslightly/bb. /bb“/bbTwo /bbmaids /bcarried it in bby /bthemselves. The cake’s hollowb, /bbisn’t /bbit/bb?/bb” /b

    His bwords /bbhung /bbin /bthe air, and I could feel the tension snap between us.

    bI /bbkept /bbmy /bbvoice /bsteady. “What’s your point?”

    He btook /ba breath, leaning in closer. His hot breath brushed against my ear as he whispered, “What’s hiding in the cake?”

    I stood frozen. My mind screamed at me to hide my fear, but I knew Thorne was far too perceptive. He could see through everything.

    I straightened, my voice hardening. “What do you want?”

    Thorne’s eyes shed with something unreadable, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted the conversation back ito /ithe moment. “I don’t mind you sabotaging her wedding.”

    The sarcasm in my voice cut through the air. “Oh, so now you’re on my side?”

    Thorne gave a soft, darkugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

    I raised an eyebrow. “I won’t.”

    But then his voice dropped, rougher than before. “I’m sorry about that night. About everything.”

    His apology–too little, toote–struck me like a p. I turned to face him, fury igniting inside me.

    “You think a simple ‘sorry‘ will fix what you did? You put me through hell, Thorne!” My voice cracked with the emotion of the moment, raw and unfiltered.

    Thorne’s face twisted in frustration. “I let jealousy cloud my mind… I was angry-”

    “Angry?!” I snapped, the rage boiling over. “You punished me for moving on with a decent guy! You have no right!”

    His jaw clenched as he grabbed my wrist, his grip firm. “You’re mine,” he growled.

    I recoiled, trying to yank my wrist free. “No, Thorne. Not anymore. I’ve had enough of you.”

    His eyes flickered with something dark, but before he could say anything else, a voice broke through.

    “Your wedding cake is gorgeous, Queen Mi.”

    We both turned. Sir Alden stood a few feet away, his gaze flicking briefly to me before returning to Mi.

    Mi, ttered, beamed. “Thank you, Sir Alden.”

    Sir Alden’s smile was cool, enigmatic. “I can’t wait to try it.”

    Lance, standing beside him, nudged Mi. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go ahead. Cut the cake.”

    Mi, eager to please, rushed to grab the knife.

    And in that moment, I saw something flicker in Sir Alden’s eyes. A brief, cryptic nced.

    I frowned. What was going on here?

    The air around us felt charged. And as Mi cut into the cake, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen… something big.

    b3/4 /b