Chapter 110

THIRD PERSON POV

Isabelle’s mind raced furiously as she stormed through the palace, aimless, purposeless. All she knew was that she couldn’t be around her father a moment longer, not when he was saying such things to her.

The fact that he dared to prioritize Maeve over his own daughter—it was unfathomable.

The ultimate betrayal.

Before long, her feet led her down a blurred hallway to a seemingly random door that she was quick to throw open, disregarding anyone else who might’ve been inside.

Thankfully, the room—someone’s private study—appeared to be empty. Not a soul in sight, or even a sign that it was in the middle of being used. If her father was going to spout his nonsense in the garden, then she’d rather be in a place where he wouldn’t find her.

For the time being, this study was Isabelle’s solace.

“It’s not fair!” she hissed under her breath, throwing herself into the desk chair and burying her face in her arms. Frustrated tears streamed down her face as she balled her fists. “Why can’t she just leave me alone and get out of my life?!”

Her body was wracked with sobs. Angry. Abandoned by the only life she ever wanted.

And so, in one out of countless times within the last month, she felt utterly alone.

“… of course, there’s the matter of that damn bear…”

The moment she heard that familiar voice, muffled behind layers of walls and doors, Isabelle lifted her wary head, her breath catching in her throat.

Someone was coming.

Someone she wanted—needed—to see.

Now it dawned on her why she was drawn to this room. Because she knew who it belonged to.

Within seconds, she could hear the sound of footsteps against the polished palace floors. One of whom walked with a sturdiness and confidence that she could recognize anywhere. A familiar woodsy scent floated through the air, growing stronger as the footsteps drew closer.

Immediately, she launched herself to her feet, the chair screeching against the floorboards as she pushed it back, and ran for the door.

It swung open, making way for two men, deep in conversation.

“… I think it’d be best for you to—”

“Oof—!”

Henry grunted, startled by the apparent surprise attack that had been waiting in his office, but managed to catch himself before he could stumble backward. His confusion only deepened when he finally registered it was none other than his wife, Isabelle, who had practically thrown herself at him, burrowing into his chest.

His prime beta, Garrick, had no idea how to react to the scene before him. “Y-Your Highness?”

“Isabelle,” Henry pressed. “What—”

“Don’t send me away!” she demanded, sounding like a child. “I need you!”

Henry’s patience was quickly running thin. He was too busy to deal with her hysterics. He was prepared to tell her to leave… that was, until he felt droplets of water seep into his shirt, followed by the sound of Isabelle sniffling.

She was… crying?

Slowly, his arms wrapped around her back, unsure how to respond to his mate’s sudden outburst.

Sensing the underlying tension, Garrick let out an awkward cough. “Shall I—ah… give you two some privacy?”

Henry hesitated. With the lunar banquet over, he had quite a bit of work to catch up on, especially when it came to his campaign for the throne and, oh, did he have his work cut out for him.

Xaden’s showy display of dragging in the hulking corpse of a bear was unforeseen and… frustratingly brilliant, which meant Henry had to find other ways to make himself stand out. There was so much to be done, and he had a million ideas that he was eager to work through as soon as possible.

And yet, the sensation of Isabelle trembling with emotion in his arms made him take pause.

She was dramatic and certainly trying at times… but in the end, she was still his mate.

Henry glanced at his beta. “I’ll fetch you when I’m done,” he said, dismissing him with a brisk nod.

Once they were alone in the privacy of Henry’s study, he let his arms settle more comfortably, more securely around her heaving body. “Alright, now let’s try that again. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Henry, I—I can’t take it anymore!”

He frowned. “Isabelle, I need you to be more specific. What on earth is the problem?”

“Everything!” she bawled, squeezing her fingers almost painfully into his thick, lavish blazer, but he hardly flinched at the sensation. “I feel like everyone hates me! Like I don’t have a place here anymore!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is your home.”

“It is!” she repeated, impassioned, fervent, as she abruptly pulled away to face him. “I know it is! But she’s pushing me out and taking everything away from me!”

“Who?” he questioned sternly. “If any of the omegas—”

“That witch your brother is infatuated with!” Isabelle spat, her blue eyes almost glowing as her fists balled at her mate’s chest.

Wait…

Xaden’s girl?

At that, Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Her again?” he questioned, exasperated, his arms beginning to fall ever so slightly. “What has she done this time?”

Isabelle didn’t seem to catch the curt tone in his voice. She was too busy pulling away so she could continue pacing around the room.

“What hasn’t she done?” she countered with a scoff, wiping angrily at her wet cheeks. “Now she’s somehow hooked her claws into my own father—like she needs the extra attention!”

Henry bit the inside of his cheek, shifting his weight as he stood. “She’s… stealing your dad?”

“He’s never even held a conversation with her in all the years we’ve known her, and all of a sudden, now that she’s at the palace, he wants to know everything about her! It—It’s like she’s emitting a pheromone that seduces every single wolf she comes across!”

Was this really what she’d thrown herself at him for? To whine about this girl?

“… Don’t you think it’s much more reasonable to think he’s just trying to be welcoming?” he suggested. The thought of Maeve, timid and innocent, scheming behind everyone’s backs almost made him snort. “As if she’s capable of such deception.”

