The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 99

Chapter 99- The Quiet Before the Storm

Thoren

I caught the sharp flicker in Nevara’s eye before she even spoke.

“She’s sneaking around again,” she muttered, voice low but tight. “I know Michelle promised she wouldn’t get into the party, but I don’t trust it. Handle it.”

My gaze followed hers. Sure enough, Bethany was lurking just past the pillars-shoulders stiff, mouth pinched, watching the arriving guests like a predator trying not to salivate.

As if on cue, a blur of motion darted across the cobbled courtyard. Jonas, chasing a runaway ball, barreled straight toward a cluster of nobles from the Northern Skylands. One startled woman gasped and nearly dropped her reticule.

I moved without thinking.

A few long strides had me scooping up the ball in one hand and snagging the back of the boy’s tunic with the other before he could cause a diplomatic incident. “Easy there, little wolf, “I said, handing him the ball. “This isn’t a playground.”

Jonas blinked up at me. “Sorry.”

“Come on.” I turned him gently but firmly in the direction of his mother. “Let’s go find your

mom.”

Bethany straightened as I approached, arms folding across her chest like she had any right

to be defiant.

“You’re making people nervous,” I told her plainly, offering the ball back to Jonas. “You need to stay in your quarters today.”

She scoffed. “I wasn’t doing anything. Just getting some fresh air.”

I didn’t move. “Bethany.”

She bristled. “I have a right to be here. My son-”

“Will stay put in your room as well,” I said. “You were told to stay out of sight, and I expect you to follow through.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You think hiding me will make all of this disappear? It won’t. People will find out.”

“They’ll find out exactly what I allow,” I said coolly. “You’re here under my terms. Don’t push

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me.”

Her jaw tightened, but she grabbed Jonas by the hand and yanked him toward the guest wing. “This isn’t over,” she muttered as she passed me.

I didn’t answer. Let her throw her tantrum behind a locked door.

I turned back to the courtyard just in time to see Sabrina ushering Nevara through the double doors that led to the inner halls. My mate glanced back once-eyes meeting mine-and then she vanished from view.

Probably heading up to get ready.

The thought warmed me, briefly. Tonight was ours.

Or it should’ve been.

“King Thoren,” came a low voice beside me.

I turned to find an envoy from the Western Borderlands waiting, hands clasped in front of him and expression politely expectant.

“My lord,” he said. “If I might borrow a moment of your time. There are some…”

I stopped listening, I couldn’t focus on what he was saying.

But as I walked beside the envoy, half-listening to some minor political concern about trade routes and shared border patrols, I caught one last glimpse of Nevara’s retreating form-her silhouette framed in light as she was led upstairs to prepare for what should be one of the most important nights of our lives.

And it hit me like a blow to the chest.

What the hell was I doing?

I was letting this linger. Letting Bethany skulk around in shadows like a viper in tall grass, letting whispers build behind closed doors, letting Nevara shoulder the brunt of tension l should’ve already ended.

She was right. Bethany was going to crash the party. She wasn’t going to sit in her room like some obedient guest-not after everything. She was going to twist the knife at the worst possible moment and try to drag my mate into the mud right alongside her.

Not tonight.

Not our night.

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I stopped walking mid-sentence and turned to the envoy. “My apologies. We’ll continue this after the party.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Of course, my lord.”

gave a curt nod and strode across the courtyard, every step harder than the last. I spotted one of the sentries stationed near the main hall and motioned him over.

“You,” I said. “With me. We’ve got a guest who’s worn out her welcome.”

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t hesitate.

Together, we made our way to the guest wing. The hallway leading to Bethany’s room felt like

a gauntlet-memories of restraint and second chances trailing behind me like ghosts. But restraint had its limits.

I knocked once, sharply.

Bethany opened the door wearing an expression that was already halfway smug. “Changed your mind?”

“Yes,” I said. “About being polite.”

Her smirk faltered.

“I’m rescinding my hospitality,” I said flatly. “You’ve proven that you can’t follow basic boundaries or instructions. And I’m done waiting for you to make this worse.”

–

She laughed a harsh, brittle sound. “So what? You’re going to lock me in my room now?”

“No. I’m going to escort you off royal grounds. You’ll be taken to a hotel in town. You’ll have everything you need for the night-and guards stationed outside to make sure you don’t cause trouble for anyone else.”

“You can’t be serious.”

I stepped forward, eyes locked on hers. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

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