One week. One endless, agonizing week had passed since Evangeline's disappearance. Arion had torn the kingdom apart, leaving no stone unturned in his desperate search. He had hired every spy, every tracker, and every man of honor he could find, but they all came back with the same grim news: nothing. The ground had swallowed her whole.
Seraphina, seeing her opportunity, had wasted no time. She approached him, her face a picture of false pity, her voice a soft, sympathetic murmur. "Arion, my love, you have to accept the truth," she said, her hand resting on his arm. "She ran away. She's a wild thing. She was never meant to be a queen. She simply returned to the wild where she belongs."
Her words, once so easily believed, now felt like poison to him. He knew she was lying. He had seen the dart in the garden. He knew the depths of her malice. He had almost let his own arrogance get the best of him, but not this time. He would not be fooled.
As he sat alone in his office, a man consumed by a cold, quiet rage, a sudden flash of black appeared. The cat prince, Ezra, stood before him, his eyes filled with a grave, serious intensity.
"I need to tell you something," Ezra began, his voice a low, urgent rumble.
But he was too late. Before he could speak another word, Arion's fist, fueled by a week of sleepless nights and a profound, agonizing fear, shot out and connected with Ezra's jaw. The sound of the impact was a sharp, sickening thud. Ezra stumbled back, but he didn't fall. He simply touched his jaw, a trickle of blood running down his chin. He didn't fight back. He knew Arion's pain was too great.
Arion, breathing heavily, his hands balled into fists, advanced on him. "Is it you?" he yelled, his voice raw with a desperate, furious accusation. "Did you take her? Are you the one doing this too?"
He suspected them both now. Seraphina and Ezra. The two people who had so recently been his rivals for her heart. He was alone in this. He had been a fool once, but he would not be a fool again.