Chapter 77
Chapter 77
JONESES’S POV
Everyone in the escort knew this mission could cost them their lives. Still, they came. Joneses was no different.
He was forty–two this year, and his body bore the toll of decades of fighting. His knees ached whenever he mounted, and the stiffness in his ribs never fully went away since the last beast tide. Old scars laced his skin like a record of battles survived, but each one reminded him that the years were catching up.
What did he have left anyway? His wife and child had abandoned the North three months ago. They hadn’t even said goodbye. Rumors claimed she had taken the west road, others swore she went south.
Joneses had searched, asked every trader and messenger who passed through, but he never found her. She had begged him countless times to leave, to take their child somewhere safer. She said the North was nothing but graves, that one day it would claim him too.
But he couldn’t leave. His parents were buried here. His grandparents too. All of them had fought for these walls, had given their lives to hold them. How could he turn his back when their bones were in the same soil he swore to protect? When he told her that, she gave her answer in silence–she left.
A part of him had wanted to chase after her, to drag her back if he had to. But chasing someone who had already made up their mind was pointless. That truth had cut deeper than
claw. So when the summons came for this escort, Joneses hadn’t hesitated. If death waited beyond the gates, then so be it.
any
“Joneses?” a voice cut into his thoughts.
He turned and found Kelan at his side. The boy was just twenty–five, the youngest in their group. He was someone who grew up within the walls, raised by soldiers. Reckless, fearless, but loyal to the bone.
“How do you feel?” Kelan asked, glancing at Joneses’s ribs where the beast’s claw had torn earlier.
Joneses shifted in the saddle, testing his side. No pain nor stiffness. He lifted the edge of his armor, exposing the skin beneath. “Fine,” he said, surprised at the honesty in his own voice. “Better than fine. Look.”
Kelan leaned closer. His eyes widened. “That scar… the one you got at Frostfang Outpost. Where is it?”
Gone. Every scar on that side of his body, every mark that had stiffened in the cold, had vanished. His skin was smooth, untouched, as though none of it had ever happened.
Before he could answer, Arturo rode up, pulling at the collar of his uniform. “It’s the same for me,” the man said quickly. He flexed his arm, disbelief plain on his face. “The scars I carried for years, they’re gone. I feel younger, stronger. Like I’ve never fought a day in my life.”
Kelan stared between them. “Then… the Princess…”
Joneses fastened his armor again, his mind heavy. “She didn’t just heal today’s wounds,” he said, his voice low. “She erased what came before.”
Arturo nodded, still moving his arm as if testing its strength. “We came here ready to die for the Lord. Instead, she gave us more than we thought possible.”
Joneses fell silent. They had all ridden out prepared to give their lives. Yet instead of death, the Princess had given them something else. A gift none of them had expected, a chance to stand taller, fight harder, live longer.
And for a man who thought he had nothing left, it was more than a gift. It was a reason to keep fighting.
“She’s not a witch…” Kelan said suddenly, breaking the silence. “If she were, we would have felt it by now.”
He wasn’t wrong. These men had seen enough witches to know the signs. They had watched comrades die under curses, whole squads burned or bled dry because some witch demanded a price for her magic. Hatred for them was carved into the marrow of every northern soldier. It was instinct, not just belief.
“She isn’t,” Joneses said firmly. “Witches cannot give without taking something back. That is their law. Their magic always demands a price. But when she heals, nothing is taken. Only strength returned.”
His words were enough to silence the ones listening to him. Because that was the truth–they
all saw it.
Still, doubt lingered. A man on the left muttered, “Then what about the Lord? People whisper she bewitched him. That she tied him down, made him keep her close.”
No one laughed. It was a rumor they had all heard, Some even believed it. She was wolfless, an omega raised far from the battlefield, with no claim to the North except being chosen by the King himself to be the Lord’s fifth bride. That alone stirred suspicion. Why would a man like Cassian–the Tyrant Lord who trusted no one–suddenly keep such a woman at his side? Why keep her alive?
Arturo shifted in his saddle, shaking his head. “I’ve heard the same thing.” However, the rumors didn’t end there. Rumor has it that all Lieutenants, all with Alpha and Beta blood respect her.
That earned looks from a few of the others. Respect? For her?
Everyone knew the lieutenants were men forged by the Lord himself. Lucas, Rio, Sivi, Grace and the others are stronger than most Alpha’s. They weren’t the sort to bow easily.
To many, their loyalty was unquestionable, but their loyalty was always to Cassian, not his bride or even to the council. So why were they treating her differently? Was it because he ordered them to? Was it because they feared crossing him?
Joneses looked at Rio who was riding silently at the front. The lieutenants aren’t fools. They wouldn’t risk the North just to appease him. If they respect her, it’s because they’ve seen what they are seeing now.
The men fell silent again, each one turning that thought over. The doubts didn’t vanish completely, years of instinct and rumor couldn’t be undone in a single action, but what they had witnessed was undeniable.
A sudden guttural growl ripped through the air, cutting off their thoughts. Instantly, every man froze, hands flying to the hilts of their weapons. For a heartbeat, they braced for another wave of beasts crashing through the trees. But the sound hadn’t come from the forest or the road.
No–it came from behind them. From inside the carriage.
Arturo shifted in his saddle, shaking his head. “I’ve heard the same thing.” However, the rumors didn’t end there. Rumor has it that all Lieutenants, all with Alpha and Beta blood respect her.
That earned looks from a few of the others. Respect? For her?
Everyone knew the lieutenants were men forged by the Lord himself. Lucas, Rio, Sivi, Grace and the others are stronger than most Alpha’s. They weren’t the sort to bow easily.
To many, their loyalty was unquestionable, but their loyalty was always to Cassian, not his bride or even to the council. So why were they treating her differently? Was it because he ordered them to? Was it because they feared crossing him?
Joneses looked at Rio who was riding silently at the front. The lieutenants aren’t fools. They wouldn’t risk the North just to appease him. If they respect her, it’s because they’ve seen what they are seeing now.
The men fell silent again, each one turning that thought over. The doubts didn’t vanish completely, years of instinct and rumor couldn’t be undone in a single action, but what they had witnessed was undeniable.
A sudden guttural growl ripped through the air, cutting off their thoughts. Instantly, every man froze, hands flying to the hilts of their weapons. For a heartbeat, they braced for another wave of beasts crashing through the trees. But the sound hadn’t come from the forest or the road.
No–it came from behind them. From inside the carriage.
