CHAPTER 355: NEXT PLAN

ADAM

The field was still buzzing long after the final blow was withheld. I sat there, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the place where Sage and Darius just stood, not fighting.

The dust had barely settled, and yet the world felt different. It wasn’t only because the fight had ended unexpectedly—it was because of her. Sage.

The priest’s words echoed faintly in the back of my mind, mingling with the doctor’s grim certainty.

She’s your mate, Your Highness.

My mate. The thought made my jaw tighten. No—there had to be some mistake. The Moon Goddess wouldn’t bind me to someone like her—wild, unpredictable, unreadable.

I’d seen her eyes, the way they glowed when she fought, the way she moved like something ancient and ageless. She wasn’t human. She wasn’t even just supernatural. She was... something else.

I rubbed the back of my neck, exhaling. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath. The sight of her replayed in my head—she bending down to retrieve something from Darius. Then that sudden jolt that ran through her, the way she stumbled back as if she’d touched fire.

Her face had changed, briefly. A flicker of confusion, recognition, maybe even fear. What had she seen?

And Darius—he’d looked at her like a man seeing a ghost. There had been a moment, brief but clear, when I’d thought he might fall to his knees. What had they talked about? What had passed between them while the rest of us waited, bewildered?

Too many questions. And I hated not having answers.

I straightened slowly, watching the crowd erupt into chatter and debate. The referee’s confusion had turned into awkward applause. Darius had declared her the victor himself, claiming she’d spared his life. The audience, of course, had eaten that up.

But it wasn’t enough for me.

I needed to know what lay beneath that calm smile of hers. What secret did Sage carry that made even Darius—our undefeated champion—submit?

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. There was only one way to find out.

I would have to get close to her.

The thought came sharp and sudden, followed by a grin tugging at my lips. "Befriend her," I murmured to myself. "Maybe even pretend I’m interested." Women liked that sort of thing—attention, pursuit.

I hadn’t done the chasing in years, but surely the skill hadn’t rusted entirely. My wolf let out a low, amused rumble in my head.

"Don’t start," I muttered.

Oh, I won’t. I’m just happy you’re finally going near her instead of brooding from a distance.

I scowled inwardly, ignoring the laughter echoing in my mind. At least he was pleased. The thought of being near her again—close enough to read that calm mask she wore—wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

The crowd’s noise swelled again, dragging me out of my thoughts. Cheers erupted from one side, jeers from another. Not everyone was happy with the outcome.

"She should’ve finished him!" someone yelled.

"That wasn’t a victory!" another voice cried.

"She bewitched him, that’s what happened!"

"Darius lost on purpose, coward!"

"Cheap! The both of them!"

"Refund my bet, you royal fraud!"

And then—a shoe flew. I watched it arc through the air like a misguided bird before landing with a soft thud near Darius’s feet.

Darius didn’t even flinch. He stood there, tall and unmoving, eyes fixed on the horizon. Sage, however, simply rolled her eyes, the faintest smirk curving her lips. I had to fight the smile threatening to rise to my own.

Gods, she had nerve.

I stood, my voice cutting through the rising chaos. "Enough!"

The single word carried power, authority. Silence followed almost instantly, broken only by a few lingering grumbles. "The contest is over," I said firmly. "Darius himself has declared Sage the winner. His word stands as law. Let no one question it further."

A few muttered curses followed, but the tension began to dissipate. I softened my tone deliberately. "Today is a day of celebration—a day to honor the Goddess, not disgrace her name with petty squabbles. Go home. Celebrate. The fights are done."

The crowd hesitated, then slowly began to scatter. Still, the air was thick with mixed emotions—admiration, curiosity, and resentment. I could feel the eyes lingering on Sage, their whispers sharp as needles.

She bore it all with the same ease she’d fought with, her posture straight, chin lifted, gaze unbothered. She didn’t bow to anyone’s expectation, and for some reason, that infuriated and fascinated me all at once.

I turned to her as the crowd began thinning. "Congratulations, Lady Sage," I said, forcing a hint of warmth into my voice. "You fought well."

Her gaze flicked to me—measured, unreadable. "Did I?" she asked, her tone carrying that familiar edge. "I didn’t finish the fight."

"Perhaps," I replied, holding her gaze. "But mercy takes strength too."

She tilted her head slightly, one brow arched. "Is that what you call it? Mercy?"

"Among other things," I said, allowing a faint smile.

Her lips twitched, as if she might return it, but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

I gestured toward Darius, who had finally turned away from the crowd, his expression carefully neutral. "Both of you," I continued, "join us for the royal banquet this evening. The court will expect to celebrate the victor. Go home and refresh yourselves. We’ll see you at dusk."

Sage nodded once, curtly. Darius gave a short bow. But it was Sage’s eyes that held me, sharp and deep, as if she already knew I was planning something.

I let my gaze linger, softening just slightly, just enough for her to notice. And she did—of course she did. Her brow arched in quiet suspicion, and I bit back a smirk. Good. Let her wonder.

With that, I turned on my heel and left the field, my brothers falling into step behind me.

—

By the time we reached our quarters, the exhilaration of the crowd had given way to the quiet murmur of palace life. Daniel was already talking, animated as always.

"I swear," he said, throwing himself into a chair, "I should’ve bet on Sage! I don’t know what possessed me to back Darius. The odds were better with her."

Noah chuckled from across the room, stretching his long legs. "I told you," he said mildly. "Never bet against a witch, especially one who smiles before a fight."

"Yeah, yeah," Daniel grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "You’re insufferable when you’re right."

I smiled faintly as I stepped into the smaller living room—a comfortable space tucked between our chambers. The fire crackled in the stone hearth, throwing golden light across the plush chairs and dark wooden shelves lined with old books and maps.

The faint scent of pine and smoke lingered in the air, familiar, grounding. I poured myself a drink from the decanter on the side table before settling into the chair closest to the fire.

Noah raised his glass toward me. "So, brother, what did you think of her performance?"

I took a sip, feeling the burn of the liquor slide down my throat. "Impressive," I said quietly. "Unsettlingly so."

Daniel scoffed. "You mean terrifying. The way she moved—hells, I’d almost think she was one of them."

I didn’t reply. The truth was, I had thought the same.

"Keep it down, Daniel," Noah muttered. "It’s just a game. A friendly fight."

Daniel shot him a glare. "You call that friendly? He could’ve died if she hadn’t stopped."

Their bickering faded into the background as I stared into the flames. My mind wasn’t here—it was still on the field, still caught in the image of Sage’s eyes locking with Darius’s, of her lips parting slightly when he whispered something I couldn’t hear. I hated that I couldn’t hear it.

Our father’s voice cut through my thoughts. "Adam," he said, and when I looked up, he was studying me from across the hearth. His gaze was sharp, knowing. "What are you planning?"

The room fell silent. Daniel leaned forward, interest gleaming in his eyes. Noah sighed, clearly anticipating trouble.

I leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "Planning?" I repeated, feigning nonchalance. "Nothing much. Just... getting closer to Sage."