Confirmed

Stefan

I slip away through the solid oak door, which provides a welcome barrier between myself and the clamour of the wedding festivities. Despite having fulfilled my familial obligations, mingled with guests, and congratulated my sister and Samuel, I am expected to stay longer, but I mentally can’t cope with staying longer.

The noise of over three hundred voices compacted in the grand halls assaults my senses. I find myself trapped by a single thought: Jacub’s intentions. What is his plan? Perhaps my Father’s idea was correct, and there was no plan, or it faltered before it could happen. The absence of repercussions in the eight years leaves me with more questions than answers.

Yet, one name persists in occupying my thoughts like an uninvited guest: Harlyn. She lingers in my consciousness despite my attempts to divert my attention elsewhere.

She annoyed me during the ceremony, and although she did nothing herself, I blamed her; it was entirely my fault.

Asshole.

Ghost is correct. I am. It wasn’t her actions that annoyed me, but the reaction she caused within me. Before we entered, I hadn’t paid attention to her; I focused on Lucy. Then, I looked back to see why Lucy had stopped walking, and my eyes refused to leave Harlyn’s body.

Her elegance was undeniable, and her gown draped effortlessly over her body. Yet, I was too consumed by my thoughts of her to realise I was admiring her at the moment all eyes were on her. I panicked and rushed to help, but I slammed into her.

In embarrassment, I sought refuge in the easiest escape route: blame. I blamed Harlyn, which I accept was pathetic and weak, almost childish. However, I had to try to hide that I was admiring her.

Weak.

Ghost’s voice echoing within my mind is correct. I accept that it was a cowardly move.

“I can’t believe I was staring at her when all the focus was on her at that moment. Not just staring, but admiring.” I mutter more to myself than Ghost.

You wouldn’t need to hide it if you had accepted her.

Ghost’s words annoy me, reminding me of my mistakes that I am unwilling to confront. He’s still angry at me over it.

He’s been quiet since Halryn returned, his unease mirroring my unsettled state. We both feel like something is missing. There’s a sense around us that we can’t grasp or understand.

I don’t want to hear him, so I push him to the back of my mind, although he’s right. I made mistakes.

My parents would never have allowed Harlyn and me to marry. The thought of subjecting her to the rejection of an entire kingdom made me reject her, hoping it would be the least painful way. I can’t imagine how she would feel knowing everyone knew she was my mate, and the king and queen refused to let us follow through.

So, I decided to hide it and reject her. I chose the path of least resistance, sparing her the pain of hearing others say she wasn’t worthy. Yet, in doing so, I unwittingly sealed my fate, consigning myself to a lifetime of regret and what-ifs.

During the celebrations, glimpses of Harlyn were fleeting. She and her mother seemed content to remain in the hall designated for more distant acquaintances—a fact that, upon reflection, I found oddly relieving. It stopped my temptation to fixate on her through the celebration. With a resigned sigh, I pushed myself up and exited the room.

My purpose is to locate the Earl and discuss tomorrow’s attack plan. I know him well enough to know that he is meticulous about planning.

The unmistakable sound of raised voices halts me in my tracks outside the Earl’s office. I consider retreating, but Ghost, the persistent wolf, anchors me in place and compels me to eavesdrop against my better judgment.

The Earl’s harsh words are filled with disdain. “Every time she returns, there are nothing but issues. Nothing but drama,” he declares, his tone laced with bitterness. “In every good and happy event, something happens. This time, the dress got caught, and last time, she apparently got raped. Which we know is a cover for her unladylike ways and slutty attitude.”

His words strike a harsh chord within me, igniting a flurry of questions and uncertainties. Who is the object of his hate?

“Father, you can’t use that language with her. She explained that night. She wasn’t at fault and didn’t willingly sleep with anyone.” Colton argues, his voice laced with anger. Who? I stand confused. Who would they be arguing over?

“Then how did no one hear her? How did no one notice a strange man taking her into a room?” The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place, but I struggle to accept them. Harlyn, it can’t be.

“She was raped. Mother’s birthday celebration may have been busy, but few travelled through the halls to see or hear Father.”

In that moment, clarity dawns with chilling clarity. It couldn’t have been Harlyn that fateful night. This realisation cuts deep. They are talking about Harlyn, but why? Why would Jacub get her? He knew who she was.

My body stays stuck in place, unwilling to move. I want to deny, find any proof the woman I was with wasn’t Harlyn, even just the smallest amount.

This isn’t good, even though I know it isn’t. I don’t know Jacub’s plan, but if anyone found out the truth, the Earl and my father would be at war. The Earl would want me dead for doing this to his daughter, and the entire kingdom would be forced to choose sides.

Even I know that if it was between my father and the Earl, people would side with the Earl. His strength outweighs my father’s, so no one will go against the Earl.

If it were between me and the Earl, people would side with me for the same reason, but they wouldn’t want to. They would do it out of fear of losing.

What has Jacub done?