Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 16

Isolde's POV

 

Ten minutes later, I finally managed to compose myself enough to leave the locker room. I'd splashed cold water on my face and changed into a spare pair of sweatpants, trying to erase any evidence of what had happened out there.

 

I was so lost in my thoughts, so focused on getting back to the Alliance residence building, that I didn't see the person coming around the corner until it was almost too late.

 

I jerked to a stop just inches away from colliding with Evanthe.

 

"Shit, sorry, I didn't see—" I started to say, but the words died in my throat when I saw her expression.

 

Evanthe had gone completely still, her green eyes wide with something that looked like shock. She stared at me for a long moment, taking in my flushed face, my disheveled appearance, the gym bag clutched in my hands.

 

"You," she said slowly, and there was an odd quality to her voice, like someone putting together pieces of a puzzle. "You were just in the arena."

 

"Yes," I said warily. "I was training."

 

She repeated the words like she was testing them. Her gaze swept over me again, more carefully this time, and I saw the exact moment when understanding dawned in her eyes.

 

"Oh," she breathed, and then her expression transformed completely. The shock was replaced by something much more dangerous—a cold, calculating anger that made my skin crawl.

 

"Now I know why Ezra came here today," she said, her voice taking on a sharp edge.

 

My stomach dropped. "What are you talking about?"

 

"Don't play stupid with me," Evanthe snapped, stepping closer. "Ezra hasn't been here for a long time. But today, for some mysterious reason, he decided to make an appearance. And here you are, looking like—" She gestured vaguely at my appearance, her lip curling with distaste.

 

Heat flooded my cheeks. "I don't know what you're implying—"

 

"I'm not implying anything," she said coolly. "I'm stating facts. Ezra showed up at the arena today because of you. The question is, why?"

 

"That's ridiculous.."

 

Evanthe laughed, but there was no humor in it. "The question is what you did to catch his attention."

 

Before I could respond, footsteps echoed down the corridor. Two figures approached—Orion, still in his training clothes, and behind him...

 

Ezra.

 

My breath caught in my throat as that familiar scent hit me again—pine and winter air and something indefinably masculine. But this time, I was prepared for it. I locked my knees, clenched my hands at my sides, and focused on breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.

 

It helped. Barely.

 

"Evanthe," Orion said as they reached us, his voice carrying a note of mild surprise. "What are you doing down here?"

 

"I was just having an enlightening conversation with Miss Blackwood," she replied, her tone deceptively pleasant. But I could see the fury simmering beneath the surface, barely contained.

 

Ezra's golden eyes found mine, and I felt that familiar jolt of awareness. His gaze lingered on my face, taking in my flushed cheeks and the obvious signs of my recent emotional turmoil.

 

"Is there a problem here?" he asked quietly, though his attention remained focused on me.

 

"No problem at all," Evanthe said quickly, but there was a brittle quality to her voice. "I was just... getting acquainted with one of our Alliance participants."

 

"Orion," Ezra said finally, not taking his eyes off me, "take your sister back to her office. I'm sure she has work to do."

 

*Sister?* I looked between Orion and Evanthe with new understanding. The family resemblance was there if you knew to look for it—the same strong jawline, the same confident bearing.

 

Evanthe's eyes flashed with something—anger, maybe, or frustration. "Ezra, I don't think that's—"

 

"Now, Orion," Ezra said quietly, and there was no mistaking the command in his voice.

 

"Come on, Ev," Orion said, placing a hand on his sister's arm. "Let's go."

 

Evanthe shot me a look that promised this conversation was far from over, but she allowed Orion to guide her away.

 

I kept my breathing shallow, trying to minimize my exposure to his scent, but I could still feel my body responding to his presence.

 

"How long have you been training?" he asked finally.

 

The question caught me off guard. "Excuse me?"

 

"Fighting. How long?"

 

"Since I was eight," I said, confused by the mundane nature of the question. "My father insisted on it."

 

"And before coming here? Did you compete? Fight professionally?"

 

"No. Just... recreational training. Self-defense." I paused. "Why?"

 

He didn't answer immediately, just continued studying me with those unsettling eyes. "Where in Emerald Valley did you grow up?"

 

"By the river."

 

"Rough neighborhood."

 

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

 

"And your mother? Is she still in Emerald Valley?"

 

The question hit me like a physical blow. I felt my face tighten, and I saw him notice the reaction.

 

"My mother is gone," I said quietly.

 

"Gone?"

 

"She left when I was sixteen. Haven't seen her since."

 

Something flickered in his expression—sympathy, maybe, or recognition. "I'm sorry."

 

"It was a long time ago."

 

Another silence fell between us. I shifted uncomfortably, very aware of how alone we were in this corridor, how close he was standing.

 

"Orion says you have potential," he said finally.

 

"As a fighter?"

 

"As a survivor." His gaze intensified. "This place can be... challenging for those who aren't prepared for it."

 

*Is that a warning?* "I can take care of myself."

 

"Can you?" There was something almost gentle in his voice, which made it somehow more unsettling than if he'd been harsh. "Because what I observed today suggests you might face some... unique difficulties here."

 

My face burned with humiliation. He had seen something, had noticed my reaction in the arena. The mortification was almost overwhelming.

 

"I don't know what you think you saw—"

 

"I think," he said quietly, "that you're more than you appear to be, Isolde Blackwood."

 

Before I could ask what he meant by that, he stepped back.

 

"Get some rest," he said, his voice returning to its usual distant professionalism. "Tomorrow will bring new challenges."

 

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the corridor with more questions than answers.

 

I made my way back to the Alliance Residence in a daze.

 

Back in my room, I locked the door and moved to the nightstand where I kept the framed photograph of my parents. I picked it up, studying my mother's radiant smile, remembering her strength and grace even in the face of our family's mounting problems.

 

*I wish you were here to tell me what to do,* I thought, tracing her face with my finger. *Because I have a feeling things are about to get much more complicated.*