Chapter 80: She’s My Mate!

The blood drained from my face so fast my vision tingled.

’He knows!’ Riven shrieked inside my mind. ’He is mocking us because he knows! He knows we touched her! Kill him before he tells Zev!’

Shut up, Riven!Let me think!

Raice briefly glanced at my hands that were gripping his collar before his lips twitched. As if to add to my paranoia, a laugh bubbled out of his throat.

"Is this a joke to you?" I spat, tightening my grip on his collar. "Do I look like I’m joking, Raice?"

Raice’s laughter died instantly. "Since when did the Wolf Prince turn into the kissing warden? Especially for the same girl you kissed yourself?"

A shockwave went through my chest.

What?

H-how on... why would Raice know? I was the only one there with Elira and her unconscious friends. Does that mean she remembered? Did she tell him?

SHE TOLD HIM!

She sided with another man over her own mate. Why that snitchy little thing.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re losing your mind."

"Lie to yourself all you want, Wulfram," Raice purred. "Two nights ago. At the base of the Sunken Arch. You saved her from that Sylven, carried her down, and pressed your lips right to her forehead before running away like a scared pup."

My jaw dropped.

SHE REALLY DID TELL HIM!

But why... why would she?

’I think he was stalking her too. Our mate is loyal to us,’ Riven huffed, defending Elira again.

Hold on...

Remus had been there, stalking her from the clouds. What say the Mad Prince couldn’t do the same?

You’re a genius, Riven!

"Don’t tell me you were stalking her too," I squinted at him.

Raice smoothed down his wrinkled tunic. "That is my business, not yours. But since you came marching into my estate acting like a righteous warden fighting for first-year kissing rights... maybe you should explain your own behavior first."

I felt completely cornered. I had strutted into his lair ready to lecture him, and within three minutes, the Mad Fae Prince had stripped my secrets bare.

As I stood there stammering, Raice stepped close to me and the ambient temperature dropped instantly. An erratic sheen coated his violet eyes.

"Tell me, Ivar," he whispered, leaning in so close I could smell his raw Fae magic. "Did the girl use her dark magic on you too?"

I blinked, thoroughly thrown off. "What? What are you talking about?"

"The dark magic," Raice insisted, gesturing toward his chest. "The influence. I made out with that girl because I was under the spell of her dark magic. She planted a compulsion in my mind."

I stared at him in stunned disbelief.

Was he really serious right now?

Dark magic? Elira didn’t even possess a dragon mark. She had zero mana reserves, no family lineage, and couldn’t even conjure a wisp of flame to light a candle. The idea of her wielding dark magic on a royal Fae Prince was completely absurd.

’He’s lost it,’ Riven whimpered in my head. ’Ivar, his brain is scrambled. He’s completely mad.’

Before I could answer, Raice’s head snapped back toward the ceiling. He glared at the bare stone arches above.

"Shut up! It wasn’t some latent inner desire! I know what I’m saying! Stop interrupting me!" He screamed at the empty air.

He was arguing with nothing. Just drifting dust motes and cold air.

Oh, gods.

What was I even doing here? I was a prince of the Wolf Realm, an elite strategist. Yet I had skipped breakfast just to stand in a ruined cavern and argue with a certified lunatic about a girl who had publicly demanded my arrest eight hours ago.

Elira No-One, look what you’re doing to me, you sneaky little thing.

"Right," I muttered, backing toward the heavy iron door. "Okay. I really need to be leaving now. Enjoy talking to your ceiling, Raice."

I turned around and reached for the iron latch.

A cold hand clamped around my upper arm, jerking me backward. I whipped around, my fangs extending. "Touch me again, Fae, and I’ll—"

"I know what’s wrong with both of us," Raice interrupted. His violet eyes were now entirely unhinged.

I paused, squinting. "You do?"

"Yes," Raice whispered, his grip tightening. "She is a Borrowed."

My eyebrows drew together in deep confusion. "A what?"

"A Borrowed," Raice repeated in frantic excitement. "A shadow-spy from hell! Her mission in this Academy is to put every single royal Prince under her fingertips! Think about it, Ivar! Look at the pattern! Didn’t you notice how every single one of us is suddenly involved with her in an abnormal way?!"

He began pacing back and forth across the floor, gesturing wildly with his hands.

"Remus protected her at the ball! Ajax made her his first dance! And now you and I are standing in my quarters, fighting over who kissed her first! She is a parasitic entity weaving a web around our minds!"

I knew Raice was crazy, but hearing him weave this elaborate conspiracy theory around a poor, dragonless girl was almost impressive in its insanity.

"Raice, stop it," I snapped, shoving his hand off my arm. "Stop your stupid, crazy escapades. She isn’t a spy, she isn’t from..." my mouth soured around the word as if it were too absurd to even begin with.

It was.

"... she is not from hell, and she certainly isn’t weaving a web around your brain!"

"You’re under her spell! You can’t see clearly, Wulfram! She’s corrupting the entire royal hierarchy!" Raice yelled, stepping into my space.

"She isn’t a Borrowed!" I roared, completely losing my cool as three days of suffocating stress and repressed desire boiled over. "She’s my bloody mate!"

The chamber went dead silent.

The words hung in the freezing air between us as I struggled to place what I had just done. My heart dropped directly into my stomach.

No. No, no, no.

What had I just blurted out? I had just surrendered my ultimate weakness—a secret that could destroy my reputation, ruin my chances at the Wolf Throne, and make me an instant target for every enemy I had, and I had handed it to the craziest prince in the entire realm.