Chapter 238: Forgotten

BONNIE

Nicholas leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at the glass.

"Oh. That is Grand Duke Isak and his wife, Grand Duchess Sunita."

I turned to him. "The Grand Duke?"

He nodded.

"I didn’t know we had a duke. I thought this was just a photo of the royal family."

"It is the royal family," he said with a quiet chuckle. "Duke Isak was the maternal half-brother of the Alpha King and the Luna Princess. Their mother had him before she married into the throne. His father was a human, as I understand it. A schoolmaster, or something of that sort. When the Alpha King took his mother as his queen, he granted the boy a noble title and had him raised in the royal household."

I looked at the man again. "But he doesn’t look like a wolf."

"He is part wolf." Nicholas paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "Though I don’t suppose he ever felt much like one."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was never particularly fond of the monarchy, or werewolf society, for that matter. He preferred his human heritage. The endless strife, the political games, the little wars between our people and the hierarchies, he found it all rather tedious. None of it interested him." Nicholas’s gaze lingered on the photograph. "He and his wife eventually moved out to the human borders. They’ve lived there ever since, quite contentedly, I believe. In a house with a garden."

I glanced at him. "The family allowed that?"

Nicholas gave a small, humorless laugh.

"Oh, they objected bitterly. His siblings considered it an insult. The royals had given him a title, welcomed him into the royal household, and he repaid them by walking away to keep bees."

I looked at the couple again. The rolled sleeves, the spectacles, the woman’s unrestrained laughter.

"Keep bees?"

"Among other things, I imagine." He shook his head. "They cut him off after that. No letters, no invitations, and no mention of him in family affairs. I don’t believe they ever spoke to him again."

My eyes returned to the photograph.

Of all the people gathered on that lawn, Isak and Sunita were the only ones who seemed entirely at ease. Everyone else looked conscious of the camera, of their positions, of the people standing beside them. Even the children seemed to belong to the occasion.

But those two looked happy simply to be there.

"Does he know?" I asked quietly. "About what happened to the late Alpha King?"

Nicholas was silent for a moment.

"I wonder that myself." He slowly shook his head. "I truly do. He was there when his sister died, you know. At the funeral. I remember him standing at the back in a dark coat, holding his hat in both hands. He was the only one who wept openly."

Something tightened around his mouth.

"I don’t know if anyone has told him that his brother is dead or perhaps it is just that he does not care. The late King had him in very poor terms. The relationship they shared was very tumultuous."

The corridor seemed to grow quieter around us. Somewhere downstairs, a kettle began to sing, its distant whistle rising through the stillness of the house.

I kept looking at the photograph, especially Isak’s mild, unassuming face. It was difficult to imagine him standing at the back of his sister’s funeral, grieving for a family that had apparently spent years pretending he no longer existed.

Nicholas glanced at me. His expression changed when he noticed how intently I was listening, and a faint flush crept up the side of his neck.

"Forgive me, My lady. I’ve kept you standing here in a wet towel, telling you stories nobody asked to hear. It is an old man’s habit, I suppose, particularly in an empty house." He lowered his head. "I apologize."

"Please don’t." I turned to him. "I wanted to know."

His expression softened.

"You’re very kind." A faint smile touched his lips. "Would you care for some coffee? The lake can be rather cold at this time of year. I wouldn’t want you catching a chill."

I nearly laughed. The lake hadn’t felt cold at all, but I appreciated the concern.

"I’d love some."

"I shall have it brought up."

He bowed and disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps so quiet that I could barely hear them.

I remained where I was.

The photograph held my attention in a way I hadn’t expected. The woman with Lysander’s eyes. The man with the granite face. The uncle who had abandoned his title to live a quieter life with his wife.

A brother of the King. And nobody had thought to tell him his brother was dead.

I couldn’t quite explain why the thought unsettled me. Perhaps it was because death had a way of making old grievances seem particularly insignificant. Whatever had passed between Isak and his siblings, surely the news of his brother’s death was something he deserved to care about.

A man could choose to leave his family. He could turn his back on their titles, their traditions, and the world they insisted he belonged to. But that didn’t necessarily mean he had stopped being part of them.

And yet, standing there in the faded photograph, Isak looked like a man who had already found everything he wanted outside the walls of the royal household.

I studied his face a little longer.

A half-human man in a house of wolves.

A half-brother who had walked away.

A man who had looked at power and decided to keep bees instead.

Something rustled behind me.

It was a dry, papery sound, close enough to make me turn. My attention shifted to the tall, narrow window at the end of the corridor, its glass darkened by the gathering dusk. Something sat on the outer sill.

A bird.

Its claws curled over the edge of the wood, and its body was little more than a grey silhouette against the fading light. It was too far away for me to make out its kind, but I could see its long neck and the unnerving stillness with which it watched me.

It wasn’t looking at the lawn or the darkening sky.

It was looking directly at me.

A peculiar uneasiness crept up the back of my neck. There was something deeply unpleasant about the intensity of its stare, the way it seemed entirely unbothered by my presence, as though it had been waiting for me to notice it.

I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

"Shoo," I hissed, waving a hand at the window. "Go on. Shoo."

The bird remained where it was.

Its claws shifted against the wood, producing a faint creak, but otherwise it didn’t so much as ruffle its feathers.

A shiver traveled down my spine, raising gooseflesh along my arms. I tightened the towel around myself, gave the creature one last displeased look, then turned away and continued toward the bedroom.

I made a deliberate effort not to look back.

Still, as I walked away, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable certainty that its eyes were following me.