Chapter 184
Elena’s POV
What happened at the wedding and these new findings really brought the kingdom into a high alert, especially after the issuance of the arrest for Glenda’s crime.
Tension filled the surroundings of the entire kingdom and not just the palace. Even the garden that usually felt peaceful carried a smell of steel and danger from the constantly rounding guards.
They patrolled every corridor, their faces grim masks of duty. While the world outside debated the scandal of Glenda’s fall, inside these walls, we were preparing for a siege that could happen at any time.
I walked down the hallway leading to the family wing, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. My mind was still racing with Kaelen’s report about the posion… Nightshade extract. Glenda went too far. She hadn’t just bullied Rafael, she intentionally wanted to kill him, and that thought made bile rise in my throat.
I found Rafael not in his playroom, but sitting on the window seat in the library nook of the room, his knees pulled up to his chest. He was staring out at the garden, watching the extra patrols march by. He looked so small against the vastness of the window, a fragile bird in a storm.
“Raf?” I called out softly, just enough to get his attention but joy startled him.
He turned his head slowly and I met his glistening wide eyes shadowed with a fear no child should have to carry.
“Auntie?” he whispered. “Is… is that bad lady coming back?”
I could see the trauma in his eyes. Who could blame him though, he just barely recovered from what happened to him and Glenda was already there making him suffer.
And that’s all because of me.
My heart clenched in guilt and anger. We had tried not to tell him what’s happening, but after living alone in that forest, even though he’s a child his instinct sure developed fast.
There’s no doubt he already got the hint from how tight the security had become and how people whispered around.
I walked over and sat beside him, pulling him into my side. “No, sweetie. She’s not coming here. Uncle Deacon and the guards are making sure of that.”
“I heard the maids talking,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “They said she’s hiding. They said she’s the one who made me
sick before.”
I stiffened, and made a mental note to talk to the staff about discretion, but Rafael needed honesty right now. “Yes, Raf. She did. But we know now. And because we know, she can’t trick us again.”
He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them.
“I’m scared,” he confessed, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t want to be sick again. I don’t want to be weak.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” I soothed, kissing the top of his head. “Bravery isn’t about not being scared, Raf. It’s about being scared and keeping going anyway.”
He sat in silence for a moment, processing this. Then, he wiped his face with the back of his hand, a look of determination hardening his young features. He hopped off the window seat.
“Where is Uncle Deacon?” he asked.
“He’s in the training hall,” I replied, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Why?”
“I need to talk to him.”
+25 Bonus
He didn’t wait for me to lead the way. He marched out of the library with a purpose that looked almost comical on his small frame, but I didn’t laugh. I followed him, curious and anxious.
We reached the training hall, and the sound of heavy impacts echoed through the double doors. Inside, Deacon was working off his frustration on a heavy bag. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin, his movements a blur of terrifying power. Each punch sounded like a crack of thunder.
Rafael hesitated at the door, awestruck and intimidated by the sheer violence of Deacon’s strength. Deacon must have scented us because he stopped mid–swing, catching the heavy bag with one hand to silence it. He turned, his chest heaving slightly, his expression instantly softening when he saw the boy.
“Rafael,” Deacon said, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “Everything alright?”
Rafael took a step forward, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“You’re strong,” he said in awe. It wasn’t a question.
Deacon walked over, kneeling so he was at eye level with the boy. “I have to be. To protect the kingdom. To protect you and Elena.”
“I want to be strong too,” Rafael said, his voice shaking but loud in the cavernous room. “I don’t want to hide in the library. I don’t want the bad lady to hurt me. I want… I want to be like you.”
I watched from the doorway, my hand covering my mouth to stifle a gasp. The bond between them had been growing for months, but this was different. This was Rafael choosing Deacon as his father figure, his protector, and his role model.
Deacon went still. He looked at Rafael with an intensity that would have made a grown man flinch, but Rafael held his gaze.
“Strength is a heavy burden, little pup,” Deacon said seriously. “It means you have to protect others, even when you’re afraid.”
“I know,” Rafael nodded. “Teach me? Please?”
Deacon smiled then, a genuine, proud smile that lit up his face. He stood up and tossed the towel aside. “Okay. But we start with the basics. No punching yet. First, you have to learn how to stand.”
Rafael’s eyes lit up. “Okay!”
“Feet shoulder–width apart,” Deacon instructed, gently nudging Rafael’s feet into position with his own. “Knees bent slightly. Lower your centre of gravity. You can’t fight if you fall over.”
I leaned against the doorframe, watching as the Alpha King, the most feared wolf in the kingdom, spent the next hour patiently correcting the stance of a seven–year–old boy.
“Hands up,” Deacon commanded gently, tapping Rafael’s chin. “Protect your head. Always protect your head.”
“Like this?” Rafael asked, mimicking Deacon’s guard.
“Exactly like that,” Deacon praised. “Good. Now, when I push you, don’t step back. Brace yourself. Use the ground.”
Deacon pressed his hand against Rafael’s shoulder, applying the slightest bit of pressure. Rafael wobbled but gritted his teeth and pushed back, holding his ground.
“I did it!” Rafael cheered, beaming.
“You did,” Deacon agreed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You’re a natural warrior, Raf.”
As I watched them, the fear of Glenda and the warrant faded into the background. Let her hide in the slums. Let her plot. She had no idea what she was up against. She was fighting for revenge, fueled by hate.
We were fighting for our families. And looking at the two of the, the Prince and my nephew who wanted to be just like him, I knew that was a strength Glenda could never defeat
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
