Page 107 of Bonds of Pain
“The Spring Palace,” Logan replies, adjusting his immaculate uniform. Unlike me, he looks refreshed despite yesterday’s brutal fight. Only the faint bruising around his eye hints at what he endured. “Home of the royal women. My sisters are eager to meet you.”
The car turns onto a winding path lined with cherry trees in full bloom. Pink petals drift across our windshield, a delicate counterpoint to the heaviness in my limbs.
“Why are we visiting them?” I take a sip of water, grateful for its coolness against my parched throat.
“The photoshoot,” Ares chimes in from the front passenger seat, glancing back at me. “Belinda’s exclusive, remember?”
Of course. I promised myself to focus on survival, not on the crawling shame that threatens to overwhelm me whenever I think of yesterday.
As we pull up to the gates, I notice something unusual—all the guards are female. Tall, muscular women in royal uniforms stand at attention, their expressions professional but wary as our car approaches.
“Female Alphas,” I murmur, surprised.
Logan nods. “The Spring Palace has always been protected by women. Tradition dating back to my great-grandmother’s time.”
The palace itself is breathtaking—smaller than the main royal residence but more elegant, with graceful spires and walls of pale pink stone. Gardens stretch in every direction, bursting with spring flowers and carefully tended trees.
As we exit the car, I notice how the female guards watch Logan and the other men with undisguised suspicion. One particularly imposing guard steps forward to greet us, her hand resting casually on her weapon.
“Prince Logan,” she says with a curt nod. “The Queen Mother is expecting you.”
Logan’s posture shifts subtly—a tightening of his shoulders, a forced quality to his smile. “Captain Reyes. It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough for some,” she replies, her gaze sweeping over our group dismissively.
As we follow her through the palace gates, Logan falls into step beside me. “The Spring Palace has traditionally been considered a refuge for the female members of the royal family,” he explains quietly. “I wouldn’t be allowed to set foot on these grounds if my grandmother hadn’t specifically permitted it.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“History,” he says with a shrug. “Not all royal marriages were happy ones. This place became a sanctuary where royal women could escape... difficult situations. The Queen Mother has absolute authority here.”
I absorb this information as we walk through courtyards filled with fountains and flowering trees. Unlike the main palace with its imposing stone and formal gardens, everything here feels deliberately gentle, almost ethereal.
Captain Reyes leads us through a series of elegant hallways until we reach a sunlit conservatory. Inside, a group of women watch our arrival. I recognize Logan’s sisters from photos—three young women with varying shades of his same golden eyes and proud bearing.
But my attention is immediately drawn to the older woman seated in their midst. Slim and regal with silver-streaked dark hair, she radiates authority without moving a muscle. The Queen Mother.
“Grandmother,” Logan greets her with a formal bow. “May I present Maya Tantamount, my bonded mate.”
The Queen Mother’s piercing gaze fixes on me, assessing everything from my posture to the pendant at my throat. I expect coldness, judgment—the typical aristocratic disdain.
Instead, she smiles, warm and genuine. “So this is the Omega who has captivated my grandson.” She extends her hand. “Welcome to the Spring Palace, child.”
I step forward to take her hand, surprised by the strength in her grip. Up close, I see intelligence and a hint of mischief in eyes so like Logan’s. There’s something else too—a shrewdness that suggests she sees more than she reveals.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I reply, executing the curtsy I’ve practiced a thousand times.
“None of that here,” she says with a dismissive wave. “This is a place where titles matter less than character. Call me Eleanora.”
One of Logan’s sisters—barely a teenager, but obviously Omega—steps forward with an eager smile. “We’ve heard so much about you! Is it true that you rejected Logan, and he spent a year pining for you? That’s so romantic!”
I raise my eyebrows at that. Just how sheltered from the world to these baby royals get to be? I already knew that the daughters of high-ranked Alphas rarely get sent to the Enclave, but I didn’t think that meant they were protected from knowing anything about how things really work.
Logan clears his throat. “Perhaps we should begin the tour before the photographer arrives.”
“Oh, hush,” Eleanora says, waving him off. “The girls have been dying to meet someone who might finally put you in your place.”
As Logan’s sisters surround me, peppering me with questions, I catch his expression—a mixture of exasperation and something that might almost be pride. Cillian watches from the doorway, a faint smile playing at his lips.
