The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 230

“And you’re the one who would steal the throne through deception,” she counters, her voice steady despite her precarious

position.

Her directness catches me off guard. “The throne was stolen from my bloodline generations ago. We merely seek to restore what was rightfully ours.”

“Through a ritual that would violate the true mate bond?” She takes a careful step backward on the log. “Through forcing Alexander’s essence to split apart?”

The mention of a mate bond strikes me like a physical blow. “True mate? What are you talking about?”

Her expression shifts, surprise followed by realization. “You don’t know,” she murmurs. “He found his true mate–the silver thread connection your ritual seeks to override. That’s why you need a Silverspiral healer’s essence. To break a bond that fate itself decreed.”

My mind reels with implications. Alexander has found his true mate? When? How? And why didn’t my people’s intelligence reveal this critical information? If he’s truly bonded…

I push these questions aside, refocusing on the immediate situation. “Whatever bond you claim exists doesn’t change the prophecy. The balanced heir must be united with the ancient bloodline to restore what was sundered.”

“The prophecy you brought has been corrupted,” she insists. “Twisted to serve your purposes. The original words remain

hidden in the Cave of Whispers.”

Another shock. She knows of the Cave–a place my people have sought for generations, believing it contains the earliest

recordings of the prophecies that guide us all. If she has access to this knowledge…

“You are of the Silverspiral bloodline,” I state rather than ask. “The mark on your shoulder blade proves it.”

Her hand moves instinctively to her left shoulder, confirming my suspicion. “And you would use me in a ritual that could destroy Alexander–split his essence permanently if something goes wrong.”

“The ritual is precisely calculated,” I argue, though doubt creeps unbidden into my thoughts. “The prophecy requires his dual nature to be properly balanced-”

“By his true mate,” she interrupts. “Not by false bonds created through blood magic.” She takes another step back along the log. “The mate bond has already awakened between us. You can’t override fate’s decree without terrible consequences.”

The guards‘ shouts grow closer, moving in our direction. Soon they’ll discover us, and this conversation will end. Whatever information this woman has–whatever truths she might reveal about the prophecy and the Cave of Whispers–will be lost once Vega takes control of her.

A decision crystallizes in my mind. I step onto the log myself, closing the distance between us.

“Listen carefully.” I say urgently. “My guards will be here in moments…”

I don’t finish the thought, because the guards‘ voices grow dangerously close. “Be ready,” I murmur, then deliberately raise my voice. “Surrender now, healer! You cannot escape!”

As I lunge forward as if to grab her, Lyra reacts instantly, dropping off the right side of the log into the ravine below. I make a show of trying to catch her, then call out to the approaching guards, “This way! The healer fled down the ravine!”

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Chapter 230

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The guards rush past me, following the direction I indicate–but I deliberately point them along the left fork of the ravine, opposite from the path I suggested to Lyra. It will buy her precious minutes to escape into the deeper forest.

Looking back, I realize my approach was too subtle, too ambiguous. In my attempt to maintain appearances while still helping

her escape, I likely seemed to be springing a trap rather than offering aid. My words-“Be ready” followed immediately by the

shouted command to surrender could easily have been interpreted as a predator toying with prey rather than the warning I

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