[Afternoon]
[Ovelia's POV]
We had just emerged from the dense forest, the sunlight breaking through the canopy to bathe the green plains in a warm, golden glow. The air was fresh, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and earth. Beneath the shade of a massive tree, we found the perfect spot to rest and enjoy lunch. The soft grass beneath us felt like a natural cushion, and the gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, creating a soothing melody.
Ann had prepared a delicious spread—rice, chicken fillet, fish, pancakes, and tarts—and we sat together, savoring the meal. The atmosphere was light, but I could feel the lingering tension from the earlier encounter with the werewolf bandits. It hung in the air like a shadow, unspoken but present.
"Ann, for the duration of this journey, I need you to stop using our titles. No 'Lady,' no 'Sir.'" Ace said, reaching for a piece of chicken fillet. His tone was playful, but there was a seriousness behind his words. He glanced at Ann, his silver eyes softening as he added, "Consider it part of the disguise. After that encounter, anonymity is our best armor. If we meet anyone, you can call me 'A.' Ray can be 'R.'"
Ann hesitated, her lips parting as if to protest, but Ray interrupted her with a calm yet firm tone. "Ace is right. We need to keep our identities hidden. We're too well-known as the first and second princes of the Silverhowl Kingdom. Using nicknames will help us blend in."
Ann nodded in agreement, though I could see the reluctance in her eyes. She was used to the formalities, the structure of titles and respect. But she understood the necessity of the situation.
As we continued eating, a question began to form in my mind, one that had been nagging at me since the encounter with the werewolves. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to voice it.
"Everyone," I said, catching their attention. They turned to me, their expressions curious but attentive. "Can I ask something?"
"Sure," they replied in unison, their voices overlapping in a chorus of encouragement.
I took a steadying breath, my fingers tracing the edge of my wooden plate. "When I was a child, I read a book. It said that every twenty years, human women are given as sacrifices to werewolves. To become mates or wives. All in the name of… peace." I paused, studying their faces. Ray's expression had gone carefully neutral. Ace's jaw tightened slightly. Ann looked down at her hands. "I always believed peace meant harmony. An end to conflict. Understanding." My voice grew quieter, trembling with a sadness I couldn't suppress. "But earlier, I heard a werewolf talk about selling beautiful humans at auction. And on my wedding day, a black werewolf tried to kill me. So I have to ask… does that peace… does it truly exist? Between humans and werewolves?"
The weight of my words hung in the air, the silence stretching as they absorbed the gravity of my concerns. The breeze seemed to still, as if even nature was holding its breath.
"That's—" Ace started, his voice sharp with a defensive edge, but Ray held up a hand, silencing him.
"It existed... but it's not the peace you were hoping for," Ray said, sighing as he reached for a pancake. His mood was heavy, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a solemn seriousness.
"But… the sacrifices have happened for generations—and now I am one of them," I murmured, my own food turning to ash in my mouth. I focused on the tart on my plate, unable to bear looking at their faces, fearing I'd see confirmation of a hopeless truth.
I chanced a glance. Ann's expression was one of profound sorrow. Ray's was etched with grim acceptance. Ace's was a storm of frustration and guilt. The air between us grew thick with unspoken history.
"You cannot understand why we cling to the word unless you know how it started," Ray said, his voice low. He poured himself a cup of juice, the liquid a cheerful amber that contrasted starkly with his mood.
When he'd finished eating, he shifted, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked like a man bracing himself to recount a tragedy. "Long ago, humans were unaware of our existence. We lived peacefully, never transforming into our werewolf forms; we only blended with humans, existing in secret. But then, rumors began to swirl—one about a werewolf killing an innocent old woman. Her lifeless body was discovered near the Shadow Pack Kingdom. That was the moment humans realized werewolves existed. Fear spread like wildfire, igniting a war that claimed the lives of many. The hatred between humans and werewolves passed from generation to generation."
Ray's brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes distant, seeing scenes from stories told to him as a child. "Generations later, a human king—Alfred Amber the Fifth of the Amethyst Kingdom—looked at the strength of the united werewolf packs and saw only an endless river of blood for his people. In desperation, he went to the kings of the four great packs: Silverhowl, Crimsonheart, Atlassian, and Shadow. His proposal was this: every twenty years, human villages would offer a daughter. But in return, the next heir of each werewolf kingdom must marry a human. A tribute. A… living treaty. In exchange, the open war would end." He let the blade of grass fall. "Most of the Alpha Kings, sick of the slaughter, sick of burying their own, reluctantly agreed. And by the will of the Moon Goddess, the bond was sealed—the moment an heir is born, his fated mate is chosen among the human daughters of that generation."
A hollow silence followed. The weight of that reluctant agreement, that grim bargain, settled over our little group.
Ann gaze fixed on the distant tree line, "The word 'peace' is just a mask to end the war between kingdoms." Her voice was thick with personal grief. "Despite the sacrifices made for this so-called peace, many humans and werewolves still seek revenge. This cycle pauses but never truly ends."
