Chapter 12
The imperial corridors of the Valestine palace were silent save for the sharp, echoing click of heeled boots against polished obsidian stone. Towering pillars lined the hall, casting long, jagged shadows under the cold glow of silver sconces. At the far end stood the massive double doors of the Emperor's private chambers—crafted from dark, ancient wood reinforced with intricate gold filigree and heavy iron latches.
The Queen came to an abrupt halt before them, her jaw set and her royal composure frayed at the edges. Without waiting for the guards flanking the entrance to announce her presence, she raised a trembling, ring-clad fist and pounded heavily against the wood. The dull thuds reverberated down the empty hall as she stood rigid, her chest rising and falling sharply while she waited for the Emperor to answer.
When only silence met her, she continued pounding against the heavy doors, knowing full well he was intentionally ignoring her.
"Xerxes, I know you're in there! Answer me right now!" she demanded, her voice echoing sharply off the stone walls.
Her words fell on deaf ears as no one answered the door. The guards exchanged uneasy glances as the air in the corridor grew heavy and tense, and the Queen drew herself up to her full height, her voice ringing out with sharp authority.
"As your Queen, I command you to open this door right now—as if I don't have all the right and authority to command you!"
After several agonizing minutes, the heavy door finally swung open, revealing the composed face of the Emperor's personal attendant. With a polite bow, the butler stepped aside, clearing the way for the Queen to pass through.
Without sparing the attendant a glance, the Queen marched briskly into the vast, dimly lit study, heading straight toward the grand mahogany desk at the far end of the room. Behind it sat Xerxes, leaned back effortlessly in his high-backed velvet chair, one ankle crossed casually over his knee. His fingers tapped an unbothered rhythm against the carved armrest while his dark, unreadable gaze lingered lazily on the scattered parchments before him—completely unfazed by the commotion she had just caused outside.
She slammed both hands flat onto the surface of his desk, leaning forward with flashing eyes. "What do you think you're doing?"
She was paid back with heavy silence. Not a muscle in Xerxes's face twitched, nor did he bother to lift his eyes from the parchment in his hand.
The Queen's jaw tightened, her voice dropping into an urgent, commanding hiss. "As if you don't know the danger you're putting this kingdom in, Xerxes. You need to go and get your mate—for the safety of this kingdom!"
Xerxes slowly set the parchment down and finally raised his eyes to meet hers, his gaze sharp and devoid of warmth. "First of all, it's Emperor to you," he said evenly, his voice low and dangerously calm. "And you don't have the right to tell me what to do to protect my kingdom. I'll do what I think is right—and what I know is right is letting that mere creation go back to where it came from, not putting it where it doesn't belong."
The Queen's breath hitched, her eyes blazing with fury as she slammed her hands down harder against the mahogany. "I'm your mother, and you have no right to talk to me like that! Don't ever talk to me or your mate like that. Without an heir, your mate is needed in this kingdom, or the kingdom will fall apart without him by your side."
Xerxes finally stood up, towering over the desk as a cold, dangerous pressure bled into the room. "Mom, I will have you know that I've handled this kingdom before he came, before you arranged that stupid ball and invited those malevolent creatures into our kingdom."
"Xerxes!" she shouted, her voice ringing through the cavernous study with furious disbelief. Stepping closer, she fired back, "Steady your beliefs, Xerxes—even if Selene hadn't fated him to you, I was going to betroth him to you and arrange for you two to be married!"
Xerxes let out a harsh, bitter laugh, leaning over the desk as his dark eyes locked onto hers with absolute defiance. "Mom, I won't have you also controlling my life and my destiny by binding me to someone else—to a werewolf!"
The Queen stepped closer, her voice dropping into a deadly, unyielding ultimatum. "You had better cross that ocean, find him, and bring him right back here, Xerxes—or there is going to be a war in this kingdom, and you won't like what I am going to do."
"Look at what your stubbornness has reduced you to," she added, her voice cutting through the heavy, tense air like a blade. Her long, silvery hair—the exact shade of Rain's—caught the dim light as she looked up at her son without a shred of maternal warmth. "A Valestine without his mate is a beast waiting to tear itself apart from the inside out. If you do not retrieve him and set things right, I will declare war myself."
Without waiting for his reply, she whipped around, her dark robes sweeping the floor as she stormed out of the study. The heavy double doors slammed shut behind her with a resounding crash that shook the dust from the gold filigree. Her expression was a mask of cold fury as she walked rigidly down the long, empty corridor, the furious echo of her heels beating against the obsidian stone fading slowly into the silent depths of the palace.
Darkness settled heavily over the Valestine palace as the ninth hour arrived. Inside his private bedchamber, the quiet was shattered by a sudden, violent gasp.
Xerxes collapsed onto the edge of his bed, his massive frame trembling as a searing agony tore through his chest—feeling as though molten fire had been poured directly into his veins. He bit down hard on his lower lip, choking back a roar as the blistering heat radiated outward, consuming his torso and spreading relentlessly through his entire body. He gripped the heavy silk sheets in a white-knuckled fist, unable to bear the torment as every nerve burned from the inside out.
Deep beneath his skin, his other half—the towering, untamed Valestine beast—stirred in violent rebellion, calling out relentlessly for its mate. Even though they were far above ordinary werewolves, their primal nature still held one undeniable truth: a Valestine's beast could never truly be tamed without its mate to anchor it. And without Rain by his side, the beast was tearing him apart from within.
