A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate-Chapter 64: Midnight Flight

Ovelia’s POV Ann bolted upright so fast the mattress springs shrieked beneath us. Moonlight caught the sharp glint in her widened eyes as she scrambled toward the window, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floorboards. The shutters groaned as she threw them open, revealing a sleek falcon perched on the windowsill, its talons digging into the weathered wood.

"It’s Milo!" Ann’s voice hitched with disbelief. Her fingers hovered just above the falcon’s plumage, trembling slightly. "King Raymond’s personal messenger!"

I rushed to join her, the cold night air prickling my skin. My pulse hammered against my ribs as I studied the magnificent bird. Moonlight glinted off its razor-sharp beak and the royal crest emblazoned on its leather harness. Was this the news we’d been praying for? Or more terrible tidings?

Ann reached out with practiced care, her fingers tracing the falcon’s feathered breast. The bird remained perfectly still, its dark eyes unblinking. "There must be a message," I whispered, my breath forming pale clouds in the chilly air. My gaze darted past the falcon, scanning the star-studded sky for any sign of approaching riders.

With steady hands, Ann unfastened the small parchment tube secured to Milo’s leg. The moment the metal clasp released, the falcon spread its powerful wings and launched into the night without a sound. We both flinched as the gust from its wings stirred our hair.

"He wasn’t waiting for a reply," Ann murmured, watching the falcon disappear into the treeline. A note of professional respect colored her voice. "Trained to perfection."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. The weight of unopened parchment in Ann’s hands felt heavier than it should. "What does it say?" The question came out thin and reedy.

Ann’s fingers made quick work of the wax seal. The crisp sound of unfolding parchment seemed deafening in the quiet room. As she began to read, her voice started strong but grew increasingly strained:

"’Dear Ace, I pray this finds you four unharmed. Critical news - the Crimsonheart Kingdom received intelligence from their peacekeeper stationed at Thunoa Inn. A female witch orchestrates the bandit attacks. She manufactures the new magic chains flooding the black market. Worse still...’" Ann’s breath hitched. "’...a coven plans to move Wednesday night to Northwest Thunoa Forest. Their aims: collect stolen goods and capture live werewolves for auction. You must wait for reinforcements before engaging. Your father, King Raymond Draven.’"

The parchment crinkled in Ann’s tightening grip. Her knuckles stood out white against the browned paper. "Lady Ovelia," she said slowly, "today is Wednesday."

Ice flooded my veins. My vision tunneled until all I could see was Ann’s grave expression. The air grew thick, each breath a struggle. "We have to warn them," I gasped, already turning toward the door. My nightdress tangled around my legs as I moved.

But when I reached for Ann’s arm, she didn’t follow. Her eyes darted away, a shadow passing over her features. The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat, but it sent a fresh wave of dread through me.

Why wouldn’t she meet my gaze?

Ann’s POV

My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting crescent moons into my palms. The parchment from King Raymond crinkled in my tightening grip as I watched Lady Ovelia’s face pale in the moonlight. Every instinct screamed at me - both as a maid and as her protector - that taking her into those dark woods would be madness.

Yet leaving her behind felt just as dangerous. The village walls that had seemed so secure hours ago now felt flimsy as parchment against the threat of witches and bandits. My teeth ground together, the metallic tang of blood blooming where I’d bitten my cheek.

"Ann?" Ovelia’s voice quivered like a plucked bowstring. Her hands, usually so steady when kneading dough, fluttered nervously at her sides.

I exhaled through my nose, forcing my shoulders to relax from their defensive hunch while projecting calm, even as my pulse thundered in my ears.

"Lady Ovelia," I began, catching her chilled fingers between my fingers. Her skin felt like fragile porcelain against my hands. "We’re going after them." I waited until her panicked breathing slowed before continuing. "But you must swear to me - no matter what happens, you stay by my side. Unless..." My throat tightened around the unspoken exception - unless I fall.

She drew in a shuddering breath that made the candle flame dance. I watched the play of shadows across her face as she wrestled with fear.

"I promise, Ann." Her whisper carried the weight of an oath. The tremor in her hands stilled as she squared her shoulders, the firelight catching the determined set of her jaw.

Ovelia’s POV

My hands trembled slightly as I watched Ann dig through our travel bag, her movements sharp with urgency. Then I noticed it - Ace’s sword leaning against the bedside table, its polished hilt catching the candlelight. Before I could second-guess myself, my fingers closed around the leather-wrapped grip. The weight felt foreign in my hands, the blade heavier than I’d anticipated.

Lady Firera’s voice startled me, echoing directly in my mind. "Are you truly going with Ann? Can you even wield that properly?"

I tightened my grip on the sword, feeling the ridges of the leather press into my palm. "I’m going," I responded mentally, my inner voice steadier than I felt. "It’s heavy, but I can manage if needed." A deep breath filled my lungs. "I won’t lie - I’m terrified. But knowing you’re with me, that Ann and the others are fighting too... that gives me strength."

"My powers remain sealed," Lady Firera warned, her mental voice strained. "I can only grant you brief bursts of strength. Use them wisely when danger comes."

"Understood. Thank you." I adjusted my stance, testing the sword’s balance.

Ann turned abruptly, her blazer in hand. The fabric whispered as she shook it out, revealing faint wear along the cuffs. "Here," she said, draping it over my shoulders. "It’s cold outside,"

The blazer still held traces of Ann’s warmth as I slipped my arms through the sleeves. The familiar scent of her lavender soap clung to the fabric—oddly comforting despite the chill in the air. "Thank you," I murmured, my throat tight.

Ann’s gaze dropped to the sword in my hand. Her lips curved into a small, approving smile, but she remained silent. Instead, she offered her hand. My fingers slid between hers. Her thumb brushed across my knuckles in a silent promise.

"Ready?" she whispered.

I nodded, my jaw set.

We crept toward the hallway, pausing outside Chief Gareth’s door. The wood groaned under my hesitant touch. "Shouldn’t we tell them?" I asked, keeping my voice barely audible.

Ann’s eyes darkened as she considered. "If Chief Gareth knows," she breathed, "he’ll insist on accompanying us. The village needs its leader tonight."

The truth of her words settled heavily in my chest. I swallowed hard and nodded.

Our footsteps echoed softly on the wooden stairs, each creak making my pulse jump. The scent of bergamot tea greeted us as we reached the bottom step - and there sat Chief Gareth, his hands cradling a steaming cup. His head lifted sharply at our approach, eyebrows rising. My breath caught as his gaze flicked to the sword at my side. The tea cup clattered against its saucer as he set it down.

Could we leave without revealing our intentions?