She frowned at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Why should I? It’s laughable, is what it is. I mean, honestly—she’s no one special. Just a girl my brother was reckless enough to knock up. Your father probably pities her more than anything.”

Isabelle’s face twisted with displeasure.

“You just don’t get it!” she shouted, and before Henry could even consider saying something in response, she stormed out of the room.

And, at that moment, Henry found himself muttering a question Isabelle had repeated many a time before. One he meant not in anger, but rather from confusion because he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around it, no matter how often he was confronted by it.

“What is the big deal with this girl?”

“And where are you going at this hour?”

Burton held back a sigh, peering behind him in the gold-framed mirror of his en-suite bathroom.

The kingdom was shrouded with the glow of the sunset, and he was in the middle of getting ready for tonight—for what was perhaps one of the most crucial dinners in his entire life—when his wife appeared, wearing a black floor-length nightgown and looking terribly cross. They’d hardly spoken to each other since their last little spat, since all they seemed to do nowadays was quarrel.

Unless it pertained to the pack, she seemed to want nothing to do with him.

But nothing could hide that inquisitive glint in her sharp amber eyes.

“I’m having dinner at Dawnguard Pride tonight,” he said, buttoning up his black, silk dress shirt. “So, don’t bother waiting for me.”

Victoria’s arms crossed over her chest. “Eager to meet with your business partner?”

He pressed his lips together in a tense line. As far as he was concerned, she was completely unaware of the details of his dealings with Kenneth, and he was determined to keep it that way.

This was his mess, and he needed to clean it from his hands as seamlessly as possible.

“For your information,” Burton muttered, “Maeve and Prince Xaden will be there, too. Kenneth intends to welcome her to high society.”

“He what?”

In an instant, she was at his side, her gaze penetrating deeply into the side of his head, although he did nothing to acknowledge her. He continued to fasten the buttons, one by one, before slowly smoothing his hands over the fabric on his chest.

This night needed to go well, and he was determined to ensure every single detail was nothing less than perfect, down to each wrinkle.

And down to each guest that was permitted to attend.

“I want to go with you,” she demanded.

Even if it meant his own wife wouldn’t be able to attend.

“You—” Burton said, dipping his fingers into a container of hair gel, thick and blue, and combing it through his black hair, “are to stay here, doing what you’re told to do, while I attend the dinner and try to win Maeve over.”

She inhaled sharply, seeping with indignation. “And why not? If you’re going, I deserve to be there, too.”

“Your presence is not needed.”

Victoria let out a harsh scoff. “Isn’t she supposed to be my daughter, too?” she retorted, throwing his earlier words back at him. “Whatever happened with that?”

He was slow to respond, but she caught the subtle movement of his jaw working.

“I find it very interesting,” he remarked, tinged with a tone that irritated her to the core, “that you only ever willingly choose to play that card when you want something. Which, I suppose begs the question, my dear Luna.” He tossed a glance at her over his shoulder. “What do you hope to achieve by attending tonight’s dinner?”

Victoria smiled inwardly. Wouldn’t he like to know…

“Am I not supposed to be keeping up the charade that I love and miss my oh-so-cherished eldest child?” she prompted instead, while he wiped his hands clean on a nearby towel. “Would it not send the wrong message when I’m not attending this dinner simply to see her?”

“We’re way beyond sending the wrong message,” he said with a dark chuckle, tossing the towel aside and sauntering out of the bathroom, with Victoria following closely behind. “And this is not a grand banquet—it’s a small dinner with Kenneth, Maeve, the prince, and myself.”

She opened her mouth to counter again, when he cut her off.

“—Which makesthis all the more important.” He gave her a pointed look. “My focus is not to impress scores of useless, unimportant commoners, but two of the most powerful and influential alphas in the entire kingdom. Nothing can go wrong tonight.”

The words he dared not say aloud hung between them like a dense fog.

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You really do not trust me at all,” she said, not bothering to clarify.

Why even bother asking when she knew, without a doubt, that was what he believed?

“Victoria—” he sighed, exasperated, whirling around to face her. “Trust me when I say that the sake of our family—and our entire livelihood—hinges on what happens tonight.”

She was well aware of that fact. And that was why she wanted so desperately to be there.

To watch it all unfold, and to know with gleaming satisfaction that Maeve’s fantastical life would soon be coming to a close.

“So it does,” she mumbled scornfully.

And, as per usual, I have no choice but to comply with your wishes.

Nostrils flaring, Victoria turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving her husband to his own devices.

He never used to be like this. He used to be majestic, awe-inspiring, formidable—everything those alpha princes were renowned for, and more. There was once a time when she believed he could take on the entire world and still be left standing strong, with ambition gleaming in his glorious features.

Now… he was little more than a shell of the alpha he used to be.

Not even that. Because the Burton she once loved never would’ve let another alpha minister walk all over him the way Kenneth was.

And it was all because of her.

“I’ll loathe you, Maeve,” she muttered to herself, “for the rest of my days. And when you finally get what’s coming to you, I yearn to never think of you again.”