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หน้าหลัก / Werewolf / The Marked Mate of the Lycan King / บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

บททั้งหมดของ The Marked Mate of the Lycan King: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

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Chapter 31

The Corrupted Shard (Part 2)The day felt endless. Demetrius returned before noon, bringing with him the heavy scent of rain and battle plans. He spent the entire afternoon at the map table, occasionally issuing sharp, clipped orders to guards and messengers.He was quiet, his movements strained. I kept to my side of the tent, pretending to be occupied with mending a rip in one of the furs. Every time I moved, the stolen items in my pocket—the journal and the silver object—pressed against my thigh, a constant, heavy reminder of the danger.The tension between us was a living thing, thick and poisonous. We didn't exchange a single word all afternoon.Finally, the sun dipped, and the oil lamp was lit. Demetrius dismissed his last soldier and pulled the wool partition between our areas, a clear signal that the day’s command was over, and the night’s fight for control was beginning.As soon as the tent was silent, I waited, listening to the rhythm of his movement. He poured water, drank,
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Chapter 32

Hatred ComplicatedI lay on my cot, perfectly still, my muscles aching from the effort of holding my breath, but the physical tension was nothing compared to the war raging in my mind. The silver object and the journal were still hidden deep inside my tunic. The terrible truth they held was burning me alive.Demetrius was not a cold-blooded monster enjoying my rejection. He was a dying man trying to finish a war before his own body betrayed him.The weight of my previous judgment crushed me. Every harsh word I had thought, every accusation I had flung at him about his arrogance and cruelty, now felt baseless and small. They felt like childish tantrums against a man fighting to keep the sky from falling.The binding. I remember the pain of the ritual, the way he looked like he was fighting his own skin. I thought he was fighting the Mate Bond because he hated my kind, hated Omegas. But he was fighting it because it was a connection, a wire that would send the silver’s poison straight f
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Chapter 33

Coded MessageThe morning broke, cold and clear. Demetrius was up before the first light hit the canvas. I heard him moving behind the partition, the heavy sound of armor being put on, the sharp clink of metal that made my entire body tense. The Mate Bond was screaming at me now, not with the fire of the night, but with a dull, constant ache. He was suppressing the silver sickness with pure will, making his body rigid and unfeeling.I watched through the small gap near the floor as his boots moved. I could see the tension in his calves, the slow, deliberate movements that hid the pain he felt. My love for him, that complicated, protective surge, made my eyes sting.He’s going to break. He cannot sustain this fight. The journal said the corruption spreads when the body is under stress. He is leading a war, he is using his Lycan power every moment, and he is fighting me. All of it is speeding up his death. I have to find the cure, and the key is in ancient remedies. I need a source he d
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Chapter 34

The Unstable KingThe silver started its work exactly thirty minutes into the morning briefing.I sat at the head of the command table, a massive, rough-hewn slab of oak surrounded by my highest-ranking generals. The room was hot, filled with the close, heavy scent of strained Lycan energy and sweat. Outside, the war camp was a constant, low roar of activity. Here, I needed focus.But the pain began—not the sharp, burning shock of a full flare, but a slow, sickening crawl, like frozen fire spreading from my chest to my limbs. It pulled my concentration away, making the voices of my generals sound distant and muffled, as if I were underwater.General Kael, an old, tough Lycan with a booming voice, was speaking about troop movements. “...We require two full battalions for the northern front before nightfall, Your Majesty. Logistics report shows the supply convoy is delayed by a day—”A day. A day late. How many men does that cost? I need to look at the map. I need to see the line of att
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Chapter 35

Confronting RhysDemetrius left the command area shortly after the briefing, moving with that stiff, almost painful control. The residual heat of the silver sickness still clung to his scent, a sharp, metallic tang mixed with ozone. Even through the walls of the tent, I felt the thin, stretched thread of the Mate Bond. He was holding onto it, gripping it like a freezing man holds a thin rope over a cliff edge.I spent the next two hours pacing the tent, the journal from the chest hidden beneath my sleep pallet. I had memorized the key entries: Corruption spreads during exertion. The fever spikes when the Lycan fights the poison openly.He was fighting. He was exerting himself. He was dying faster.I needed help, and the only person who knew even the faintest glimmer of the truth was Beta Rhys. He was Demetrius’s most loyal second, the only one allowed near the King during the worst episodes of pain. He might not know about the corrupted shard, but he certainly knew about the 'sickness
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Chapter 36

