Chapter 218

The wolf realm:

Twenty-four hours.

Aire had been gone for twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four hours since the portal swallowed her, and twenty-four hours since the dark fae took her. Twenty-four hours without a single lead.

Without a single clue. There was not a single way to reach her.

The silence stretched in the throne room.

Hundreds of witches knelt across the marble floor. Their wrists were bound, and their magic was suppressed.

Guards stood around them from every direction, trapping them with the intention of beheading then at the slightest move.

Nobody moved, and none of them breathed too loudly.

At the center of it all, Nate stood there, pacing back and forth in the pattern of breakdown. He paced back and forth repeatedly.

The sound of his boots striking marble echoed throughout the room. Every step carried enough tension to make the nearest guards nervous.

Nobody approached him. His grief was obviously too raw, terrifying, and ugly grief.

His bond with Aire felt empty, broken, and silent. That was so wrong. The sensation was driving him insane.

Nate stopped walking.

The sudden stillness made several witches flinch.

His eyes slowly lifted.

The room seemed to grow colder.

Twenty-three hours.

It’s been twenty-three hours since they had been questioning these witches. Twenty-three hours of silence, and excuses.

Twenty-three hours of pretending they knew nothing.

His jaw tightened. “Ask them again.” He ordered the guards. His voice was quiet, and that somehow made it worse.

One of the guards swallowed.

Xander stepped forward instead. He also looked exhausted, with veins at the corner of his head, and his forehead.

He didn’t know how to show what he was feeling, and what was going on in him. His clothes were wrinkled, and his hair looked as though he had forgotten it existed.

He stared at the kneeling witches.

“We are running out of patience.” He told them calmly, going to save more lives than waste. He doesn’t know what he would do to them the moment his patience wears out and he genuinely doesn’t want to know.

Aire was gone. Can they not see that, and be sensible enough to speak?

The witches remained silent.

Xander exhaled slowly, clenching his fist as he struggled to keep it all in. He should be a ruler and not rule with his emotions.

“The fae,” he began. “The portals.” He mentioned waiting for it to ring a bell, but they remained silent. He went on. “The agreements your covens once made.”

Still, they remained silent.

Xander rubbed his forehead.

His patience was beginning to crack too. Not as badly as Nate’s, but it was happening.

Across the room, Alaric remained motionless. He stood beside the throne like a statue carved from ice.

His expression hadn’t changed once. Not once. That frightened people more than Nate’s rage.

He was thinking, and when Alaric became quiet, people died.

His eyes drifted across the witches.

One by one, watching and studying them. He remembered being the stupid one among his brothers to let Marsili live. He caused all of these.

King Elijah sat upon the throne. He also looked exhausted, and older. Twenty-four hours had aged everyone.

His fingers tightened around the armrest.

Aire had become family to his sons. He doesn’t fully accept her, but this isn’t about him.

The thought of her trapped somewhere beyond their reach felt unbearable. He never dreamt of his sons going through what he went through when he lost their mother.

Nate instantly stopped pacing. The room instantly grew tense, as every head turned, and every eye followed him.

He walked toward the nearest witch.

She was a young female. Perhaps thirty, or younger. Terror immediately flooded her face.

Nate crouched before her. His voice remained calm. “Where is she?” He asked, one last time.

The witch swallowed. She said nothing, and simply stared into his eyes, as if challenging him, while trying hard not to challenge him.

Nate smiled thinly. The expression held absolutely no warmth. “Wrong answer.”

The witch trembled. She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

His eyes narrowed. “Try again.”

Tears appeared instantly in her eyes. “I don’t know.” She repeated. “I know nothing of the faes. I was born in this realm.” She added desperately. “I was born after the war.”

Nate stared at her.

Several seconds passed between them. He stayed quiet, as if considering her words. In truth, he wasn’t.

The room became so quiet people could hear breathing.

Finally, Nate stood straight.

The witch released a tiny breath, and relief appeared across her face, as her expression relaxed.

However, her relief only lasted for one second. One very unfortunate second.

The next second, Nate grabbed her throat, and the relief vanished. A scream tore from her mouth at the sudden grip.

A sickening crack echoed through the throne room, and the scream stopped.

The witch collapsed on the floor, dead.

Just like that.

Even the other witches looked horrified. Her body hit the floor with her head off her neck.

Nate stepped over it, and his eyes found the others.

“Now.” His voice echoed through the hall. “Who wants to talk?”

Still, no one answered. Their eyes held a strong fire of stubbornness in them. They all tighten their lips, and then the silence returned.

Nate stared at them, waiting. His claws elongated, sharpy and waiting. “You think this is a game?”

His voice cracked. For the first time. He doesn’t want to fight them. He wouldn’t mind but without them, there would be no single hope to trace Aire.

Can they all simply cooperate? He needs her back. She’s his moon, and he’s just a cloud that circles around her.

His eyes became red, and his claws retreated. “She is gone.” He yelled desperately, as he hit his chest once, to stop himself from choking.

Nobody answered.

“Do you understand that?”

Still, nobody answered.

The room darkened.

Nate took another step toward a second witch. An older witch with grey hair, and a terrified eyes.

He seized the front of her robes and hauled her forward until barely an inch separated them.

“Tell me.” Warm flecks of spit landed against her cheek as he snarled the words directly into her face.

The witch squeezed her eyes shut. She swallowed, her eye lids visibly trembling as she shut her eyes in fear.

“I can’t.” She blurred out quickly.