Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 68: Petty Outburst?

Chapter 68: Petty Outburst?

"You know," Relia’s voice filled Evelina’s mind with its usual teasing lilt, "all this sneaking around, pretending to be a maid, and pining after our mate—do you ever wonder what happens when the moon cycle is up?"

Evelina sighed, staring out the cabin window at the forest bathed in moonlight. "Of course, I do. I think about it every day, Relia," she admitted. "Damian gave me one moon cycle to prove my innocence, but... things feel so different now. The lines are all blurred."

Relia let out a low chuckle. "Different how? Because he’s in love with you? Because you’re in love with him?"

Evelina stiffened. "I didn’t say I was in love with him."

"You didn’t have to," Relia replied smoothly. "Evie, you’ve gone from glaring at him to sneaking into the palace just to check on him. Your heart races every time he looks at you, and don’t think I haven’t noticed how you defend him to me in your head."

"I don’t—" Evelina started, but Relia cut her off with a playful laugh.

"Don’t even try to deny it! Face it, Evie, the bond worked its magic, and you’re falling hard. And, for what it’s worth, he’s already there. Damian wouldn’t have risked so much for just anyone."

Evelina closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window. "Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change the fact that there are people who want me gone. Loving him—falling for him—feels reckless when I don’t even know if I’ll survive this."

Relia’s tone softened. "You’re not doing this alone anymore, Evie. Damian’s stubborn, but he’s yours. And you’re his. It’s okay to let yourself want this."

For a moment, silence settled between them. Then Relia sighed wistfully. "You know what I really miss?"

"What?" Evelina asked, grateful for the change in topic.

"Running. Shifting. Feeling the wind on my fur. It’s been so long since we’ve run free."

Evelina straightened, her pulse quickening at the thought. "Shifting?" she asked tentatively, as she hadn’t done it before, though the thought of it for some reason, didn’t feel strange. "Well, we’re far enough from the palace, and the forest here is secluded. A run might be exactly what we need."

Relia felt a rush of excitement, and Evelina could sense her energy. "Now we’re talking! Let’s stretch those legs and have some fun."

**************

The King spoke loudly, cutting through the tension. "Damian knows what he needs to do for the kingdom," he said, meaningfully. "We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good, whether we want to or not."

The words settled heavily in the room, everyone nodding in agreement.

But to Damian, the words had a deeper meaning; one that cut straight to his heart.

His father wasn’t merely discussing alliances or politics. There was a more significant message—an indirect jab specifically directed at him.

Damian clenched his fists under the table, his silver eyes narrowing in anger. Without thinking, he blurted out. "Same way you plan on sacrificing my mate? For the supposed greater good?"

The hall went quiet, and gasps spread through the crowd at the brave—or to some people, stupid—accusation targetted at the king. Everyone turned to look at Damian, and the tension in the room hit a new high.

The King’s expression darkened immediately. His silver eyes, strikingly like Damian’s, shone with a threatening glint. "Prince Damian," he warned in a low voice, "this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion."

Damian leaned forward a bit, his eyes fixed on his father. "So when is the right time, Father?" he asked, his voice calm but showing some defiance. "Is it when she’s dead? Or when you’ve achieved what you want out of all these?"

The King slammed his goblet onto the table, the sharp sound echoing through the room. "Enough!" he barked with authority.

The guests flinched, and even Lord Edric leaned back in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden shift in mood.

"You will not say another word about this here," the King continued, his tone icy and commanding. "Unless you wish to lose the title you cling to so fiercely."

Damian stiffened, his jaw tightening as his father’s words hit their mark.

Stripped of his title? His position?

The King wasn’t bluffing—Damian could see it in his steely gaze. As much as it burned to swallow his anger, he knew losing his title would only complicate things further. For now, he would have to play along.

The King’s expression softened slightly as he continued. "This feast is not a place for petty outbursts. Compose yourself, or excuse yourself. But do not embarrass this family further."

Damian’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to fight back, to defend Evelina and their bond. But Storm’s calm voice echoed in his mind. "Not here, Damian. Not now. Keep your head."

Taking a slow, steadying breath, Damian rose from his chair. "If you’ll excuse me," he said coldly.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.

The palace corridors were quiet, the muffled sounds of the feast fading as Damian strode away from the grand hall. His heart thundered in his chest, frustration and anger coursing through him like a storm.

"Grrrr...," Damian groaned under his breath. "He sounds like he knows something."

Storm growled in agreement. "You should have called him out right then and there."

"And lose everything in the process?" Damian countered bitterly. "No. He wants me to play the obedient son while he tightens his grip. But I won’t let him win."

Storm’s voice softened slightly. "We need to be smart about this. For Evelina’s sake."

Damian stopped, leaning against a pillar and exhaling deeply. "I know," he admitted. "But it’s getting harder to keep my temper in check. The way he talks about alliances—as if they matter more than her life—it’s infuriating."

Storm rumbled in agreement but remained silent.

Damian walked slowly towards the grand hall, his father’s words echoing in his mind. The tension from dinner weighed on him. As he moved through the dim palace corridors, he heard familiar footsteps—his father’s and someone else’s coming through.

Curiosity and caution flared within him, and he masked his scent and presence, sinking into the shadows easily. Moving stealthily, he followed them at a safe distance as they made their way toward the palace gardens.

Damian kept close to the walls, his wolf senses sharp and alert. His father and the Beta stopped in a secluded area near a fountain. Damian edged closer, holding his breath as he strained to hear their conversation.

"What did you do to the girl?" the King’s deep, commanding voice asked.

The Beta hesitated before replying. "I just left her in the pit like you instructed."

Damian’s fists clenched, and Storm snarled in his mind as he realised who they were talking about... Evelina.

His father, the King, was behind her disappearance. His anger boiled over, but he forced himself to remain silent and still.

"Well," the King said coldly, "here’s my new instruction. Kill her. And bring her body back."