Chapter 176

The court erupted into chaos; concerned shouts and confused questions filled the air. Their world felt like it was tilting on its axis. Ottai and Vladya hurried outside. Alarm was already spreading beyond the court, the people shouting as they caught sight of the beast.

“Do you think he’s gone…?” Ottai’s voice faltered as he ran.

“No,” Vladya snapped. “I think he was summoned.”

“Summoned?” Ottai parroted, bewildered. “What in cruel fates does that mean!?”

They sprinted down the winding stairs, bursting into the courtyard where a throng of people had gathered. All eyes were fixed on the towering entrance gates, flung open by the beast’s hasty departure. There was no way they could catch him unless they shifted into their beast forms. And even then, given the grand king's sheer speed, their chances were slim.

Vladya skidded to a halt, a contemplative frown furrowing his brow. Ottai, too, was trying to make sense of the situation, but nothing about it seemed logical.

“This is not the time to be vague, Vladya. You said summoned?”

“Yes, summoned. Called upon. Whichever term you prefer,” Vladya said reluctantly.

Ottai spluttered. “Do you believe this? First of all, no one can ‘summon’ our grand king. Secondly, for him to react this way? No kind of summons could do that. No one has that kind of power. Not the elders, not the Oracle, and even if they could, both are still in deep sleep. Which leaves no one with sufficient power to even attempt it.”

“His Soulbond can. His Soulbond called out to him.” In a near-whisper, Vladya added, “What the hell was she thinking?” before walking away.

Ottai stood rooted to the spot, too shocked to move. His eyes followed Vladya, who was trying to calm the growing panic among the people. Even as Ottai saw Zaiper hurrying towards them with the grand king’s bloodhost in tow, Ottai remained dumbfounded.

Soulbond? Did Vladya just imply what Ottai thought he'd heard? Soulbond…? His mind repeated the word incessantly. A concept so foreign, so rare, it was inconceivable. Unbelievable.

“It’s your fault, Ottai,” he muttered. “Next time, do not ask for explanations from a male battling feral madness.”

With that self-reassuring thought, Ottai dismissed the ridiculous notion. He joined the other grand lords in their efforts to quell the unrest. Would the beast return? Did it go on a killing spree? Is Daemonikai feral again? The questions swirled in Ottai’s mind. If one can be cured of feral madness, could they relapse? Ottai was terrified, utterly terrified.

EMERIEL

“Give me the damn torch,” one of the masked assassins snatched the flickering flames from another, turning to Emeriel. “I’m afraid this is your end.”

“The fact that you’re hiding your true identity and spending time with him is simply unacceptable. He even shared his heat with you,” M said, disgusted. “You reek of him so much that if we closed our eyes, we’d think it was our king we had tied up. We can’t allow someone like you to keep roaming around him.”

He hurled the torch into the pile of wood at her feet. Flames licked greedily at the dry kindling, spreading rapidly. The assassins stepped back, watching with cold detachment and satisfaction.

“Take it out! Take out the light!” The ropes cut into Emeriel’s arms, pain radiating through her body. Yet she fought against her bindings with all her strength. The fire was spreading, the heat intensifying. She could feel it against her feet, the flames drawing closer. Would King Daemonikai even come for her? It was always the beast who answered her calls; now the grand king had returned—would he care enough to save her? I’m going to die. Gods, I’m going to die here! Her thoughts spiraled in chaotic terror. Where had they taken her? Which cave were they in? Even if the king answered her silent plea, could he reach her in time if they were too far—

A deafening roar split the air. So loud, so powerful, Emeriel felt it in every fiber of her being.

“What was that?” one asked fearfully. They all looked around, searching for the source of the sound.

“Not what. Who,” another choked out.

A massive beast stood at the cave entrance, dominating the entryway.

“Holy shit. The grand king?” G stumbled backward. “How is that possible? How did he know about—”

The beast moved with a speed that defied its size, its tail bristling with sharp spines sweeping forward, scattering the firewood and sending flames skittering across the floor. It halted for a heartbeat in front of Emeriel’s stunned face, then coiled around the ropes binding her. With a quick tug, the ropes snapped, freeing her arms and legs. Her captors barely had time to react before the beast charged, a blur of motion. The first male didn't have time to scream before the beast's claws separated his head from his shoulders. The second was almost at the entrance when the beast's tail snagged him, dragging him back like a ragdoll.

“Please, plea—” he began, but the beast caught him midair, snapped his spine, and discarded his lifeless body. The third assassin’s desperate plea was cut short as the beast crushed his body against the cave wall, the sound of snapping bones following. The remaining assassins shifted into their beast forms, their bodies rippling with the transformation.

Emeriel, trembling with adrenaline, watched from a distance. The size difference was staggering. Even transformed, the assassins were dwarfed by the grand king’s massive form. But it was three against one. She watched, her heart pounding, the fight vicious and brutal. One beast lunged, only to be lifted and hurled across the cave. It landed with a bone-crunching thud, a yowl of pain escaping as it crumpled. The other two charged, claws flashing, roars filling the cave. Blood splattered across the cave floor. For a short moment, they held their own. Emeriel winced as scratches marred her beloved’s otherwise flawless hide. Then, with a powerful swipe, the grand king sent another head flying.

What is it with her beloved and ripping heads off shoulders? A rush of fondness bubbled up inside Emeriel. So magnificent. So adorable. Then, she caught herself. There was nothing ‘adorable’ about death, blood, and gore. What in Ares’ name was that? When she looked again, the battle was over. Her beast had shifted back, and in his place stood King Daemonikai, fully clothed in his regal attire, his back to her. In his grasp was the last of her attackers, now dying.

“Who sent you?” the grand king thundered.

Emeriel gasped. He turned toward her, his features stormy and intense. “Soulbond? Galilea? You are my Soulbond!?”

Reality crashed down on Emeriel like a blizzard. He knows. He. Knows. Her knees buckled, and she curled into herself.

“How are y–you here, my king?” the dying man croaked, blood bubbling at his lips. “How did… how did Emeriel get you here on time…” He coughed, spasmed, and went limp in King Daemonikai’s grip.

“Emeriel?” Her beloved’s brows pinched together, looking utterly confused.

Emeriel’s eyes met his, helplessly. She was physically naked, yet felt more exposed than ever. King Daemonikai’s eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail: the torn slave garments discarded carelessly, the messy state of her ponytail, the dirt smudging her face. His gaze bored into her, scrutinizing, analyzing.

“I have only met Emeriel once. One night, a night of intense heat. But I have seen, and I have been with Galilea,” the grand king said, in a low, dangerous tone. “I know every inch of her body, every feature of her face. Everything.” His stormy features darkened further, eyes blazing with dark green fire. “And I am certain I stare at Galilea right now. So, tell me, Galilea… Who. Are. You?”