Page 15 of A Reign of Malice
Time will do more thantell. It will reveal. And when it does, I’ll be ready.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SLOANE
Two more days have passed since that dinner with Aeson, and each minute within these walls has only made this place more of a puzzle. The pull to the runes lingers at the edges of my consciousness, a quiet hum in my bones that never quite fades. My wolf has grown restless, pacing within me, her claws raking against my control. She wants out, wants to seek what calls to us, but I keep her contained.
Aeson has kept a closer eye on me, though he’s far too clever to make it obvious. It’s in the way he lingers in the corridors when I least expect it. The way his eyes flick toward me in conversation, like he’s trying to decipher something just out of his reach. My questions at dinner unsettled him, but I don’t think it was in a bad way. If anything, he seems intrigued.
He thinks I might be more than he could’ve ever wished.
It’s almost amusing how wrong he is.
We’ve spoken of how large and powerful our kingdom will be as of next week when we’re bonded, how we need all the other alpha kings and queens present to witness ourcombined strength. All of it has me internally gagging, but I keep my grin in place, feigning excitement like this is the grandest of ideas.
But my patience is wearing thin. It’s time for me to figure out how to get into the lower levels of the castle—with Clara’s help.
With Aeson scheduled to be outside the castle this morning, Clara and I move quickly through the dim corridors of the southern wing, our footsteps muffled against the polished wooden floors. The early hour means most of the castle’s staff are either preparing for their morning duties or still in their private quarters, almost ensuring we won’t be disturbed.
The lights along the walls flicker, casting elongated shadows that stretch and twist like specters in the dark. The bare walls feel almost mocking, providing no information about the history of the Venaris lineage, like most castle hallways.
“This place has too many gods-damned corridors,” Clara mutters beside me, her voice low but edged with frustration. “It’s like a maze.”
I exhale sharply, suppressing the growing impatience curling in my gut. “I assume that’s the point considering the secrets that seem to be buried in these walls. Literally.”
Clara glances over at me, her expression hard to read. “If we come face-to-face with a monster, and not a prisoner, don’t be surprised if I let him eat you first.”
I allow my grin to break through. “Noted.”
As we descend another short set of stairs, the air thickens around us. It’s not a physical thing, not something I can see, but rather something Ifeel. The magic saturating this part of the castle is dense, like an unseen mist winding through the halls, searching for escape yet unable to leave.My wolf stirs at the sensation, pressing forward against my control.
I let her rise just enough to refine my senses. The pulse of power strengthens instantly, vibrating in my chest like a second heartbeat.
We’re close.
The hallway curves to the right, and finally, there are paintings on the stone walls. Not many and completely out of place considering they’re hidden in this alcove, not displayed proudly in the open. My shoulders tense as I look around, stepping more slowly.
There are six altogether. Most of them are smaller, landscape pieces showing the twin moons and the forest in all their glory, but there are two oversized paintings, one on the left and the other on the right.
My gaze travels over each one but lingers longest on the one to my left. It’s an oil piece, depicting the kingdom as it must’ve looked centuries ago—its banners flying high, sentries patrolling outer walls that no longer exist, the castle looming in the background like an eternal guardian.
But something about it feels…off.
Clara steps closer, peering at it with narrowed eyes. “This doesn’t match the rest of the castle’s décor. The frame is almost brittle, too old, too…” She raises her head, fingers ghosting over the gilded frame. “Deliberate. Like no one would dare touch this for fear of damaging the stunning art.”
I press my palm to the canvas, feeling the texture of the dried paint beneath my fingertips, moving slowly toward the edge until the wood casing brushes my skin. Sharp tingles cut into my skin, but when I pull my hand back, there are no marks.
Reaching for it again, I ignore the bite of pain and lift the picture away from the wall to peek behind it.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if you break it and then someone knows we’ve been here?” Clara asks, but I ignore her.
The stones start to glow as soon as they’re revealed.
“Help me get this down,” I demand, more eager than I probably should be to uncover whatever secrets are being held here.
“As you wish, my queen.” Clara’s formal tone has me pausing, but when I look over at her, she’s grinning.
Sometimes I wonder why I’ve kept her as my advisor for so long, but the thought never lasts long.
