The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 158: Where are they?

Chapter 158: Where are they?

"King Alvone had descendants who escaped from Jaigara. Where did they settle?" Arkilla murmured, her eyes narrowing at the worn, ink-faded branches of the family tree sprawled across the page like a ghost’s web.

"Yes, Arkilla. I thought the same, look at these pages, this slim spine pricks me, he had many achievements, and this book is too small." Came the quiet and yet furious reply. "The way Victor approached that girl... it’s too precise. Not just her purity. This is too deliberate. Either she carries secrets she doesn’t yet understand, or she’s hiding them well. I will know."

Arkilla flipped another brittle page, the parchment whispering beneath her fingertips. Her frown deepened. "You don’t trust her, do you?"

"Of course, I don’t," came the sharp answer. "But I won’t let her die just because a vampire decided to play puppet master."

Ren suddenly looked up, her gaze darting to the dusk-streaked sky. "It’s getting dark," she whispered. "Gloria hasn’t returned. I’m scared royals bully her. She is adorable for a maiden, and these women are jealous as hell."

She shot to her feet, unease coiling in her belly like a tightening noose.

"I don’t feel right," she said, her voice clipped and tight. "We need to find her. I’ll keep her close to me, a chamber right next to me for both of you."

Arkilla’s shoulders tensed. The girl should have arrived long ago, punctual to a fault, never one to delay. Something was wrong.

Unfamiliar with the castle’s layout, Arkilla followed closely as Reneira led the way through dim, endless corridors. This fortress was nearly three times the size of Thegara’s Vine Castle, and far colder in spirit.

"I don’t like this place," Arkilla muttered, glancing over her shoulder.

Eyes watched them, too many, too long, stares that rip your clothes off and assault you in a dislikable way.

Servants paused mid-step in the halls, heads turning, gazes lingering just a moment too long before vanishing around corners. The air was thick with something muffled.

Something coming silently...

Ren knocked sharply on the door where their vassals were lodged. It creaked open, and a few maidens stepped out, dipping low in respect.

"Your Highness," one of them said gently. "How may we serve you?"

"I’m looking for my maiden, her name is Gloria," Ren said, urgency tightening her voice. Her eyes scanned their faces, searching for a flicker of recognition.

"Oh! The red-haired girl?" one of the maidens offered. "She’s quite lovely."

"Yes," Ren pressed, stepping closer. "Did you see where she went?"

The girls exchanged uneasy glances.

"A tall man came for her," one said finally, hesitating. "She was summoned... to meet her king."

Ren’s blood ran cold.

"Do you know where they are now?"

The group stiffened. A pause. Then subtle shakes of the head followed.

"We’re sorry, Your Grace. We... we cannot say."

Arkilla clenched her jaw so tightly that her teeth ached. If only she wasn’t wolfless—powerless—useless. She should have been able to track Gloria herself.

"Come," Ren said sharply. Her eyes burned with determination now, her body already in motion. "I think I know where she might be."

She strode through the long, echoing corridors, her boots clicking across the polished stone. They crossed chamber after chamber, past flickering torches and towering windows that reflected their silhouettes like ghosts.

Finally, she stopped before a heavy, carved door. Her knuckles rapped against the wood. No answer.

Then, at last, the door creaked open, revealing King Benkin’s butler, Hergor. His expression was unreadable at first, but then it darkened like a cloud swallowing the sun.

"Is King Benkin and my husband here?"

"Your Highness," he said, voice low. "They were here... but they left."

Ren’s breath caught. "Do you know where they went?"

"I’m afraid not." He stepped aside slightly. "Would you like to leave a note?"

"No!"

Ren’s spine stiffened, a cold pulse running down it like a blade. Her fingers had gone numb. Where are you, Gloria?

"Have you seen the shifters?" she asked tightly.

The butler gave a nod. "They were at the training field, challenging our guards and elite warriors, those preparing for the battlefield."

Ren didn’t wait for more. She spun on her heel, her cloak whipping behind her as she stormed down the hall, Arkilla rushing to keep up. She’d find Gloria. Even if she had to tear through every wall of this castle to do it.

Outside, the skies had opened up. Rain lashed the training grounds like a curse. Mud slicked the earth. Half-naked men, warriors forged by steel and muddy skin, clashed beneath the thunder. Blades whistled and cracked. Human fighters already sagged with exhaustion, gasping, their swords slipping from bloodied fingers. They were no match for the werewolves.

Above the clash, women in fine robes and veils gathered beneath the covered galleries. Maidens of the court, noble ladies of the harem, they watched with wide, glittering eyes, their laughter and claps rising with each clash of steel. It was a dance of flesh and danger they didn’t understand but deeply craved. These men were preparing to die, and the royals were laughing and ogling.

Arkilla’s gaze narrowed, catching sight of Beta Coran locked in a duel with a seasoned commander. His movements were fluid, brutal, and mesmerizing, showing the glories of a wolf fighter.

"Beta Coran!" Arkilla cried out.

Thunder cracked violently overhead, swallowing her voice, but wolves needed no words.

Beta Coran’s ears twitched. In an instant, he turned toward them. A heartbeat later, he was at their side, rainwater streaking down his bare chest, head bowed in deference.

Ren barely noticed the whispers that rose like heat around them.

"She’s lucky," someone murmured, "to walk among such beasts."

"They’re gods in mortal skin... I’d give anything to be chosen by one."

"I want one inside me, don’t care if I die with pleasure..."

"Imagine them coming inside you and growl...hell.. I want it."

...

Ren flushed at the murmurs still floating in the air, heat rising to her cheeks. But she forced herself to shove them aside. Focus. Gloria is missing. Rail too. Something’s wrong. The voices faded into static in Ren’s ears. Her focus was unshakable.

"Beta Coran," she said, steadying her voice. "Have you seen Rail and Gloria? His Highness summoned them, but no one has seen them since."

Something flickered in Coran’s expression. A half-second hesitation, a twitch of the jaw, too quick for most to catch, but not for her.

"His Highness wished to speak with them privately," Coran said, voice even, eyes carefully unreadable. "Perhaps he chose to give them leave for a while."

Ren’s fingers curled into a fist before resting over her heart. So that’s why she couldn’t find Kai’s mind. He must have blocked the link. If it was his doing... then maybe there was no danger.

Still, a sliver of unease twisted inside her.

"And where are His Highness and my uncle, Agara now?"

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