Akeeva regarded their solemn faces with the patience of a mother about to scold her children for repeating the same mistake.
She had given them until the last week of the moon to bring her something—something better, something tangible, reasonable.
Yet here they were again, offering her the same infuriating response.
"She doesn't want to be found."
Her fingers tightened against the armrest of her chair.
She was already convinced this was becoming their favourite phrase.
And she was tired of hearing it.
If time had been on her side, Akeeva would have simply sat back and watched as the King of the Amber Kingdom faced divine retribution for his carelessness and ignorance—for allowing his wife to do as she pleased without consequence.
How could a father not know where his own child was?
Her conversation with the gods last night had made one thing clear: the union could no longer be delayed. The groom was not the issue—the bride was.
And when they finally decided to grace them with their heavenly presence, she was more than ready to give them an earful about manners.
Note the sarcasm.
She hadn't wanted to help them. Not because she particularly enjoyed their suffering—well, maybe just a little—but because the only way to find her would cause pain.
Pain she wasn't sure the girl could handle.
Or was she simply underestimating her?
Akeeva's gaze sharpened.
"What else did you try after using the shadow workers to no avail?"
"I used the family link."
"And it didn't work?"
The High Priestess stiffened. A family link should always locate a missing member, no matter the conflict. It only failed under two circumstances—
And neither boded well.
A family link only failed under two circumstances.
One: The person was powerful enough to divert its focus.
Two: The person had made a vow—a binding one—to sever all ties with their family, a vow that had remained unbroken for over a decade.
Even the imperial couple, though composed, couldn't hide their momentary flicker of surprise.
If it was the former, it was understandable. The girl had always been...strange.
But if it was the latter, then how much damage had been done to push her to make such an irrevocable vow at such a tender age?
Revoking the family bond was akin to cutting oneself off from all protection. If she were ever in danger, no one from her bloodline would sense it. She would be utterly alone.
Akeeva exhaled sharply.
"Use the empire's link."
Unlike the family bond, the empire's link was absolute—it bound every citizen. The moment a child was born within the empire's borders, the bond formed automatically, a mark of belonging and an essential safeguard, especially for the young.
After all, before a child's senses fully developed, the empire's protection was their greatest defence.
---
Adira paced the room, her patience unravelling with each passing second. She could feel her composure slipping, and she hated it.
As Empress, she was the mother of the empire. Poise was expected of her—calm in all situations, unwavering strength.
Yet, at this moment, she was finding it impossible to remain calm.
Who, in their right mind, would be, when they were just one step away from facing the wrath of the heavens?
Her non-existent heart pounded so violently it scared her.
Dante noticed. Without hesitation, he crossed the room, pulling her into his arms.
With a firm yet gentle touch, he lifted her chin with his index finger—then, without a second thought, he claimed her lips, heedless of Arnold's presence.
The King of Amber Kingdom was watching.
But Dante did not care.
She looped her arms loosely around his neck, pulling him closer—not that there was any space left between them. Not even a whisper of air, not even a fly could pass through.
Dante's warmth seeped into her, grounding her. This was what she needed. Reassurance. Stability. And what better place to find it than in the arms of the man who had always been her anchor?
The man who made her feel things no one else ever had—and still could.
Dante bit her lower lip, drawing a soft moan from her. Her lips parted instinctively, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her.
Arnold exhaled sharply and turned his back to them, already feeling like an unwanted third wheel.
He had really missed his Tori.
He knew Victoria was spoiled—he had played a large part in that. But could the love he had for her truly disappear in the blink of an eye?
No.
Yes.
No.
And that was his answer.
He had chosen her because he loved her. And he still did.
It hurt to see her in pain. But sometimes, people had to grow up.
Sadly, he was only realizing that now.
He had made her who she was.
All he ever wanted was to give her love—to grant her every wish, to shield her from the world's cruelty. But somehow, all his efforts had only brought her pain.
A heavy sigh escaped him as he ran a hand through his well-groomed hair. Where did I go wrong?
This couldn't continue.
The moment he returned to the palace, he would have a proper, mature discussion with her. No more excuses. No more indulgence.
It was time.
---
Matred stared at the ringing phone, irritation flickering in her eyes.
"What does he want now?"
The call ended, only to start ringing again immediately. Clearly, the caller had little to no patience. With a sigh, she picked up, already regretting it.
"Alaric."
"Matred… how are you doing today?"
"I'm good. What do you want?"
"You know, asking how I'm doing won't change your name, right?" His voice lacked its usual sarcasm, which made her pause.
