But the open casket drew his gaze like a magnet, and each glimpse of his father’s still form sent fresh waves of griefcrashing through his carefully maintained control. King Voran looked peaceful in death, his face relaxed in a way it hadn’t been for years, but the absence of that familiar strength was devastating.
I never said goodbye properly.
The mate bond pulsed again, stronger this time, and Korran found himself drawing strength from Tess’s steady presence. She wasn’t just sitting there—she was actively supporting him through their connection, offering emotional stability when his own threatened to crumble entirely.
She’s giving me what I need,he realized with startling clarity.Even after everything.
The revelation shattered something fundamental inside him, some last bastion of resistance that had been built on fear and ideology rather than truth. Tess wasn’t making him weaker—she was making him stronger. Her human heart wasn’t a liability—it was exactly what he needed to face the impossible burden of kingship.
Human weakness.
The concept felt laughable now, watching this incredible woman hold his family together through pure force of compassion and will.
The ceremony drew to a close, the elder’s final words echoing through the hall as clan members began to file out in respectful silence. Korran remained seated, knowing he needed these last moments alone with his father before the burial. His mother rose slowly, her movements careful and deliberate, and he assumed Tess would accompany her. Instead, Tess stayed.
Queen Lysia paused, glancing between her son and the human woman who’d become so important to their family in such a short time. A knowing smile crossed her features—the first genuine expression of anything other than grief he’d seen from her all day. Then she was gone, Orric’s steady presenceguiding her from the hall, leaving Korran alone with his mate and the body of the father he’d failed to save.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and the weight of finality.
SEVENTEEN
TESS
The ceremonial hall felt cavernous now, emptied of its mourners and filled only with flickering candlelight and the weight of unspoken truths. Tess sat rigid in her chair, every muscle locked in place as she fought to maintain the composure that had carried her through the last hour. She’d projected strength for Queen Lysia, offering silent support while her own emotional walls cracked under the pressure of grief that wasn’t entirely hers.
Hold it together,she commanded herself, but the familiar mantra felt hollow in the sacred space.
King Voran’s open casket drew her gaze like a magnet, the man who’d welcomed her to his table now lying in eternal stillness. The sight triggered a cascade of memories—her mother’s funeral, the same crushing sense of failure, the same desperate wish that she could have done more, been better, saved someone who deserved to live.
But beneath the grief lurked something more volatile—a fury that burned hot and bright in her chest. Korran’s dismissal yesterday still stung like an open wound.
After everything between us, that’s what he chose to do? He doesn’t want me here.
Tess pressed her lips together, holding back the words she’d wanted to say to him for the past twenty-four hours. Not here, not now, not with his father’s body between them like a reminder of everything she’d failed to accomplish.
She needed air. She needed space. She needed to scream at someone about the unfairness of it all—how she’d come here to save a life and instead found herself falling for a man who believed her very existence was a threat. But King Voran deserved better than her emotional breakdown right now.
Tess rose slowly, her legs unsteady after sitting in tense stillness for so long. She moved toward the casket with measured steps, each footfall echoing in the hushed space. Korran remained seated, his frame hunched forward as if the weight of kingship had already settled on his shoulders.
King Voran looked peaceful in death, his weathered face relaxed in a way she’d never seen during their brief acquaintance. The deep lines of pain that had marked his features were smoothed away, leaving behind the strong bone structure that spoke to decades of leadership and the quiet dignity that had made him beloved by his people.
You deserved so much more time,she thought, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the casket.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the vast space. “But I swear to you, I’ll find out what really happened. I’ll uncover the truth, no matter what it costs me.”
The vow felt sacred in the candlelit silence, a promise made not just to a dead king but to herself. Whatever was happening between her and Korran, whatever political games were being played in the shadows of this territory, she wouldn’t leave until she’d exposed every lie that had contributed to this man’s death.
A familiar presence moved behind her, and suddenly Korran was there, his warmth radiating against her back. The bondpulsed between them, stronger now in their shared grief, and Tess found herself leaning slightly toward him before catching herself.
Don’t. He made his choice yesterday.
But when Korran reached out with reverent fingers to touch his father’s lifeless hand, something in Tess’s chest cracked open. The powerful prince who commanded respect through mere presence looked suddenly young and lost, his careful control stripped away by the finality of death.
“I’m sorry, Father,” he said, his deep voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I let politics and fear cloud my judgment when you needed me most.”
His words hit Tess like physical blows. This wasn’t just grief—it was guilt, the same crushing weight she’d carried after her mother’s death. The terrible knowledge that maybe, if she’d been smarter or faster or better, she could have changed everything.
“I should have questioned Varix sooner,” Korran continued, his voice breaking. “Should have demanded to see the data myself instead of trusting what everyone told me. Should have fought harder for answers instead of accepting that your illness was inevitable.”