Unable to hold the agony back a second longer, Xerxes threw his head back and unleashed a deafening, guttural roar that bled into a low, earth-shaking growl. The inhuman sound rattled the heavy oak doors of his chamber and echoed violently down the long obsidian corridors. Outside the entrance, the stationed guards stiffened in terror, their hands tightening around their spears as the sheer primal pressure made the air feel suffocating. Even on the upper floors, the palace maidens froze in their tracks, trembling at the chilling sound reverberating through the stone walls—a stark reminder of the terrifying beast sleeping beneath their Emperor's skin.
Elsewhere in the palace, the Queen's chambers were a portrait of quiet royal elegance. Dressed in flowing silk nightwear, she sat poised in a plush, velvet-cushioned armchair beside a tall arched window overlooking the moonlit courtyard. An open leather-bound book rested delicately in her hands, while her personal lady-in-waiting stood behind her, slowly drawing an ivory brush through her long, silvery hair in rhythmic, soothing strokes—catching the moonlight in a shimmering cascade.
The tranquil atmosphere shattered when the chamber doors burst open without a knock. A breathless maid rushed inside, pale-faced and trembling, dropping hastily into a panicked curtsy before the startled Queen.
"My Lady, please pardon my intrusion!" the maid stammered, her voice shaking as she struggled to catch her breath. "There is a terrible commotion coming from the Emperor's wing—his guards are beside themselves, and an inhuman roar just shook the halls! Something is happening to His Majesty!"
Without so much as lifting her eyes from the pages of her book, the Queen answered with icy indifference. "Leave him," she said, her voice cool and unbothered as the ivory brush continued gliding through her silvery hair. "He should not be attended to, nor given a single thought. He deserves to suffer for his indiscretion."
"But, my Queen—" the maid began, her voice trembling with hesitation.
"You may leave now," the Queen cut in sharply, her tone brooking no argument as she dismissed the maid's words entirely.
With a silent bow, the maid hurried out, pulling the heavy doors shut behind her. As the latch clicked into place, the Queen smoothly returned her focus to her reading, muttering coldly beneath her breath, "One who dares to defy fate should be ready to face its consequences."
Left completely unattended, the Emperor's torment raged on—his deafening roars and guttural growls echoing relentlessly through the stone halls of the palace all through the night until the first light of daybreak.
When morning light finally spilled across the obsidian floors of the palace, the heavy double doors of the Emperor's bedchamber swung open.
Xerxes stepped out into the corridor looking completely composed—immaculately dressed, clean, and proper from head to toe, carrying himself with cold, effortless grace as though the violent, agonizing night had never happened at all. Not a hair was out of place, and his expression was carved from stone, betraying not even a flicker of the torment that had shaken the palace walls until dawn.
The guards standing watch outside snapped instantly to attention, bowing deeply while struggling to hide their shock at seeing him emerge completely unscathed. Without sparing them a glance, Xerxes strode calmly down the long hall toward his study, his personal assistant walking briskly at his side, ready to brief him on the day's imperial affairs.
Arriving at the end of the corridor, Nigel pushed open the heavy double doors to the study, stepping aside to let the Emperor pass.
Xerxes strode inside—only to pause mid-step, a rare flicker of shock crossing his composed features as he saw his mother already seated inside, waiting calmly for him.
Recovering quickly from his surprise, Xerxes inclined his head in a brief, formal bow—offering her the customary respect due to her station while keeping his expression guarded and cool.
"Empress," he greeted evenly, his voice low and composed. "What are you doing here?"
The Empress leaned back comfortably in her seat, her silvery hair catching the morning light streaming through the study windows as a knowing, razor-sharp smile curved her lips. Her eyes swept slowly over his immaculate attire and unblemished posture before meeting his dark gaze.
"I came to see what you look like after the eventful night you had," she replied smoothly, her voice dripping with quiet amusement. "But seeing how you look so unscratched and fine... let's see how we do."
Rising gracefully from her seat, the Empress walked closer until she stood directly in front of him, invading his personal space without a trace of hesitation. Despite his towering stature, she reached up with practiced authority and drew his head down toward hers, effortlessly spreading a heavy, palpable wave of energy around the two of them—sealing off the space between mother and son as she sensed the true state of his strength beneath his composed facade.
"Seeing as your energy is depleting, you won't have long trying to hold it back," she murmured, her eyes narrowing meaningfully as she referred to the untamed Valestine nature roaring just beneath his skin. "Even you cannot keep it from claiming what is rightfully its."
Slowly, deliberately, she released his head and stepped back, letting the heavy veil of her energy dissipate into the quiet air of the study.
Without waiting for a reply, the Empress turned on her heel, her silk robes trailing smoothly behind her as she glided past Nigel and walked out of the study, pulling the heavy doors shut in her wake.
Silence settled heavily over the room once more, leaving Xerxes standing alone with his assistant—the weight of his mother's warning hanging thick in the air.
Slowly, Xerxes exhaled a measured breath, turning on his heel and walking over to his heavy mahogany desk. He sank heavily into his high-backed seat, his expression mask-like as he steepled his fingers, gesturing for Nigel to proceed.
Nigel immediately stepped forward, unrolling a parchment scroll and beginning the daily report of the empire's affairs. "Your Majesty, the border patrols report no unusual movements from the western territories, and the treasury delegation from—"
Xerxes raised a single hand, cutting him off midway through the report. The assistant blinked, instantly falling silent and lowering the scroll.
"Ready the plane," Xerxes commanded, his voice cold, final, and carrying the undeniable weight of an Emperor who had finally run out of time. "We are leaving."