I gave him a brief nod before he continued, “Your father requests a word with you.”
I raised a brow. “Now?”
The butler nodded once. “Shall I escort you?”
I exhaled through my nose, glancing at Jeffery before turning back to the butler. “Lead the way.”
We followed him into the estate, heading toward the steel elevator. It carried us to the third floor, and once we stepped out, the butler led us to a balcony lounge.
“Please wait here, Beta,” the butler instructed Jeffery before turning to me.
I nodded, then entered the lounge.
My father was seated in a padded chair, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper in his hands. He didn’t look up immediately.
I approached, my voice steady. “Father.”
He folded the newspaper leisurely and placed it aside before finally meeting my gaze. “Draven.” His tone was calm, but perceptive. “I heard King Alderic sent for you.”
I pulled out a seat across from him, grabbing the glass jug of chilled margarita on the table and pouring myself a drink. “He did,” I answered simply.
My father watched me, his expression unreadable, but his question betrayed his curiosity. “What did he want?”
I took a slow sip, leaving out the matter of Meredith entirely. “We discussed the Great Wall.” I set the glass down, then leaned back. “The murder cases in Duskmoor remain unresolved, and it’s crucial that we secure Stormveil before things spiral out of control.”
I released a deep breath and added, “Same as me, King Alderic also acknowledges that it might be something else behind the murders.”
My father exhaled deeply, his gaze darkening slightly. “I have considered that possibility as well,” he admitted. “But I dismissed it. The past should remain in the past.”
I didn’t press further. There were too many shadows lurking in the past of my predecessors, ones my father rarely spoke about. Instead, I shifted the conversation to my next course of action, outlining how I planned to get Duskmoor’s government to assist in the investigation.
Father listened, but his expression remained serious. “Don’t place too much trust in humans, Draven. They are more than capable of orchestrating these murders in a way that absolves them of suspicion as well.”
I finished my second glass of margarita, setting it down with a soft clink before rising to my feet. “I will keep that in mind, father.”
Father stood as well, picking up his glass of margarita. Then, as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.
“Won’t you see your mother before you return to Duskmoor?”
I went still, my jaw tightening.
He continued, his tone softer this time. “You didn’t see her the last time. You are due for a visit.”
I hesitated, considering it. Seeing my mother had never been easy. But she was still my mother.
Finally, I let out a slow breath. “I will go now.”
Jeffery looked surprised when I returned to the living room and told him our next destination. But he quickly recovered, nodding once. “Yes, Alpha.”
We took the elevator down to the first level of the underground, the cold air becoming more noticeable as we walked through the long corridor. At the end, we turned left and approached a large iron door.
Jeffery knocked twice, stepping back.
I inhaled deeply, wondering what my mother would be doing now.
Moments later, the door unlocked from the inside, revealing a woman in her forties. As soon as she saw me, she stepped aside and bowed respectfully.
“Alpha,” she greeted, then turned to Jeffery with a polite nod.
Jeffery and I stepped inside.
The living area was clean and smelled of chamomile, mint, and lavender. Flowers in vases were placed around the room, and an incense pot sat at the center table, next to one of the vases.
I stuffed my hands into my pockets, scanning the space before turning to the woman. “Is she sleeping?”
The maidservant smiled. “No, Alpha. She just finished eating and is in her bedroom.”
My gaze shifted to the closed bedroom door. Then, without another word, I strode toward it.
Jeffery remained in the living room as I withdrew my hands from my pockets and knocked lightly before pushing the door open.
The scent of chamomile hit me stronger this time.
My eyes immediately found my mother, sitting at the foot of her bed with her back to me. Her long, black hair flowed down her back, reaching her waist.
Her gaze was fixed on the small window, the only source of light in this underground space. It didn’t offer much of a view-just a sliver of the outside world.
I stepped forward quietly, stopping in front of her.
She was wearing a sleeveless floral dress, the soft fabric pooling around her ankles. Her skin was pale-almost unnaturally so. Even Meredith, as fair as she was, couldn’t compare to my mother’s complexion.
She looked both calm and soulless at the same time.
For a long moment, I simply watched her. Then, finally, I bent down to her eye level and spoke.
“Mother.”
Slowly, she turned her head. Her black eyes met mine, studying me.
Then, she smiled. It was gentle, kind-but distant.
And when she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost dreamlike.
“Who are you?”
Draven.
Silence stretched between us as I studied my mother’s face. Time had barely left a mark on her.
Her skin was still smooth, untouched by wrinkles. Her youthfulness was the only gift her illness had given her. But as I stared into her distant black eyes, I saw how much it had stolen as well.
She had been battling it for two decades, worsening after she gave birth to my younger brother. She had never been the same after that.
“You don’t remember me?” I asked quietly. “I was here six months ago, and you already can’t remember?”
Her delicate brows furrowed at my words. A hand lifted to her temple, rubbing lightly. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice gentle, hesitant. “My head… it’s a little messed up sometimes.”
I exhaled softly, keeping my voice steady. “Mother, it’s me. Draven.”
For a moment, she only blinked at me. Then, her smile shifted-warmer, familiar. A flicker of recognition surfaced in her dark gaze. Slowly, she reached out, cupping my face between her hands.
“My child, you have come,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing my jaw, as if memorizing my features. Before I could speak, she stood and wrapped her arms around me.
I let her.
She felt smaller in my embrace-fragile. She tiptoed slightly, pressing a soft kiss to my left cheek before stepping back. Her smile brightened. “You’ve grown so handsome.”
A quiet chuckle escaped me. “Thank you, Mother.”
“I haven’t seen you in ages. Where have you been?” she asked, eyes searching mine.
I didn’t bother to answer. She wouldn’t remember she had asked in the first place. Instead, I guided her back to the bed, helping her sit before pulling a chair in front of her.
Then she turned toward the door. “Cordelia!” she called out. “Bring lunch! My son is here-I want to eat with him.”
I shook my head immediately. “No, Mother. I’m not hungry.”
Her smile faltered. “You won’t eat with your mother?” she asked, just as Cordelia entered the room.
I sighed. “I’m fasting,” I lied carefully, “but for you, I will end it early and have some fruit.”
Cordelia had already told me she’d eaten less than an hour ago. Since she wouldn’t remember, it was better to avoid letting her eat again. Her diet plan had to be followed strictly-she rarely moved, and overeating would only worsen her condition.
“Bring the fruit,” my mother said firmly.
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