She frowned. He didn't sound like himself. But they weren't close enough for her to ask. If their roles were reversed, though, she knew the shameless man would ask without hesitation.
Still, against her better judgment, she relented. "Fine. How are you?"
A brief silence, then, "I'm good, I—"
"What do you want, Alaric? It's one A.M., for crying out loud."
She had considered tolerating him, but that patience had burned out fast.
"It's been a week since I last heard from you," he complained. "You didn't call to let me know if you got home safely. I don't even know if you liked the date or if you want to do it again."
Matred blinked. Even Alaric seemed surprised by his own words. If Xavier had been around to hear that, he'd never let him live it down.
Matred inhaled deeply, holding her breath before exhaling slowly to calm herself.
"Yes, I got home safely. The food was good. Thank you. And no, I do not wish to do it again." She kept her voice neutral, firm.
She knew she was being blunt, maybe even rude, but she just couldn't bring herself to like him. Yes, he was handsome—too handsome for his own good—and yes, he was making an effort. But the cost of playing along was too high.
A long silence stretched between them. Then, his voice came quiet, almost resigned.
"Do you hate me that much?"
She hesitated. "Alaric, I—"
"Never mind, Matred. We'll talk some other time."
The line went dead before she could respond.
Matred stared at her phone, lips pressing into a thin line before she tossed it onto the bed.
"Asshole. Wakes me up in the middle of the night, only to hang up on me."
Muttering curses under her breath, she got up and headed for the kitchen. She might as well feed the monster in her stomach since her unwanted yet persistent alarm clock had done its job.
---
"Hey, you good?" Xavier asked, watching the smoking figure on the balcony.
Alaric stood there, clad in nothing but his sleeping clothes, the dim glow of his cigarette flickering against the night.
"Not now, Xavier."
The curt reply only deepened Xavier's concern. Alaric wasn't one to talk much, nor did he wear his emotions on his face. It made him damn near impossible to read. The only time he'd seen him open up, even slightly, was when he showed interest in that strawberry-blonde woman. But now, it seemed they were back to square one.
Xavier exhaled a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.
"Alright," he muttered before turning away, deciding to give him space.
Alaric only smoked when he was deeply troubled, which meant this conversation was far from over. But for now, Xavier would respect his request.
As much as they were friends, he couldn't forget that Alaric was the crown prince—their future emperor. Respect was a necessity.
---
"You two should get a room."
Akeeva's voice cut through the tense silence, pulling the two figures in the room back to reality. They had sensed her presence but were too preoccupied to care about her usual nagging.
She waited for a response. When none came, she pressed on. "How was it?"
That did the trick. Dante's sharp golden eyes snapped toward her, his overbearing aura thickening.
"It's taking longer than it should."
Akeeva stepped toward the pot bubbling over the fire, peering inside. The potion swirled sluggishly in the water—spreading, but far too slowly for comfort.
Not good.
Her brows furrowed. "Something's resisting it."
Dante's jaw clenched. "That much is obvious."
Akeeva sighed, rubbing her temples. "Then we better hope we have time before the heavens lose their patience."
"What do you think about this?"
"She tried breaking the bond," Adira said, her gaze darkening.
Arnold studied the incomplete formation before them. "She wasn't born in Arthandica."
Adira nodded. "Exactly. If she had been, this portion would have already filled." She pointed to the disrupted link with her right index finger.
Dante's eyes narrowed, his mind working quickly. "That means if this bond is struggling to take hold, not only was she not born in Arthandica, but she also hasn't accepted it as her home."
The high priestess gave him an approving look.
A heavy silence settled over them. If not Arthandica, then where?
"What do we do now?"
Akeeva's voice was firm. "Get me something of hers. Anything will do."
---
Ambrosia coughed, dark red blood staining her palm.
She wiped the trickle from her nostrils with the back of her hand, pushing herself up from her seat. Ignoring the dizziness creeping into her bones, she made a beeline for her spell room.
Something was wrong.
She didn't know what, but she felt it clawing at her essence. Someone was tampering with something that should never have been touched.
Settling before her magic ball, she exhaled slowly, focusing. The swirling mist inside pulsed, shifting to reveal the kingdom of Arthandica.
Her fingers curled into fists as another violent cough wracked her body, forcing up a clot of blood.
Someone was messing with her.
And they were going to regret it.
If—no, when—she found out that Victoria and her daughter were behind this?
She would make sure they forgot how to plead.
Nonsense.