Chapter 119: _ He Chose Her Again

"What in the hells is going on in here?" a deep voice barked from the doorway.

My heart did a traitorous leap against my ribs.

I whipped my head around. Standing at the threshold of our bedchamber was Remus.

He looked devastating. His silver hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands framing his sculpted jawline. He wore a simple dark grey tunic, his broad shoulders easily filling the frame of the doorway. But his face was tight, his brow furrowed in exhausted annoyance.

"I could hear your screaming all the way from my study," Remus said flatly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "May, where are my tactical ledgers for father’s territory reassessment? I asked for them an hour ago."

"Master Remus!" May squeaked, scurrying out from behind the wardrobe like a startled mouse. "I-I apologize, my lord! I was... occupied—"

"Remus! You have to help us! You have to kill her!" Veyra scrambled off the bed, completely ignoring her disheveled state as she sprinted across the room and threw her arms around his waist, sobbing dramatically into his chest.

Remus’s arms remained locked at his sides as he looked down at Veyra with distaste. "Get off me, Veyra. What are you babbling about?"

I stepped forward, placing a sympathetic hand on my chest as I looked up at him with wide, mournful eyes. This was my chance.

Remus had buried himself indoors for the last twenty-four hours, entirely consumed by one of the unending assignments our father had demanded of him. He had been locked in his study, completely unaware of the chaos that had erupted in the Quadrangle yesterday. He hadn’t seen the broadcast.

"Oh, Remus," I sighed, letting my voice quiver with delicate outrage. "It’s awful. Absolutely disgraceful. That markless commoner—Elira No-One—has dragged our academy’s reputation straight through the mud."

Remus’s entire body went rigid. The annoyance in his eyes flickered into stillness. He didn’t move a muscle. "What did she do?"

"She was caught in the cloister!" I gushed, taking a step closer to him, desperate to read every micro-expression on his godlike face. "With Prince Ivar! They were... engaging in the most sickening, public display of filth against the wall! And it was broadcast live on the central scrying glass for the entire student body to see!"

I paused, leaning in closer, dropping my voice to deliver the final blow. "And that’s not even the worst of it, Remus. Ivar marked her. Right there in front of everyone. He claimed her as his mate, dressed her in royal silk, and walked her through our courtyard like she’s some kind of princess."

I watched him like a hawk, waiting for him to sneer. Waiting for him to express disgust at the commoner’s cheap behavior.

Instead, I watched the color slowly drain from Remus’s face.

His handsome features went blank and he plunged into silence.

I knew Remus. I recognized this silence. It was the kind that only took hold of him when his world was fracturing from the inside out. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle throbbed wildly along his cheekbone. I was used to the blankness in his silver eyes but right now, they carried unfiltered heartbreak.

He didn’t say a word. He just stood there, his chest heaving silently.

The spike of jealousy that drove straight through my heart was sharp enough to take my breath away.

No. No, no, no.

I knew Remus better than anyone in the world! He was a quiet man, but when he was truly hurt—when something shattered him to his core—he went completely silent.

Seeing him look like that—standing in his grey tunic, looking like a man who had just been stabbed in the chest over a markless, dragonless nobody—sent a wave of scorching rage pouring through my veins.

He had feelings for her.

The realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. Remus... my Remus... was genuinely, deeply hurt because another man had claimed Elira No-One.

How?! My mind screamed, my nails digging into the palms of my hands until the skin nearly broke. How could he fall for a girl he had barely spoken to?! A girl he doesn’t even know?!

I had been by his side for three years! I had dressed him, braided his silver hair, guarded his door, and offered him my heart, my body, and my devotion! Yet he had never looked at me as anything more than a nagging stepsister. He had never painted my face. He had never looked at me with that raw softness.

I was here first, I thought savagely, my jaw locking as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I deserve him. Not her. Never her.

"Remus, please!" Veyra wailed, clutching his shirt tightly in her fist as she looked up at his pale face."You’re the Dragon Heir! You have to help me teach that markless shit a lesson! She touched what was mine! She took Ivar from me! You need to help us ruin her!"

Remus finally moved.

He didn’t grab Veyra’s shoulders in comfort. He didn’t swear vengeance on the Wolf Prince.

Instead, he reached down, grabbed Veyra’s wrists, and forcefully peeled her fingers off his tunic.

He shoved her back—not enough to knock her down, but hard enough that she stumbled two steps back toward me.

"Stop acting like a spoiled, pathetic brat, Veyra. Ivar Wulfram is a notorious, shameless fornicator who uses women for mana and tosses them in the trash. You chose to lie in his bed, and now you want to cry like a child because he marked someone else?"

Veyra gasped, her jaw dropping as expected of a person betrayed. "Remus!"

"Focus on finding your actual fated mate instead of embarrassing our lineage across the courtyard," Remus spat coldly, his eyes sweeping over both of us. He turned his back on us, stepping past the doorway. "May. Get the ledgers and bring them to my study immediately."

Without throwing a single glance back in our direction, Remus walked away.

He... he had called Ivar a fornicator but not her. Not once did he make mention of that filthy whore.

Veyra stood frozen for three seconds before turning and running back to me, flinging her arms around my waist as fresh sobs wracked her body. "What has gotten into him?! Vaela, why is he acting like this to us?! Why is he defending her?!"

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t.

My breath came in hot gasps as a blinding fury consumed every single thought in my head. I didn’t care about Veyra’s tears anymore. I didn’t care about Remus’s cold rejection.

Remus had chosen her again. Just like he did in the Great Hall. He had chosen a markless trench rat over his own family.

I pushed Veyra off me, grabbing my heavy woolen cloak from the chair and throwing it over my shoulders.

"Vaela?" Veyra whimpered, wiping her face. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere important, Veyra. Wait for me."

That spineless, iron-smith idiot. That pathetic, hopeless fool who claimed to love me! That’s who I was going to see.

Why didn’t he follow the immaculate plan I gave him?! Why did he shoot his scrying glass while she was with a prince?! Why did he give that markless shit eternal glory by broadcasting her being claimed by royal blood instead of ruining her with a peasant?!

As I slammed the door behind me and marched down the stone corridor toward the third-year barracks, a murderous promise crystallized in my chest.

Corvus d’Vael was going to pay for his failure.

And Elira No-One was going to burn.