Page 26 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

The door trembles in the aftershock of Trey’s departure, the silence thickening around us as we try to figure out what just happened.

Gannon’s jaw tightens as he turns toward Clarice, the lines etched on his brow deepening with concern. “Did you know that?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clarice, her hands pause mid-wipe on the already spotless counter, meets Gannon’s gaze. She shrugs.

“I knew he was from the Landeena Kingdom, and was in the castle. But I thought he was a guard,” she says.

Her fingers resume their work, brushing invisible crumbs into her palm, each sweep a methodical attempt to order the chaos that had erupted in her kitchen.

Gannon’s fists clench at his sides, the veins in his forearms standing out like cords as he turns sharply on his heel. With a purpose that silences any residual murmurs from the other staff present, he makes for the door, his steps heavy and deliberate.

“I’m finding his documents,” he growls over his shoulder, not bothering to glance back at us.

He pauses, just before crossing the threshold into the foyer, his profile etched against the dim light filtering through the windows. “Mindlink the King and get him back here,” he says to Dustin.

“What? Why?” I ask, my confusion knitting my brows together. I know Azalea will get in trouble with Kyson for commanding her guard.

“Because, if Trey is indeed pact oathed to the Landeenas,” Gannon’s voice echoes back to me, “that means someone else in the castle was poisoning her.”

The severity of his words settles in my stomach like lead. All this time, their suspicions were misguided, pointing fingers at the wrong person while the true culprit lurked unnoticed. Which means Azalea is once again in danger.

“And we have been looking at the wrong person all this time,” he finishes before walking out.

Chapter

Seventeen

AZALEA

The absence of footsteps trailing mine acts as both a balm and a burden, the silence calming me and allowing me to think clearly. But I also know my taking off will infuriate Kyson, which as worrisome as that is, I also don’t care. Bursting through the heavy doors that lead to the castle gardens, the hinges groan in protest at my haste. A gust of air greets me, cool and crisp, carrying with it the rich scent of earth and blossoming life. It feels akin to taking that initial deep breath after breaking through the water’s surface when having nearly drowned, the fresh air filling my lungs and dispelling the stifling atmosphere off. My pace slows as I wander down the gravel path, each stone softly crunching beneath my shoes.

I let my fingers trail along the velvety petals of roses as I pass, their blooms a burst of color against the forest backdrop that surrounds this place. Yet even their beauty can’t distract from the frustration I feel. Secrets. They were trying to protect me, perhaps, but protection feels too much like caging.

Drawing in another deep breath, I exhale slowly, letting the tension seep out of my shoulders.

That’s when I feel it—the intrusive touch of Kyson’s thoughts brushing against my mind as he opens the mindlink.

‘Kyson, not now,’I snap, clenching my fists as I push back against the mindlink.

To my surprise, his presence retreats as swiftly as a wave pulling back from the shore. It feels empowering, knowing I can shove him out with such ease when fueled by anger.

My gaze drifts across the expanse of green, settling on the fruit trees standing in neat rows, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. There is Peter, working alongside the gardener, reaching up to pluck fruits with practiced ease.

As if sensing my presence, Peter glances up, and his face lights up with an excited grin. He waves, his arm cutting through the air with boyish enthusiasm. I return the gesture, feeling a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the turmoil that clouded my thoughts.

“Hey!” he greets, jogging over with an energy that seems to make the very ground beneath him come alive. In a few long strides, he closed the distance between us, enveloping me in a hug that is both unexpected and strangely comforting. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in days,” he says, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes with genuine concern.

“Want to help pick fruit with us?” he asks, and I look around. I want to get as far away from the castle grounds as I am allowed.

“Na. Do you want to go for a walk with me? I am hiding from my guards,” I chuckle. Peter looks over at the gardener, who shrugs and waves him off.

“Where do you want to walk?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “We could walk by the river. It is pretty high at the moment from the floods upstream coming down it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I am not fond of water,” I tell him.

“Oh, well, we could go to the stables. I am supposed to clean out the stables today but got hauled up to help pick bloody fruit.”

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