Chapter 21
Third Person’s POV.
Wanda sat in the comfort of her lavish bedroom in Oatrun Castle, a plate of neatly sliced apples resting on the table before her.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the intricate gold embroidery on her silk robe as she picked up another slice, biting into it with deliberate ease.
Just as she was savouring the crisp sweetness, the servant she had sent for entered, bowing deeply.
“Miss Fellowes,” the servant greeted respectfully.
Wanda chewed slowly, her lips curving slightly in amusement as she uncrossed her legs. “Lift your head.”
The servant obeyed immediately, eyes trained on the ground.
Wanda wasted no time. “Did the Alpha and his new wife spend the night together?” she inquired in a deliberate, carefree tone.
A flicker of hesitation crossed the servant’s face before she answered. “No, Miss. The Alpha spent the night alone in his private quarters.”
A surge of satisfaction swelled in Wanda’s chest, though she kept her expression perfectly neutral.
’So, Draven hadn’t even touched her.’
The knowledge pleased her immensely. It was proof of what she had believed all along—Draven didn’t want Meredith. And he didn’t see her in a good light.
Still keeping her tone even, she asked, “And where is she staying?”
“Lady Meredith is still residing in the guest quarters, Miss.”
Wanda’s fingers lightly traced the edge of the plate as she smiled inwardly.
’So, he also hadn’t even given her proper chambers?’
Draven’s actions—or rather, his lack of action—set her heart at ease.
Dismissing the servant with a small nod, Wanda slipped the rest of the apple slice into her mouth.
A few minutes later, still in a noticeably good mood, Wanda left her chambers. Her destination was clear—she was going to find Draven.
But before she could take another step along the hallway, she nearly collided with Jeffery.
“Jeffery,” she greeted, skipping the formal ’Beta’ title as always.
Jeffery halted in his steps, his expression unreadable, his posture straight. He didn’t return her greeting, nor did he acknowledge her presence beyond stopping to let her speak.
Wanda, unfazed, asked, “Where’s Draven?”
His response was calm but firm. “Alpha Draven is in his study.”
She noticed how he emphasized ’Alpha,’ a silent reminder that she should address Draven properly—especially in front of others.
But she had long since stopped paying attention to these corrections. Or perhaps she had chosen to ignore them entirely.
Wanda’s tone remained casual. “Since we are all leaving for Duskmoor tomorrow, has the Alpha made arrangements for his new wife? How will she cope here alone in this big castle?”
Jeffery’s expression didn’t shift. “The Alpha’s wife will be coming with us.”
The words struck Wanda like a slap. Her smile disappeared, and for the first time in their conversation, her composure cracked. “She’s coming along?”
Jeffery didn’t give her the satisfaction of lingering on the topic. “If you will excuse me.” With that, he stepped past her, moving down the hall without another word.
Wanda clenched her fists at her sides. ’ How could Draven bring that cursed, useless woman to Duskmoor?’
Muttering under her breath, she shook her head. “No. I will have to talk him out of it.”
She moved swiftly through the halls, her feet carrying her toward Draven’s study with practiced ease. She knew the path by heart—after all, she had been in and out of that room more times than she could count.
When she arrived, a guard stood by the door.
He greeted her only with a small nod.
“I want to see Draven,” she stated plainly.
The guard didn’t question her. He simply opened the door, allowing her inside before shutting it behind her.
The study was as grand as ever. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, packed with hundreds of old books arranged with meticulous care. The air carried a crisp scent of mint and cedarwood, a scent that was unmistakably Draven’s.
And there he was—sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, his large frame radiating quiet authority. He wore black pants and a black shirt, the first two buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his broad, toned chest.
Even in something so simple, he carried an air of undeniable power and sex appeal.
Wanda’s lips curled into a small smile. “Good morning, Draven,” she said as she strode toward him.
Pulling out a chair, she settled into it without waiting for permission. “How was your night?”
Draven glanced at her over the rim of his full-frame reading glasses. “Good morning,” he acknowledged. But he didn’t answer her question.
“What brings you to my study so early this morning?” he asked.
Wanda chuckled softly. “It’s almost nine, Draven. This isn’t early.”
Draven said nothing. His gaze dropped back to the file he was reading, his attention no longer on her.
A few seconds passed before Wanda spoke again, her voice carrying a false lightness. “I heard Meredith is coming with us to Duskmoor.”
Draven didn’t even glance up. “She is. Is there a problem?”
Wanda leaned forward slightly. “Yes, there is.”
At that, Draven finally lifted his gaze, fixing her with an unreadable expression. “How so?”
She met his eyes with a well-practiced look of concern. “Draven, you know how dangerous Duskmoor is right now. The killings, the missing hearts—it’s no place for someone like her. She has no wolf to protect herself. It’s not safe.”
Draven studied her in silence before responding, his voice cool. “You don’t need to concern yourself. I have already put plans in place for my wife’s safety.”
Wanda’s fingers curled against the fabric of her dress as she repeated the word, ’ His wife’ in her head .
The way he said it so decisively made something bitter rise in her throat.
For a moment, she struggled to find the right words, but before she could say anything else, the heavy doors of the study opened.
Jeffery strode inside, his sharp eyes immediately landing on Draven. “The convoy is prepared, Alpha.”
Draven, without hesitation, removed his reading glasses and stood. Jeffery moved swiftly, pulling back his leather chair to give him space to step out.
Wanda, now watching closely, frowned slightly. “Where are you going?”
Draven buttoned his shirt, sparing her a glance. “The palace. King Alderic sent for me.”
And just like that, the conversation was over.