Chapter 70

Third Person POV

Asher left while Sienna was in the bathroom, worried that he was only stressing her out more the longer he was there.

He had a few stops to make before the memorial, too, and he needed every extra second he could get.

So you choose to lie to your mate, then? his wolf growled, it’s objections ever clear.

I’m doing what’s best at this point.

This is not what’s best, his wolf snapped, its disappointment in Asher’s behavior coursing through him.

I was always going to have to reclaim my spot. It wasn’t something she would do with me, Asher defended himself, growing tired of these arguments with his wolf.

You say that, but you never gave her the chance to try with you.

Asher couldn’t respond to that, because his wolf was entirely right. But what could he really do about it now?

He set off from the Alpha house, unsure when — or if — he’d be back. A pang of sadness shot through him, because in a way, it felt like he was leaving one home to return to another, much colder one.

This was a big day.

And his plan was going to go flawless. It’s what he’d spent the last years preparing for — this very moment.

His uncle would be up on the podium, talking about the tragedy that he caused, the lives that he wrongfully took.

And Asher would walk up on the stage in front of them all.

A little while later, he arrived at the boutique — which was closed to the public for the day — where Lucas had prepared a new royal suit fit for his return as Prince Alaric. It was designed after his old attire when he was younger, the perfect look to take his rightful place back, straight out from beneath his uncle’s feet.

“Ready for the big day?” Lucas smiled, the tiniest hint of sadness in his eyes. He knew what this meant for Asher.

“I am and I’m not,” Asher chuckled, not bothering to hide his nerves. “It’s been a hell of a journey to get here.”

“Don’t you wish…that you had someone by your side?” So Lucas was team Sienna as well, apparently.

Everyone but Asher could see they had a connection that was worth fighting for.

“There’s still time for that.” Asher’s mind flitted to Mia, and the things Simon had told him.

A traitor.

He couldn’t have been more relieved that he hadn’t pursued things with her. The fact that Mia hadn’t even recognized him was surprising - he really did look like a completely new person.

What would she think when she found out the truth? He wasn’t sure he cared anymore. If she’d worked with the rogues to bomb Blackmoon, what else had she been helping them on?

And for how long?

He shook the thought off, turning his focus back to the memorial. People were already on their way there, surely, gathering in the square outside the royal castle, eager to hear his uncles extremely fake speech.

“The suit is perfect,” Lucas said, admiring his work as Asher stepped out from the dressing room in it. “You look like your old self…but better.”

“Certainly better,” Asher chuckled, the strings of his heart tugging in his chest at the sight of himself back in royal colors and designs.

“You deserve this. That place was always yours.” Lucas smiled, walking Asher back to the door, the closed sign blaring in big red letters.

“It won’t be the easiest fight to win.” Asher patted Lucas on the shoulder in thanks. “Thank you, my friend — the suit is perfect.”

With one last shake of his hand, Asher slipped out the door and took a less traveled path into the capital city, weaving his way towards the palace.

While the memorial was open to the public, the palace still greatly restricted who was actually allowed into the circle. Alphas were always admitted, but so many had stopped coming over the years.

Of course, Mia would be there. Lucius was supposed to attend, too, but Asher had kept missing him over the last few days.

Things felt extra tense around Lucius after all that had happened.

Asher paused a little ways back from the square, watching as people filed in. His eyes moved back to the palace in the distance, a bitter taste sitting in his mouth.

His uncle was in there, right now, preparing to blatantly and publicly lie to the whole world for the tenth year in a row.

Disgusting, Asher muttered to himself. If things went the way he planned, all of those lies were about to be revealed.

He descended down the hill towards the palace, standing straight, allowing himself to sink into the prince that had been buried for so long.

Through the gates he went, making his way through the crowd — which filled every last inch of space in the square, everyone herding towards the front, as close as they could get.

So eager to see a liar speak.

The truth is coming.

Asher made his way close to the front, a line of guards against the stage, others stationed up in the palace balconies and along every edge of the square.

And still, Asher would simply walk up on stage and interrupt it all.

He counted his last seconds as Asher Blake. His life had been one hell of a ride up until now, one dedicated to getting his rightful revenge.

Now, he would no longer have to hide. Not ever again.

The crowd silenced, pulling Asher from his walk down memory lane. His uncle was making his way out, and the moment he saw him, he couldn’t take his eyes off.

He hated that man with every fiber of his being. There was no way to stop the way his jaw clenched as his uncle stepped up in front of him, waving so pleasantly to the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming!” he bellowed out, his eyes crinkling at the edges, a fake smile at the corners of his lips. All a show, every last little bit of it.

Asher’s face was void of emotion, his old, cold self rising to the forefront of his soul as he watched his uncle greet the crowd.

“Today is a very sad and yet monumental day,” his uncle droned on, lie after lie after lie. “We mourn the loss of my brother and his son and all the other royal guard members who lost their lives ten years ago.”

Asher started bracing himself for his moment, which was only a few minutes away. His uncles words began to blend together, becoming unintelligible, a few stray words standing out to Asher now and again.

Tragedy, loss, devastation, honor.

“Oh, boy,” Asher muttered to himself, slipping his hand into his pocket to feel along the edges of his crown from so many years ago. It was so small to him now, but it was a symbol of his comeback.

He looked up at his uncle one more time, fed up with his lies.

It was now or never.

“Excuse me,” Asher called out, using his prince voice, the one that had been hiding for so long.

His uncles eyes cut to him, the panic unmissable.

Asher took a step forward, spinning to face the crowd.