The Raven Wolf King: Wolfless novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Valeria

I follow Raphael, and in no time, I’m sitting in a beautiful, ornate office in front of the King, his six sons,

and a few others.

A tall, lanky man with a pale complexion and sharp features stares at me with scrutiny. “Wolfless?” he asks. His face twists with disgust as I slowly nod.

“She shouldn’t be in your presence, my Lord,” he says. “I’ll interview her myself—”

The King lifts a hand. “No. It is quite all right, Godfrey.” He looks at me. “Tell me what happened.”

I explain everything just as I told Raphael. Surprisingly, I’m not met with suspicion or doubt.

“It was brave of you, what you did,” Tobias says. He gives me a kind smile.

The King nods. “You saved my mate, and for that, I owe you.”

My eyes widen, and I vigorously shake my head. “No! Not at all. I simply reacted! I would’ve done the same for anyone else. You owe me nothing.”

“Trust me, no Wolfless would’ve had the courage to do what you did.” He raises a hand before I can protest. “I will not argue. My mate is alive and resting now because of you.”

Raphael seems much more relaxed now with this news.

“Tomorrow’s Ball will be dedicated to you,” the King says.

What!

“My Lord! She is a Wolfless!” Godfrey exclaims, his face flushing with distaste for me.

The King seems exasperated now. “I realize that, and?” His hand lifts in a dismissive gesture.

Godfrey lowers his head, lips pressed tight as silence falls over him.

“It is settled then!” the King declares, his tone final.

I finally react, unable to hold back any longer. “NO!” I get up. “Please! I don’t wish to be the center of attention, please.”

They glance at each other in confusion. Raphael narrows his eyes, studying me as if trying to understand why I react this way. Anyone else would leap at the idea, but I have a sister forever consumed by jealousy, and she would have Mother against me in no time.

“This is… my only request. Please. I want all of this kept here.”

Tobias leans in to his Father. “She is modest, perhaps? Does not wish for the attention.”

The King nods. “Hm, very well. Gratitude will be shown in a different way.”

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Relief washes over me, and Tobias smiles and winks at me as if he’s saying, I got you. Instantly, my attention goes to Raphael, who seems not to have noticed that interaction.

Am I going nuts?

“Cancel dinner tonight at the main hall,” the King demands. “Investigation is still ongoing, so let everyone

have their dinner in their rooms.”

“And the Ball tomorrow?” Finn asks.

“For now, still happening,” the King replies.

With that, I’m allowed to leave, and though I’m offered an escort, I refuse. When I’m back with my family, they seem oblivious to my absence. Their talk is all about an assassination attempt, not knowing that I was in the middle of that ordeal.

***

The next day, by the time noon comes around, I’m feeling restless, locked up in this room.

I think Grimm was right. I think I’ll be attending the Ball. But right now, I need a break, and staying here isn’t going to work.

“Max, want to go for a run?”

His ears perk instantly, and he explodes into wild barking, tail thumping against the floor in pure

excitement.

“Shh, boy!” I tug Max gently by the collar as we slip out of the room.

No one from my family is here. Father must be buried in a General’s meeting, while Mother and Jade are likely wandering the Castle, mingling with nobles. And me–I’m left trapped up here.

I make my way downstairs to the kitchen. The air hums with activity, servants moving briskly, pots clattering, voices low. Yet no one looks at me. They keep working, ignoring my presence as if I’m

invisible.

“Where did Grimm go?” a working woman asks.

“He’s hiding somewhere again,” another says.

“Well, what do you expect? You’re working the poor guy to death.”

I giggle.

“Did you hear? Grimm found his fated mate, but he got rejected.”

“Really?”

What?

“The poor guy, and he’s such a sweetheart too,” a girl says.

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I didn’t know. But I should have. The sadness he carried was always there. I saw it every time. Yet I was too consumed with myself to ever ask. Now the weight of it hits me, and I feel sad for him. Poor guy.

Leaving the kitchen, I carefully make my way through the field and enter the forest, watching the damn Ravens in the distance.

“They’d better stay where they are,” I mutter. “Alright, Max! Ready?!”

Max barks, jumps, and twirls around. The boy is a massive dog, so he’s kind of sluggish, meaning I’m able to keep up with him. I brace myself before I begin to run because my broken ribs haven’t completely healed yet. I was on painkillers yesterday, so I felt nothing, but I’m not on them anymore.

