Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 147

Valentin leaned forward, his voice a fervent whisper, “We can convince them,” he urged, urgency lacing his tone. “We can show them the shift. We can demonstrate how our bodies were meant to be—”

“Val,” Victoria interjected sharply, her voice low enough that it barely reached his ears. She shot him a warning glance, her eyes wide with concern. Yet, he brushed aside her caution, gesturing emphatically toward Moonraiser, his passion igniting like a flame.

“Atlas!” he called out, his voice rising with intensity. “You have a young boy. Not yet one year old, right? Don’t you wish for him to know a life free from chains?”

Moonraiser grunted, his brow furrowing as he considered Valentin’s words. Finally, he met Valentin’s gaze, his expression a mixture of resignation and resolve. “I’d be a fool not to wish for that,” he replied, his voice gruff and weary. “But the truth remains: our forces are small and weak. We can barely hold the walls of this castle, let alone protect the land that lies beyond.”

“Thanatos,” Valentin pleaded, turning his earnest gaze toward the man seated across the table. “We cannot afford to give up. Not now, not when we’ve come so far.”

Blythwitch, sitting in silence, finally lifted his gaze to meet Valentin’s. He shook his head slowly, his expression filled with sorrow. “I’d rather my son live in chains than die because we attempted to break them,” he murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of despair.

“Gods be damned!” Valentin’s voice erupted, raw and filled with emotion.

In a sudden surge of frustration, he slammed his fist against the stone table, the impact sending a crack snaking down its center. The sound reverberated through the room, causing everyone to jump in shock. Moonraiser’s chair scraped against the floor as he leapt to his feet, a low growl escaping his throat as he glared down the length of the table. Wolfham’s hand twitched, his blade seemingly poised to strike at any moment. Even Blythwitch looked taken aback, his eyes wide with alarm.

“That is enough!” Victoria’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. She seized Valentin’s bicep, pulling him away from the table with a fierce determination. “Meeting adjourned!” she declared over her shoulder, her tone brooking no argument.

With a swift motion, she yanked him down the dimly lit hallway and shoved him into the lift at the base of the castle. Her fingers danced over the worn buttons, and the doors slammed shut with a finality that echoed in the confined space. The lift jolted, then began its ascent, creaking as it rose.

Victoria glared at him for a heartbeat longer, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Just then, the lift dinged, announcing their arrival. The doors creaked open, and she shoved him with a forceful push to the center of his chest, propelling him out into the hall. Her expression remained feral, a wild look in her eyes.

“Tell Zahara you’re trying to get us killed,” she snapped, her voice a fierce whisper as the doors slammed shut behind her, the lift continuing its ascent.

In a burst of anger, Valentin roared, his frustration boiling over as he slammed his fist into the wall beside the lift. The stone shattered under his blow, splintering in a manner reminiscent of the table’s destruction deep within the castle. The light filtering through the cracks above seemed to amplify the damage, making it appear far worse than it truly was. With a heavy sigh, he turned away, his shoulders slumping as he trudged down the hall, lost in his thoughts.

When he reached the third door on the right, he knocked twice, the sound echoing in the silence before he pushed the ornate door open. Instantly, a mouthwatering aroma of lamb and fresh herbs enveloped him, igniting his senses. His mouth watered, and his stomach gurgled in response, reminding him just how long it had been since he had last eaten.