Chapter 25
25 Chapter 25 The Scent of Ink
Rowan’s POV
The relentless downpour battered the canvas of the command tent, transforming the military camp into a muddy wasteland. Water seeped through every seam, making the torches sputter and cast wavering shadows across the war maps spread before him.
Alpha Rowan gripped the edge of the wooden table, his knuckles white as he studied the blood-stained battle reports. His uniform still dripped from his earlier inspection of the perimeter, but the chill had long since numbed his skin. The acrid scent of wet metal and saturated leather filled his nostrils.
Before him, a mud-caked scout dropped to one knee, his face streaked with grime and exhaustion.
“We discovered two more bodies along the southern perimeter, the messenger announced grimly. “Identical wounds to the others. Throat punctures.
Veins turned black as coal. The medics confirmed it’s definitely poison p>
Rowan’s fist crashed down on the table’s surface, sending the inkwell trembling and scattering wooden markers across the tactical map.
“Then we’ll answer poison with poison,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “If these cowards choose to fight with venom, we’ll give them a taste of their own medicine. Coat every weapon we have. Let them suffer with each strike we land p>
The scout bobbed his head frantically before attempting to stand.
“Hold on,” Rowan barked sharply. “What’s the status on Hardy’s forces p>
“All present and accounted for, Alpha,” the scout responded, though uncertainty crept into his tone. “Zero fatalities. The field surgeons report no critical wounds either p>
Rowan’s expression darkened considerably.
“Not a single casualty p>
“None whatsoever, sir. Lord Hardy’s troops apparently secured the eastern flank without any losses p>
A vein pulsed visibly along Rowan’s temple. He hunched over the maps, glaring at the tactical
positions as if they had personally betrayed him. The numbers didn’t make sense.
“Where’s Nick stationed p>
The scout’s throat worked nervously. “On patrol duty, Alpha. He’s covering the mansion’s western approach. Took the assignment himself after midnight p>
“Fetch him immediately p>
The messenger fled the tent without another word.
Rowan pivoted toward the battle-scarred veteran occupying a chair near the tent’s edge. Casper, his Chapters first released on
ost reliable lieutenant, bore a jagged scar that traced from his hairline down to his throat, a memento from campaigns long past. Age had forced him from active combat, but his tactical mind remained razor-sharp.
Casper adjusted his position slightly. “We might have miscalculated Physician Allen’s capabilities,” he observed with characteristic calm, his weathered hands clasped over his knees. “The treatment procedures I witnessed last evening exceeded
anything in our standard medical protocols. I’ve only seen such rapid recovery from poisoning in very specific circumstances p>
Rowan remained silent, his jaw working.
“There were whispers,” Casper pressed on methodically. “During his tenure at the royal palace. Stories claimed he maintained connections with fae healers and witch covens. Some accounts suggested he extracted their healing secrets through torture, while others insisted he was among the rare humans who could endure their magical procedures. Most dismissed these tales as folklore. I certainly did… until tonight p>
Rowan’s lip curled in disdain. “Folklore or fact, it’s nothing more than fortunate timing. His forces are constantly mobile. Naturally, they’ve encountered exotic toxins before. Experience isn’t mystical power, it’s simply preparation meeting opportunity p>
Yet even as he spoke, doubt gnawed at his certainty. His gaze returned to the tactical display, fingers tapping an agitated rhythm against the wood.
“But why strike again so quickly?” he muttered under his breath. “The Raven Deons hit us once, created chaos, then disappeared into the shadows. Are they probing Hardy’s defenses? Do they genuinely want us… eliminated p>
Casper’s eyes sharpened. “Possibly. Or they’re searching for something specific p>
Rowan shook his head, but the anxiety persisted. If Hardy had emerged completely unscathed while Allen performed near-miraculous healings, then someone was concealing crucial information, or worse, someone was outmaneuvering him strategically.
And Alpha Rowan Palmer refused to be outplayed.
“Regardless, we need to understand their healing methods. This transcends mere physical prowess. We’re all werewolves. We’ve trained relentlessly and shed blood together. Yet somehow, his people survived that first assault while ours p>
Alpha Rowan couldn’t bear to dwell on the Duskwood pack’s devastating casualty count from the previous
engagement.
“Perhaps correspondence with the King would be prudent,” Casper suggested with a knowing smile. “I believe the time has come to leverage our position and request additional reinforcements. A third of Hardy’s manpower simply cannot provide adequate support during wartime p>
Rowan’s expression hardened. Initially, he had intended to exploit Faye’s death as justification for more troops, but Hardy had somehow anticipated this strategy and rescued his bride. This time, he nodded agreement and accompanied Casper from the tent. The journey to the mansion took little time, and he quickly made his way to his private study.
Rowan peeled off his waterlogged coat and draped it over the iron peg beside the door, watching steam curl upward from the saturated material. The chamber lay shrouded in shadows, illuminated only by a solitary lamp on his desk and the fading coals in the hearth.
He strode purposefully toward his chair, mentally composing the letter he would dispatch to the King, one that would demand military reinforcements under the pretense of national security concerns while
subtly portraying Hardy as an emerging threat. But the instant he reached for the drawer to retrieve writing materials, his attention shifted and locked onto something that made his blood freeze.
The paperweight.
That triangular chunk of silver and granite that had remained motionless for years, its surfaces worn
smooth by age but never displaced from its designated position… it sat at an angle.
Rowan’s eyes narrowed to slits.
He grasped it carefully, lifting the object to his face for
examination.
No scent whatsoever.
Impossible. Even the most cautious servant would leave some trace behind. A fragment of clothing fiber, the slightest residue of skin contact, a disturbed dust mote, anything. Particularly in this chamber, where access was strictly limited to a select few.
But there was no scent at all.
Nothing… except he drew another breath, deeper and
20 Chapter 20 The QUOTE ULIHIN
more deliberate.
Ink.
A metallic, bitter aroma that didn’t match the fresh stack of unopened correspondence on his desk or his personal inkwell, which had remained sealed since dawn.
His lips twisted into something approaching a growl.
Casper, who had maintained his silent vigil near the entrance, stepped closer. “Alpha p>
Rowan turned toward him with deliberate slowness, his eyes becoming dangerous slits.
“Someone has been in this room p>
Morh Lucia
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.