Ace nodded, his fist clenched on his knee. "Because of the sacrifices, some werewolves have found their fated mates among the human women. That twisted fact is what lets people call it a 'bridal sacrifice.' But the ugly truth?" His voice turned hard. "If a human is not a fated mate, her fate is far worse. She becomes a slave. A toy. My father has argued before the other Alphas to end the practice. But they refuse. They say without the tribute, without that symbol, the thin veneer of calm would shatter completely, and the war would begin anew."
A deep, shuddering sigh escaped me. "So the peace… it isn't for resolution. It's only to keep the hatred from boiling over completely. It's a lid on a pot that's always about to bubble over."
"Yes," Ace replied, his voice grim. He picked up a tart but didn't eat it, just turned it over in his fingers. "That is the truth."
"What about witches?" I asked, seizing on the other thread of mystery. "Ann said they are real."
"And elves," Ace added, his tone shifting, becoming dismissive, almost guarded. "They exist too. But that… is a different story altogether." He clearly had no wish to elaborate.
But the mere mention of elves sent a jolt of pure, undiluted wonder through me. Other races, other magics… the world was so much vaster than Timberline or the palace.
Ray, trying to lighten the mood, exclaimed, "Ahhh, I'm so full! That food was delicious!" His voice was overly cheerful, an almost forced attempt to shift the somber atmosphere. It was clear he had finished his meal long before the others.
"Indeed, the food was amazing. Thank you, Ann," I chimed in, wanting to support Ray's attempt at changing the subject.
"It's always my pleasure," Ann smiled warmly, though her eyes still held a hint of sadness. Then she turned to me with a more serious tone, "Before I forget, lady Ovelia, it's time to tend to your arm."
As her voice softened, a wave of warmth enveloped the table, momentarily casting aside the shadows of our plight.
Instead of feeling pity for the human women who sacrificed themselves for the peace between humans and werewolves—like me—I felt grateful and proud of their bravery. They faced their fate head-on, striving to lessen the hatred between our kinds.
Ann retrieved the medical kit from inside the wagon and approached me, her brow furrowed in concentration. She rolled up my left sleeve and carefully removed the bandage.
"You heal incredibly fast. The last time I saw that wound, it was severe; the estimated healing time was a month. But now, I believe it'll be completely healed in just a week," Ray exclaimed, a look of disbelief crossing his face.
"I think so too," Ace chimed in, his mouth full as he savored the last bite of his meal.
"But you still smell human, Ovelia," Ray pointed out, a teasing glint in his eyes.
"I don't know why I heal so fast," I said, offering a small, self-conscious smile. "Perhaps my body simply grew accustomed to recovering from bruises and breaks in Timberline. It learned to mend itself quickly."
For a moment, I focused and tried to talk to Lady Firera mentally. "Lady Firera, is it because of you that my wounds heal so quickly?"
"No, you were born that way," Lady Firera replied in my mind, her voice calm but firm.
"Is it because my family can cast spells?" I asked mentally, but she didn't answer.
After our meal, Ann began to tidy up, and I joined her in cleaning the dishes. Once we finished, we hopped back into the wagon and continued our journey.
[Ace's POV]
I remember this road; it splits into two paths, one leading to Timberline Village. The thought of Ovelia's village stirred something in me—a mix of curiosity and dread.
I turned to her, my voice gentle but probing. "Ovelia, I've never set foot in your village. I only made it to the entrance on sacrifice day. Could you tell me what life is like there?"
She turned to me, her red eyes thoughtful, seeing a place I could not. "It's… simple," she began, a soft, nostalgic smile touching her lips. "We don't have money. There's no need. We grow what we eat, share what we have. If the Amethyst Kingdom's envoys visit, they might bring new seeds for fruits or vegetables. Everyone works. No one hoards. What one family cultivates, the whole village shares. The animals belong to everyone. We have a river, full of fish. So, whether it's drought or rain… we never truly went hungry." Her voice was full of a poignant fondness for the community, even as it was laced with the pain of her own place within it.
As she spoke, I could see joy in her eyes, tinged with a hint of sadness. It was the first time I'd ever heard of a village where money didn't exist and unity thrived. My curiosity about Timberline Village grew.
"Ray, I want to visit Timberline Village," I declared, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I needed to see the place that had hurt her, to understand what she'd endured.
"As you command, Your Highness," Ray replied with an exaggerated bow and a chuckle, his eyes glinting. He always saw through me.
But it was Ovelia's reaction that struck me. Her head snapped toward me, her eyes wide with shock, then clouded with something like dread.
"I… I have no reason to go back," she said quietly. The words were final, a door she had closed and locked.
I offered her a reassuring smile. Yet inside, I was a tempest of emotions, torn between curiosity and dread. How would I feel when I finally met Ovelia's parents? Would my wolf be overwhelmed by rage and a desire for revenge because they had hurt my mate, or would I find myself filled with gratitude and understanding instead? The question lingered, unanswered, as we continued our journey.