Chapter 32: Chapter 32: THE BETA’S WARNING

VALORIA WILDEROSE

The gentle sounds of nature wake me from my sleep in the same place I was last night.

A part of me was expecting to find myself back on my bed instead, because last night felt like a dream.

Talking to Azrael like he’s but a person—an ordinary, boring person—felt like a fever dream: hazy and distant but with a heavy sense of realness etched in.

He smiled like a man would and made subtle jokes, aside from the usual death threats.

But there were glimpses where I could see the man Calliope talked about—a man who’s simply bored and searching for something to fill the void of his vast, endless life.

Suddenly her words don’t sound so cynical anymore.

I didn’t think it was possible to fall asleep right next to him, but I slept so soundly without the usual headaches or nightmares.

And now the space he occupied lies empty and cold, as if all of it was just my imagination.

I slide out of bed slowly, taking his absence as a cue to leave finally and possibly pretend none of last night ever happened.

For a moment I consider going through his room, searching for clues related to the blade the goddess had spoken about: golden, with a ruby gem fastened to the bottom.

I thought of it last night, but there was no way to carry out my investigation with him being right there. Maybe now that he’s not here, I could look around and—

“Concubine Valoria Wilderose.”

“Ah!” I scream, jolting out of the bed faster than I planned to, falling headfirst onto the floor painfully.

I groan, rubbing the new sore spot and slowly turning towards the door where Azrael’s Beta stands—Eros, brooding mysteriously as always.

“I-I’m sorry. I w-was just ab-bout to le-leave,” I stammer nervously, rushing to my feet, grateful to the goddess that he made his presence known before I started looking.

I limp three steps towards the door before he speaks again.

“His Majesty has summoned you to the throne room.”

I turn and look at him again.

“M-Me?”

“Yes.” He responds without the patience of bothering to explain anything. “I will guide you.”

And with that he’s already walking briskly towards the door ahead of me, with the silent command to follow him.

I hesitate for a second before I do, jogging to catch up to his pace. I cast a passing glance at the king’s room before we leave.

I’m running after this tall wall of a man, struggling to match his casual, long strides, maintaining my breath while we move in silence, and I’m left to stare at nothing except the back of his head.

Tall with broad shoulders, he’s as good-looking as Azrael and the complete opposite when it comes to personalities, with his more reserved and quiet characteristics.

Where Azrael is loud, crazy, and quick to act based on a thought, he seems like the type to silently observe with no emotions before taking action. I can tell he’s a Lycan, the superior race.

They were fewer in numbers, but a wolf can always tell—being in their presence and feeling that intimidating aura, that slightly different smell coming off of them.

I’ve not met many of them, but I can tell he’d stand out amongst their kind… nothing compared to Azrael though.

“D-Do you b-by any ch-ance know w-why his ma-majesty might b-be loo-looking for me?” I ask, summoning the courage to speak to him.

The silence is killing me slowly.

I understand why it’s known as another form of torture.

Not knowing what’s going on or what I’m walking into—why first thing in the morning he was gone without waking me and then summons me with his guard, especially after what we talked about last night—eats me alive.

But he doesn’t respond. I’m met with more cold silence; nothing but the sound of my feet against the rugged floors can be heard.

A new discomforting feeling settles deeper into my gut. I take the silent command to shut up, swallowing a ball of saliva.

Minutes pass again until he comes to a final halt ahead of me, turning around to look at me as I approach him a second later, catching my breath, heaving like an out-of-shape pug.

I look up and meet his amber eyes now that he’s finally looking at me, sensing that he’s going to tell me something.

“A word of advice…” He starts off cold.

Not the start I’m expecting either. My smile slowly fades.

“Do not expect anything from His Majesty simply because he has shown you what seems like a glimpse of hope or a peek into his mind. He is ruthless both on the inside and outside. Accepting that will make the eventual end less painful. For now, approach everything you see in there with caution.”

There’s no repugnant dislike like I had sensed with the Zeta or anger—just pure disinterest and indifference.

I stare at him—confused, surprised, and speechless—digesting words that bear a close semblance to a warning.

There’s no chance to ask the million questions that flood my mind before he pushes the door directly beside us wide open.

A bright, blinding light pierces through my corneas first from the well-lit room on the other side, and only after my eyes adjust do I take in everything waiting for me.

It’s a wide-spaced throne room with large windows, no furniture in sight besides the throne itself sitting on elevated ground at one far end.

Guards and maids are lined up in an arc around a center where Ivana kneels, wounded in the same filthy clothes from yesterday, hair a mess and shivering with fear.

Beside one of the maids I recognize from Ivana’s tea party kneels another attendant in the same sorry state—except her widened eyes are more devastated as she stares at something up ahead.

I follow her line of sight, gasping loudly before I can control myself at the body in front: the second maid. A pool of blood sits beneath her pale, limp form at his feet.

Azrael’s feet.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep