Chapter 270

HIGH LORD HERODIS

He stood by the window, gazing out over the moonlit field. The night breeze whispered around him, carrying the sweet scent of grass and distant woods. News from the court had reached him, and he couldn't stop smiling.

“I am so happy for you, my dear friend,” he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves.

“Who are you speaking to?”

Herod turned at the familiar voice, seeing Dale enter the room. His son’s sharp gaze swept over him.

“No one, son,” Herod smoothed his expression.

Dale’s brow lifted skeptically. “So now you talk to yourself?” He sighed, striding to the bed and flopping onto it with an exaggerated motion. “I told you, Father, this loneliness is starting to get to you.”

“I am not lonely. I have you,” Herod countered defensively. “Besides, I am not a lunatic.”

Dale snorted, shaking his head. “If you say so.” Leaning back on the bed, he propped his head on his hands. “But tell me, why are you smiling? Don’t think I missed it.”

Herod chuckled. “I am grateful, that’s all. Things are finally looking up for my friend.”

“Friend?” Dale frowned, then realization dawned. “Oh, you mean the Grand King’s Soulbond? The human princess?”

“Uh-huh, that’s the one.” Herod’s smile deepened. Dale knew everything about his friendship with Emeriel; Herod had told him the full story years ago.

“Today, the Grand King made an official statement, and my friend even addressed the court,” he informed his son, trying to control his emotions, though warmth swelled in his chest. “I still remember vividly how impossible this day seemed two years ago.”

“You live dangerously, Father.” Dale’s voice held incredulity, a tone Herod had grown used to. “Heavens, of all the females to befriend, you chose The Ultimate’s woman? I’m still amazed. You cannot imagine the fear I felt when I read your letter detailing everything.”

“I told you, it wasn’t like that—”

“Look, I know you’re lonely, Father. I get it. But please, refrain from making reckless decisions and taking deadly risks just for companionship.”

Herod resisted rolling his eyes, keeping his smile steady. “Yes, sir,” he said lightly, humor in his voice.

No matter how often he assured Dale his relationship with Emeriel had been purely platonic, his son remained unconvinced. Some days, Dale seemed to believe him. On others, he spoke as if expecting the main gates to burst open, the Grand King storming in to deliver swift vengeance for daring to befriend his Soulbond.

Herod understood his son’s worries, however misplaced. Dale claimed his return home was purely for business, but Herod didn't believe it. Certain his son had come back to keep him company, his arrival happened only three months after Herod’s heartfelt letter.

Glancing at his son, now reclining with his eyes closed, a deep sense of pride filled Herod. At three hundred and fifty years old, Dale was every inch the mature, refined gentleman he and Rivera had raised him to be. Regardless of Dale’s reasons for returning, Herod was simply grateful to have him home. As much as he denied it, loneliness had crept into his life in recent years. His son’s presence made it easier to bear, just as Emeriel’s companionship had once done. He missed her, missed the ease with which she had once filled the silences. He was glad she was back in Urai, and proud of her progress.

Turning back to the window, he let the cool breeze caress his face. The field stretched before him, endless, bathed in silvery moonlight. He closed his eyes briefly, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

PRINCESS EMERIEL

It was a long journey beyond the fortress into the woods. For hours, Grand King Daemonikai ran like a blur through the tall trees while she held on tight, her hands secured around his shoulders. The wind rushed past them, whooshing all around. The ride was both exhilarating and calming.

When they finally reached a small cottage nestled beyond the mountains, he slowed. The elegant structure, surrounded by a picket fence entwined with flowering vines, came into view; it looked peaceful.

Daemonikai set her down gently before the door, taking her hand as he led her inside. The interior, pristine yet homely, held the faint scent of lavender. They moved through the space in companionable silence.

While Daemon filled the tub with steaming water, Emeriel wandered into the bedroom, her fingers trailing over the polished wood of the furniture. She opened the closet, revealing a variety of clothing: rows of tailored male attire alongside an assortment of feminine clothes.

The women’s garments caught her eye. Each piece was beautifully made, from elaborate ceremonial gowns to soft, delicate nightgowns.

Are they his late bondmate’s?

“They are not Evie’s.”

She turned, startled to find him leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed. “I had the servants prepare the closet for you after I woke up. I always intended for us to come here.”

“You do not have to explain,” she said, her fingers brushing the fabric of a gown. “But thank you.”

He nodded. “Come, the bath is ready.”

Minutes later, they were in the tub, bathing in silence. The warmth of the water soothed the exhaustion from their bodies. Following his guidance, Emeriel turned, giving him her back as he ran the washcloth gently over her skin. When he finished, he presented his broad back to her. She mimicked his motions, tracing the cloth over his shoulders, the muscles beneath her touch strong.

Afterwards, they dressed for the night and lay on the bed, facing one another, gazing at each other for a long moment.