The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 260

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**TITLE: Never Love 260**

Lyra

Before us, the palace looms, its pristine white façade shimmering against the azure sky of the afternoon. After our arduous journey through the rugged forests and towering mountains, its meticulously manicured gardens and structured perfection feel almost surreal—too immaculate, too much under control. As we draw nearer, the guards snap to attention, their expressions morphing from alert vigilance to sheer disbelief upon recognizing Alexander.

“Your Highness!” the captain of the guard exclaims, rushing forward with an urgency that betrays the tension of the past days. “We have dispatched search parties throughout the kingdom, scouring every corner for you.”

With a subtle shift in posture, Alexander straightens in his saddle, the weariness etched on his face momentarily vanishing as he assumes the regal demeanor expected of him. “Inform my parents of our return at once. We must speak with them immediately.”

“And the others, sire?” The captain’s gaze flits over me, lingering on Kieran with a hint of suspicion that is impossible to miss.

“They are under my personal protection,” Alexander asserts, his voice unwavering and authoritative. “Escort us to the royal chambers.”

As we cross the threshold into the palace grounds, I can feel the weight of countless eyes upon us, scrutinizing our every move. Servants halt their tasks to gawk, while courtiers murmur behind their hands, assessing Kieran and me as if we were potential threats. The oppressive weight of their judgment feels tangible, pressing against me like a physical force.

“Just ignore them,” Elara whispers, riding closely beside me, her voice a soothing balm. “They tend to stare at anything that appears new or different.”

Yet, I know their gazes are driven by more than mere curiosity. I can see the calculations, the assumptions, and the immediate dismissals reflected in many eyes—especially when they take note of my simple attire and the unmistakable mark of an outsider I carry. The fragile bond between Alexander and me flickers uncomfortably, as if sensing the hostility of our surroundings.

We dismount in the bustling main courtyard, where a whirlwind of activity greets us. Royal advisors descend upon Alexander like moths to a flame, their urgent matters demanding his attention despite his evident fatigue. Dominic is swiftly pulled aside by other members of the royal guard, leaving Elara as our sole familiar presence amid the sudden chaos.

“Come,” she urges gently, taking my arm with a reassuring grip. “I’ll find you proper quarters while Alexander handles this.”

Alexander looks up from the throng of advisors encircling him, his expression a blend of apology and determination as our eyes lock. The bond between us pulses momentarily stronger before retreating to its delicate state. “I will find you as soon as I can,” he calls out, his voice cutting through the din of voices clamoring for his attention.

Kieran inches closer to me, his unease palpable in the air. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, his voice low and edged with concern. “We’re being separated barely minutes after our arrival.”

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, though a gnawing uncertainty lingers in my gut. “Alexander has responsibilities we can hardly fathom.”

“Responsibilities that will always take precedence over you,” he observes quietly, his words barely audible to anyone else.

Before I can formulate a response, Elara guides us through the grand marble hallways, where our footsteps echo unnaturally loud against the opulent surroundings. Palace staff watch us pass with barely concealed intrigue, whispering behind cupped hands as soon as we’re out of earshot. A wave of self-consciousness washes over me, intensifying my awareness of my travel-worn appearance, my simple clothing, and my unmistakable status as an outsider.

Elara leads us to a lavish guest chamber in the east wing, the doors opening to reveal a sitting area that dwarfs many homes in my community. “These rooms should be comfortable,” she assures us, her tone warm yet formal. “I’ll arrange for baths and suitable clothing to be brought for both of you.”

“Suitable clothing?” Kieran raises an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his voice.

“Court standards are…” Elara hesitates, choosing her words with care. “Traditional. Your current attire would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention.”

Once Elara departs, Kieran and I are left in an awkward silence, absorbing the opulence that surrounds us. Everything feels excessive—too ornate, too formal, too far removed from the natural world that has always been our sanctuary.

“This is where he lives,” Kieran finally says, tracing a finger along the intricately carved edge of a table. “This wealth, this disconnect from ordinary life.”