The wolf's tormented howls were a chorus of agony that echoed through the castle, reaching the royal dining hall. Guests gasped in fear, and a few dropped their wine glasses as a commotion erupted from the direction of the courtyard. Seraphina, with a perfectly crafted look of concern, rose from her seat. "Oh dear," she said, her voice a theatrical whisper. "The wolf must have broken free."
Arion's face hardened with a mixture of fury and dread. He knew this was a trap. He was about to go to Evangeline when the doors to the banquet hall swung open. A breathless guard rushed in, his face pale with fear. "Your Majesty! The wolf...it has broken free!"
A few of the more cowardly nobles started screaming as Seraphina gave a subtle, venomous smirk. She knew the griffin would be next. The chaos was about to begin.
Meanwhile, Evangeline stood in the courtyard, her heart breaking for the suffering beast. The wolf, its eyes a furious green, had broken free of its cage, its body trembling with a mixture of pain and rage. Its rage wasn't aimed at the people but at the cage and the magic that had tormented it. It was lashing out blindly. Evangeline knew this pain. She had felt it herself. She held out her hand, her eyes flaring purple, sending a wave of calm and reassurance to the animal.
But it wasn't working. The magic that had been cast on the wolf was too powerful. It was a spell designed to block any connection to the wild, to make it a mindless, enraged beast. The wolf snarled, its fangs bared, and its body coiled to strike.
And just as the wolf lunged, a flash of black streaked across the courtyard. The little black cat, the one who had been her constant companion, seemed to blur in motion. It transformed, not into a shadow, but into a figure of pure light. The black fur dissolved into a cascade of dark, rich fabrics, and in its place stood a beautiful prince, his hair as black as midnight and his eyes as red as the ruby he had gifted her.
He was dressed in a beautiful prince's tunic, his movements as fluid as a river. With a swift, powerful strike to the wolf's head, he caused it to let out a low groan and pass out, its body finally at peace. He then turned to Evangeline, his red eyes filled with a searing, powerful light. He placed a hand on her waist, pulling her close, his touch possessive but protective. The sound of his heart beating was the only thing she could hear.
"Are you okay, Princess?" he asked, his voice a low, melodic rumble.
Evangeline could only stare at him, her mind unable to comprehend what she was seeing. He wasn't just a prince; he was a King. The ruler of the shadows, the untamed, the wild. The one who had given her a ruby. The one who had listened to her silent confessions. The one she had trusted.
*THE JEALOUSY OF KINGS *
Evangeline remained frozen, her mind a whirlwind of disbelief. The small, silent cat she had trusted with her secrets was not a beast but a prince. Her heart, so recently broken by Arion, now felt a new, strange beat—a mix of surprise, gratitude, and a tiny, blossoming hope. She looked at his face, the beautiful, sharp lines of his jaw, the dark hair, and the piercing ruby eyes that held her gaze. He had heard everything. He knew all her pain.
The cat prince, sensing her shock, respectfully pulled his hand from her waist. But the moment was not lost. From the entrance of the courtyard, Arion saw it all—the passed-out wolf, the stranger who had appeared from nowhere, and most importantly, his possessive, protective hand on Evangeline. A cold, furious jealousy flared in his chest, a feeling he hadn't known was possible.
Seraphina, seeing Arion's reaction, seized the opportunity. She wrapped her hand around his arm and pulled herself close, her face a picture of false distress. Arion, driven by a raw instinct to claim what was his, placed his hand on her waist, a public gesture that was meant to be seen. He then walked forward, a storm of fury brewing in his golden eyes, with Seraphina clinging to his side.
He didn't need to ask who the stranger was. He knew. He could feel the power radiating from the man, a power as ancient and untamed as his own. This was a rival, not just for a kingdom, but for the woman he had chosen.
"Who are you?" Arion asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He wasn't speaking to Evangeline; his eyes were fixed on the new prince.
The cat prince, in all his dark, magnificent glory, simply smiled. It was not a friendly smile, but a challenging one. "That is a question you should have asked your princess, Your Highness. We are already acquainted."
Evangeline watched the two of them, the man who had been her sanctuary and the man who had been her greatest betrayal. She was no longer a pawn. She was the center of a game between two powerful kings.
*THE CHOICE*
Evangeline's heart felt like an empty, hollowed-out shell. She saw Arion's hand on Seraphina's waist—a public claim, a statement of ownership. It was a mirror of her own pain, a silent confirmation that he had chosen to believe the lie. Her spirit, already battered and bruised, could no longer take the weight of his betrayal. She didn't have the strength to fight for a man who had already chosen another.
The cat prince, seeing the profound hurt in her eyes, extended his hand to her. It was a simple gesture, but it held a promise of sanctuary and understanding. It was a choice between the man who had abandoned her in her moment of need and the one who had watched over her in the shadows.
From a few feet away, Arion, seeing the gesture, instinctively extended his hand as well. "Evangeline," he said, his voice a low, pleading whisper. His eyes held a desperate plea for her to choose him, to choose their fated bond.
She looked at him, at the prince she had been promised to, the man who had promised to protect her. The beautiful golden eyes that had once held a glimmer of hope now held only the reflection of her pain. She couldn't do it. She couldn't pretend that his betrayal hadn't cut her to the core.
With a final, sad look, she turned her back on him. She slowly, deliberately, placed her hand in the cat prince's outstretched one. His skin was warm and comforting, and a sense of calm washed over her. It was a silent testament to her choice. She wasn't just choosing him; she was choosing herself. She was choosing to leave behind the pain and the betrayal and to step into the shadows with the one person who had truly seen her.
The cat prince, a silent, powerful figure, gave Arion a hard, meaningful look that spoke volumes. He had won this battle. He had won the princess. Arion's face twisted with a mixture of shock, rage, and a profound, agonizing jealousy. He had been so sure of his claim, so confident in his power, that he had never considered the possibility of losing her. But he had.