The Scars ExplainedThe moment Demetrius returned to the command tent, I knew my conversation with Rhys had raised a massive flag. He didn't speak to me, didn't even look at me. He simply changed his clothing, the movement of his large body making the thick canvas walls shake, and then he stood before the partition."We will review close-quarters defensive maneuvers," he announced, his voice flat and hard. It was not a question. It was a command. "The tactical maps you requested are useless if you cannot keep yourself alive. Now."I had no choice. I had to follow him into the small, open-air training yard behind the command tent. The evening air was bitter cold, and the dirt was freezing under our boots. Demetrius stood opposite me, his posture radiating suspicion and controlled anger. The 'training' wasn't about teaching me; it was about watching me closely, pushing me to see if I would crack.He is testing me. Rhys told him I was asking about his pain, about his 'internal enemy.' He
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Chapter 37

The Herbal PreparationThe silence after Demetrius left was a physical weight. After the training session and the raw emotion of the scars lie, the Mate Bond felt taut, stretched thin between us. His anger—the fury for the dead Alpha who had supposedly scarred me—was still clinging to the air, powerful enough to smother the pain of the silver for a while. That furious protection was my new shield, but it also made the risk of discovery terrifying.I spent the night sleeplessly, the fear that Demetrius would collapse at any moment warring with the anxiety that Finn wouldn't understand my coded message.If Finn thought I was truly asking for ancient battle maps, he would send a clerk. But I asked for 'The Legacy of the Wounded Crown,' section 7.2: 'stabilizing the corrupted heartwood.' That is not war. That is healing. If he’s as sharp as Demetrius trusts, he will know the King’s Mate is asking about the King’s secret, deadly weakness.The next morning, Demetrius left early for the fron
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Chapter 38

The First Act of CareThe night felt impossibly cold. Demetrius had returned late from the forward line, his armor still dusted with the gray grit of the canyons. The Mate Bond was vibrating with a strained, humming intensity. I could feel his exhaustion, thick and smothering, pressing down on my own spirit. He barely acknowledged my presence, only muttering a command to the guard outside before collapsing onto his cot behind the partition.I lay perfectly still on my own cot, the small glass vial of the willow-and-mint anti-toxin clutched in my hand. It was now or never. He was at his limit. His control was razor-thin, worn away by hours of commanding troops and fighting the silver’s constant drain.I needed to wait for the critical moment, the brief window when his willpower failed, but before the pain forced him back into conscious, angry control.It came around midnight.The Mate Bond suddenly snapped, not into silence, but into a piercing, agonizing spike. It felt like a massive
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Chapter 39

The Sweet NumbnessI woke slowly, which was wrong.Waking was supposed to be a shock. It was supposed to be the moment the silver shard in my chest reignited, sending a fresh, paralyzing wave of icy fire through my nerves. Every morning for the last four years began with a silent, internal fight to pull myself out of the suffocating cold of the poison.But today, there was only a low, steady warmth.I opened my eyes and stared at the rough canvas ceiling of the tent. My limbs felt heavy, weighted, but not rigid with pain. My heart was beating with a slow, powerful rhythm, not the frantic, thumping battle against the corrupting metal.I sat up abruptly. Too quickly. The speed should have brought immediate, blinding agony. Instead, I felt a dizzying clarity.What is this? This is a lie. This cannot be real. The pain is my constant. It is my armor. Without it, I am soft. I am weak.I pressed a fist against my sternum, searching for the familiar, cold spear of the silver sickness. It was
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Chapter 40

The Near ConfessionThe day was endless. I sat in my side of the tent, confined by Demetrius’s order, pretending to read the tactical maps he had given me. But my eyes kept drifting to the partition. I felt the sharp ache of exhaustion from the life force I had poured into the Mate Bond last night, and the strange, quiet satisfaction that the ache was worth it.He had been gone for hours, commanding the troops. The camp noise was muted, but the tension was thick enough to choke on. Every time I reached for the Mate Bond, it confirmed the same thing: Demetrius was clear. He was sharp. The silver was quiet.Around midafternoon, the flap was thrown open roughly, and Demetrius entered. He didn't speak to the guard, Garth, just stormed past him.He was wearing fresh, simple leathers, not his heavy armor. His face was grim, stamped with the stress of the war, but the frantic, desperate look of internal pain was gone. His eyes were focused, his posture strong. He looked like the true, terrif
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