Mated To My Mate's Worst Enemy Chapter 125

ARIA

"Good," Nina said, and she actually smiled slightly. "Now, let me show you what I'm thinking for your first official contribution..."

We spent the next hour discussing potential roles I could take on. Nothing dramatic or high-profile—Nina was clear that I needed to start small, prove myself in manageable ways before taking on more significant responsibilities. But there were opportunities: coordinating with the kitchens on supply management, helping organize the pack's record-keeping systems, even assisting with some of the security administrative work.

By the time I left Nina's office, I felt something I hadn't felt in days: purpose. Direction. A concrete plan for how to move forward instead of just wallowing in hurt and resentment.

I was heading back toward my chambers when I heard voices drifting from one of the smaller meeting rooms. The door was slightly ajar, and I recognized both speakers immediately: Kael and Ivory.

I should have kept walking. Should have given them privacy. Should have learned my lesson about eavesdropping on conversations that weren't meant for my ears.

But I found myself stopping, drawn by some compulsion I didn't fully understand. Some need to hear what they said to each other when they thought they were alone.

"Thank you for believing in me," Ivory was saying, her voice soft but clear. "For trusting my word about the evidence. For approving the execution plan even though it put you in an impossible position."

"You don't need to thank me," Kael replied, and I heard the warmth in his voice that he always used with her. "I've always believed you. Always trusted your judgment."

"I know," Ivory said. "But I also know what it cost you. The stress it put on your bond with Aria. The position it forced you into—choosing between your mate and your history with me. And I'm sorry for that. I understand if you hate me for it."

"I don't hate you," Kael said immediately, and through the crack in the door I saw him reach out to touch her shoulder. The casual intimacy of the gesture made something twist in my chest. "And your apology isn't needed. You did what was necessary to catch the real attacker. To prove Aria's innocence. I can't fault you for that."

"But you're angry," Ivory observed. "I can see it in your face. Hear it in your voice. So if you don't hate me, what are you angry about?"

Kael was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was heavy with frustration.

"I'm angry that you still haven't recovered your memories," he said. "Angry that you don't remember how valuable and important your words are. How much weight they carry. How people—including me—will trust you absolutely even in situations where that trust puts us in impossible positions."

"The elders all agreed to the execution," Ivory pointed out. "It wasn't just you."

"The elders agreed because you asked for it," Kael corrected. "Because your word has never been wrong before. Because you've never lied or manipulated or abused the trust people place in you. From the very beginning—from the moment you woke up and told us what you remembered—your story was consistent. You genuinely didn't see the attacker. Your perception was exactly what you reported, compromised by poison but truthful within those limitations."

"And then I stopped the elders from punishing Aria immediately," Ivory added. "Asked for more time. Gave her the chance to investigate."

"Exactly," Kael said. "You gave her time. Gave her freedom when you could have demanded immediate imprisonment. And I couldn't even help with the investigation because the elders told me that meeting with Aria while she was under suspicion would hurt my credibility. That I needed to maintain distance to preserve the integrity of the process."

I felt a jolt of surprise at that revelation. Kael hadn't been avoiding me out of choice—he'd been ordered to maintain distance by the elders.

"When nobody expected you to lead a secret investigation," Kael continued, "when everyone thought we'd just wait for more evidence to emerge naturally—you went out and actively hunted for the truth. Used your life as collateral, knowing that if you lied, if you tried to use this situation to eliminate Aria, you'd be dead seconds after her."

"But you're not happy," Ivory observed.

"No, I'm not," Kael said, and now his voice carried real anger. "I'm not happy that Sera knew enough about our pack dynamics to use you as bait to kill Aria. That she understood if the accusation came from you specifically, we'd all believe it without question. That she engineered the entire situation to exploit your credibility."

He paused, and I heard him take a breath before continuing.

"If Sera had used anyone else—any other pack member making that accusation—I would have called for more investigation. Would have dismissed the case if evidence was insufficient. Would have protected Aria more aggressively. But because it was you, because your word carries that absolute weight, I was trapped. Had to approve your plan even though every instinct was screaming that it was too dangerous, too cruel, too unfair to Aria."

"I'm sorry," Ivory said quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kael asked, and I heard hurt beneath the anger. "Why didn't you let me know you were investigating? That the execution call was a trap?"

"Because if I had," Ivory said, "if you'd been in on it, your hesitation when I asked for the execution wouldn't have been there. You would have agreed outright, immediately, without any of the conflict that showed on your face. And the spy would have seen that. Would have recognized something was wrong."

She paused, and when she continued, her voice was softer.

"And a part of me was petty enough to want to see if I could still count on our supposed history together. If your trust in me remained absolute even without your memories of why you should trust me."