The Devil's Son and His Fated Bride
Chapter 51: The Serpent Clan

Chapter 51: The Serpent Clan

It was late when Rail arrived at the lab, finding Ren slumped in a chair beside Arkilla. Her legs throbbed, protesting any further movement.

"Oh, this is even more exhausting than combat training in the arena," she groaned.

Arkilla snorted. "Oh, I disagree. Combat is far better. But, this is draining. It must be past twelve by now." She glanced at Rail. "Why do you look so baffled?"

"The scent in this place is incredible. Now, I’m jealous of His Majesty."

Arkilla rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, you reek of moss. Where have you been?"

"I was... busy. None of your business anyway," he replied smugly. "Everyone has already had their dinner. Mind if I join you?"

They got to their feet. "It would be my honor. I hate eating alone," Ren said, placing the lid on the wooden box.

"Urgh, not my honor, though," Arkilla muttered, making a face at Rail.

"Shut up, Killa. I’ll kick your ass tonight. You’re my opponent," he shot back.

"No training for me tonight," Arkilla groaned. "I’m dying. I’ll eat like a wolf and sleep like a pig."

"We got a lot done, but we couldn’t finish everything. That stings," Ren admitted.

"I thought you were done," Rail commented as they walked out of the lab.

"No, Luna Ren is going to make perfume too," Arkilla explained.

"Ah, that’s a lot of work."

Ren smiled. "It is. And what about you? I doubt you spend all your time training or patrolling."

They turned down a pathway, passing by the garden.

Rail nodded, proudly answering, "I’m a forging apprentice. My Alpha King is my master."

Ren raised her brows. Kaisun had taken full responsibility for his godsons, not just as their ruler but as their mentor and guardian. He trained them, guided them, and shaped them into the warriors and leaders they were becoming. It was a quiet, unwavering devotion that spoke volumes about how deeply he cared for them. That only proved how deeply he cared for them. And this was undoubtedly, Love. Love came in many forms, and this was one of them. It didn’t have to be spoken to exist.

"Before this, he studied at the Clans Academy. They kicked him out after he disrespected one of the scholars," Arkilla spat at Rail, clearly enjoying their endless banter.

"Oh, wow! I didn’t even know Thegara had an academy!" Ren exclaimed.

Arkilla and Rail exchanged a look of pure shock.

"What?" Rail purred. "The Clans Academy of Thegara is famous for its diversity. We have many kinds of shifters and species here, and they need education to avoid chaos, so the Clans built an academy in the East five years ago. The entry exam is brutal. I studied there for a year, but Org couldn’t even pass the exam and chose to farm instead."

Ren felt as though she had been thrown into the past, realizing how little she truly knew about this land. She had arrived with so many preconceived notions, believing Thegara to be wild and primitive, but time and again, she was proven wrong. The depth of its history, the structure of its society, and now an entire academy dedicated to education, it was humbling. She had been blind to so much, and the realization left her feeling small, her assumptions crumbling under the weight of the truth. Thegara had always been painted as barbaric, yet here it was, boasting its own academy. Just like Alvonia. The realization left her ashamed.

"Why didn’t you stay?" she asked.

"The Peacock Thinker was an ass to Moon Valley. He taught history and kept saying wolves weren’t wise enough to rule because they couldn’t control their tempers. That was treacherous."

Rail’s tone was self-righteous, but Arkilla scoffed. "And then you called him a bastard bird that wolves don’t even fuck or bother roasting for their first Shifting damn feast night!"

Ren choked on her own saliva. What?! The Thinker had probably meant it as a lesson in emotional control, but Rail had only gone and proven him right.

"You are making it so tragic!" He nagged.

"Not just that," Arkilla continued, eyes gleaming with mischief. "He grabbed the poor instructor and tossed him out of a fourth-floor window, shouting, ’Fly, birdy, save yourself, wolves are not coming to save your little ass!’ Can you imagine that?"

Ren’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Rail was funny, wickedly funny. No wonder he had been so unbothered when Calisa had threatened him. The two were probably locked in an eternal battle of wits.

"Did Calisa know about this?" Ren asked, barely keeping her composure.

"Yeah. The entire Bird Shifter clan hates Rail. And the poor thinker? Bedridden for three months. Rail left him with two broken legs. He’s revered among the bird shifters for his age and wisdom. The man is 300 years old."

Ren shook her head. This misunderstanding turned catastrophic. While she understood why Rail had reacted the way he did, she couldn’t help but think there had been a better way to handle it. The thinker had insulted their kind, yes, but throwing him from a fourth-floor window had been excessive, though admittedly, in Rail’s dramatic way, it was almost poetic justice.

"Why are you even taking their side? I’m glad you’re not a bird, or I’d roast you for dinner," Rail quipped.

Ren couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. Arkilla remained expressionless, while Rail added so much dramatic flair that it only made the moment funnier.

"Shut up, Rail!" Arkilla snapped, but she, too, was smiling.

They entered the castle, crossing quiet corridors. The curfew was near, and everyone had already retired to their rooms or homes. Only the patrolling guards remained.

When they reached the kitchen, the warm air wrapped around them, carrying the rich aroma of roasted meat and spiced vegetables. A table was already set for them, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over the hearty meal awaiting them. And there were three roasted chickens, speaking of birds! Rail wickedly smirked, "Delicious birds!"

A young human with curly hair greeted them. "The master chef had to leave, but I’m here. If you need anything else, just call me."

"Alright, Mike. As always, everything smells amazing. Thank you," Arkilla said before glaring at Rail. "You pig! Our Luna must eat first."

Rail looked up, a roasted chicken leg already in his mouth, his eyes wide with innocence. "Mmmmoorry," he mumbled through the food.

Ren chuckled. "Help yourself, Rail. Killa, leave him alone and eat."

After stuffing themselves with delicious food, Ren leaned back, sipping her apple drink that didn’t have much alcohol, very light and tasty. Everything in this land tasted better than she had expected. It was odd how much she loved it. She had been raised on simple dishes, mostly vegetables not to gain fat, royal restrictions, yet here she was, indulging in all kinds of meats and savoring them.

"Rail, how many clans exist in this land?" she asked.

"About twelve. Four of them are wolves," he answered, drumming his fingers on his full stomach. Then he smirked. "And if you’re wondering which clan has the most beautiful women, it’s the Serpent Clans. Those scary monsters are unbelievably hot. Shame they don’t like His Highness." He drawled with so much fascination. Arkilla punched his arm.

Oops. He probably shouldn’t have said that in front of their Luna. Ren’s fingers tightened around her cup, her expression unreadable for a brief moment. But then, instead of anger, curiosity flickered in her eyes, her interest piqued rather than offended. But it was too late for him to regret it, as she was already demanding an answer.

"How come?"

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