“Reaaady…”

Max gets excited when he hears me.

“Seeeet…”

He watches me as if I were about to cheat, but he’s ready to bolt.

“GO!”

He dashes into the forest. I begin to run, but not as fast as I usually do. My body isn’t doing well with the pain. Still, it feels so good to be out here. The Castle is great, but it tends to feel stuffy inside.

Max and I run for about thirty minutes, but with each passing moment, the sky grows darker. It’s still day, yet the air feels heavy, as if a storm is pressing in. Or perhaps it’s only thick clouds gathering.

We stumble upon a small pond, its surface still, broken only by the reflection of a black, lifeless tree standing in the center. The branches stretch upward like skeletal arms, clawing at the air, stripped bare of leaves or life.

I sink down beside the water, Max curling close. Resting my head against him, I close my eyes, letting his warmth steady me as I drift into a few minutes of quiet. This run was a bad idea. My side hurts even

more now.

Suddenly, I’m looking down at the pond from high in a tree. The dead tree. Below, I see Max and me resting–as if I’m watching through someone else’s eyes.

Max stirs, then leaps up, barking furiously at me. The sound grows louder, until it fills everything. I jolt awake. Max is beside me, barking at the tree. When I lift my gaze, a mob of Ravens perches above, black eyes fixed on us.

Oh hell no.

Slowly, with pain in every movement, I push myself upright and begin to back away. My steps falter, and I stumble into something solid, but it is not a tree. Something softer and warmer.

I turn, and my breath catches. A massive wolf towers before me, with five smaller ones gathered behind it. The great wolf’s fur gleams bright, almost golden, its presence majestic. And then I know. The scent is

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unmistakable. Raphael.

Max whines and cowers behind a tree. I have to kneel. Even in his wolf form, he’s a Prince, and there are

others around us.

Raphael leans close, sniffing slowly around my ear. Then he circles me, his eyes never leaving mine. Behind him, the others watch in silence, their gazes heavy, waiting. I stay perfectly still, every muscle tight, until he’s finished.

Suddenly, his form shifts to human, and he turns to his men. “Go. I’ll catch up.”

I lower my head and look down. When they’re out of sight, Raphael speaks. “Stand.”

I grunt, knowing it’s going to hurt. And it does. I curse under my breath, looking down, staying on my

knees.

“That’s how you’re going to treat me?” he mutters.

“I wasn’t cursing at you. I was cursing at the pain–the reason I don’t want to stand. It hurts.”

My hand presses against the right side of my ribs where the ache is sharp.

“Oh. I see,” he whispers, his hand lowering toward me. “Let me help you.”

Reluctantly, I place my hand in his, and he pulls me to my feet.

For a few seconds, silence hangs between us. I can’t bear it, so I finally ask, “I was just out for a run. What do you want… sire?”

This is what I was supposed to be calling him all this time.

“Look at me.” His tone is commanding.

I glide my eyes up, trying my best to ignore his nakedness, but it’s impossible. My eyes linger in places they shouldn’t. I shamelessly stare, and I want to cry out of embarrassment. He seems amused, and I

hate it.

Why is he here? Why do we keep finding each other like this? I want to stay away from him because. when I see him, all I can remember is the rejection and the pain.

Again, I ask, “What do you want?”

“What are you doing out here alone?” he asks.

“I told you, I came on a run.”

“We’re at war. At any moment, enemies could slip through our borders.”

“So…” I whisper. “They’d be doing me a favor.”

He steps closer, his hand sliding around my neck and cheek. The touch is rough enough to make me whimper, though it brings no pain. For a moment, the sound escapes me, but I force it back,

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straightening, regaining my stoic composure.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he whispers, our noses almost touching because of how close he is.

Our eyes lock, holding each other in silence. Then, as I’ve seen him do before, his gaze drops to my lips. His thumb brushes against them, a slow caress that makes my breath hitch. That’s when I pull back, breaking free from his grip, turning away from him. “Why do you keep doing things like this?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer. When my eyes find his, he holds me in an unmoving stare. The silence between us feels heavier than words, pressing down until I have to look away.

After what feels like forever, his hand lifts, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The gesture is slow, deliberate, carrying more weight than words. “I forgot to ask yesterday–did you get your dress?”

I break from the spell. “I won’t be going to the ball.” I lie.

“You won’t? Why?” He genuinely looks surprised.

“Why do

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