Page 1 of THE SOULBOND AND HER BELOVED (Beasts Of Wrath And Madness #4)

Chapter one

IN THE WAKE OF DESTRUCTION

Grand King Daemonikai reluctantly opened his to the bright rays of the morning sun. The warmth of light on his face clashing with the cold, hard ground beneath him.

He frowned. This… isn’t my chamber.

Sitting up slowly, his gaze swept the dim, familiar space around him.

Dark walls and small window near the corner allowing slivers of light to filter through greeted him.

The forbidden chambers? His frown deepened. Why the hell am I in the forbidden chambers?

And… why am I still wearing my training clothes?

Rising unsteadily, he palmed his head, bracing himself for his unwelcome companion of late—the hammering headache.

But he got… nothing.

No headache. No pain.

Huh.

Unease crawled along his skin as he surveyed the space again.

He remembered being on the training fields all day. Teaching the young recruits archery, pushing them harder than usual because he was eager to finish and return to his Beloved. But after that…

Nothing.

Brows drawn further together, he tried to piece together the broken memories. He could recall the sun setting as he wrapped up training. The anticipation in his chest as he imagined Emeriel's face lighting up at seeing him. But beyond that?

Blank.

Not even a shred of memory.

“How does someone lose a whole evening?” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He huffed a dry laugh. “If this isn’t old age, I don’t know what is.”

Making his way to the door, he pushed against it… only to meet resistance.

His confusion deepened as he rattled the handle, realizing the door was locked.

Not just locked but barred with the thick metal gates outside.

Someone didn’t just put me here… they made sure I stayed.

It was a slap to his pride. The locks were reinforced. The kind only used for a feral.

“What in Hades…”

Slamming his fist against the door, he growled. “Who’s out there?”

No response.

“Soldiers!” he bellowed, irritation rising.

The silence that followed felt louder than it should.

Grinding his teeth, he shifted his hand. Claws lengthened, hand growing bigger before he slammed it against the locks.

A series of savage, powerful strikes shattered the locks one after the other.

The metal clattered to the floor, and with a single heave, he threw the gates open and stepped out into the corridor.

It was deserted.

The emptiness disturbed him. Making his way down the narrow halls, he saw no faces. No patrols, no servants, no chatter.

Where are the soldiers?

Only when he emerged into the heart of Frostfall, did he finally catch movement.

Townsfolk saw him and scattered.

Their greetings were rushed and nervous, their gazes darting to the ground as they scrambled out of his way.

He was accustomed to their reverence, their fear. Yet, something seemed different.

Some of his people looked relieved to see him. Others looked terrified.

Before he could dwell on it, a familiar voice broke through.

“Your Grace! You’re awake!”

Turning, he saw Wegai hurrying toward him. His head guard’s face unusually flushed, looked surprised.

“Of course I’m awake.” Daemonikai’s tone was light but touched with irritation as he resumed walking, heading toward his Emeriel’s chambers. “Were you hoping I wouldn’t be?”

“Never, Your Majesty.” Wegai fell into step behind him.

Daemonikai stopped before his Beloved’s chamber door, knocking once before pushing it open.

His eyes swept the empty room. “She’s not here? Is she in the garden?”

Wegai hesitated. “You… don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” Closing the door, he turned to face Wegai fully. “What happened? I can’t recall much of yesterday—just training the recruits.”

“Yesterday?” Wegai looked surprised and … pained? He lowered his eyes. “That was three days ago, Your Grace.”

Daemonikai stared . He must have misheard.

So, he waited, expecting Wegai to crack a smile. Or apologize for his poorly timed joke.

But the head guard’s face remained somber.

“What the hell are you saying?” Daemonikai growled.

Wegai bowed his head low. “I believe Grand Lord Vladya would be in a better position to explain, My King.”

A cold weight settled in his chest, dread pooling deep inside him.

Without another word, Daemonikai spun on his heel and headed to Blackstone.

By the time he reached the western wing, he was truly feeling highly uneasy.

***

Vladya had just stepped out of his door when he caught sight of Daemonikai approaching… and froze.

“Daemon?”

The grand king scowled. “What is wrong with everybody? Of course, it’s me. Who else would it—”

Vladya ran to him in a blur, slamming into him with such force that Daemonikai stumbled back a step. Vladya’s arms locked around him like iron.

“What the hell—”

“You’re back,” Vladya's voice had the faintest tremor, overflowing with relief. “You are back.”

Daemonikai huffed, trying to free himself. “First, let up on the hug before you crack a rib or several.”

Vladya didn’t budge. Holding on as though letting go would undo whatever miracle had just occurred.

“Seriously, V.D, I get it. I’m glad you’re starting to show emotions again, but you’re overdoing it,” Daemonikai grumbled, though there was a flicker of warmth in his tone.

At last, the male released him and stepped back, his features still uncharacteristically softened. Studying Daemonikai in a way that made him uncomfortable.

“What?” Daemonikai snapped.

“You don’t remember.” Vladya’s tone was resigned. It wasn’t a question.

“No, I don’t. And—” Something caught his eye.

His hand shot out, grabbing Vladya’s arm. “Vladya… Your hand. It changed back.”

The grand lord raised the hand in question, flexing it. Where once the flesh had been furry, paw-like, and bigger, now it was whole again.

“Yes. I woke up three mornings ago to this." Vladya flexed it again. "I wish to believe it means the madness is slowly losing its grip on me. And I also feel... more."

“No surprise there, you have been spending more time with a kind female such as Emeriel's sister, that hole in your heart is bound to start closing—wait— Three mornings ago?"

His old friend looked away.

"What is going on here?" his tone reflected his rising anger. "I woke up in the forbidden chambers, wearing the clothes I had on yesterday at the training grounds. But Wegai”—he jabbed a finger behind him toward the head guard—“is saying three days have passed. And now you’re talking about three mornings ago? Someone better start talking before I start throwing hands, damn it!"

Vladya tilted his head toward the door of his chambers. “Come. You need to sit for this.”

Daemonikai opened his mouth to argue, then clamped it shut.

About damn time.

***

Grand Lord Vladya's arms were folded tightly over his chest as he observed his friend from across the room.

Twenty minutes had passed since Daemonikai entered Vladya’s bedchamber and Vladya had told him everything, and in all that time, the grand king had not lifted his head. Remaining seated on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped tightly between his knees.

The thick silence in the room was broken only by the faint crackling of the fire.

“No. I would never do that.” Daemonikai whispered at last, his tone low and hoarse. “You just told me a horror story, Vladya. A nightmare. And you know I would never do something like that to my Soulbond . So now I’m still sitting here… waiting.” His fist curled even tighter, knuckles going white. “Waiting patiently for you to get to the part where you tell me this was just some cruel, sick joke that went too far.”

“I wish it were a joke,” Vladya said sincerely. “But it’s not.”

Daemonikai shook his head. Slow at first, then more forceful.

“This cannot be happening. This cannot—” he sprang to his feet, pacing the room like a caged beast. “I need to see her, I need to see her. I must see—”

“Come,” Vladya said softly. “I will take you.”

The journey wasn’t far. Emeriel was resting at the end of the hallway.

But as they approached the door, Daemonikai came to a sudden stop, several feet away.

Vladya paused, turning back to him. His friend’s face had gone ashen… blank. Daemonikai was not alright.

It was in the tautness of his muscles. The faint shaking of his hands. It was in his rooted feet to the floor.

Daemonikai stood like a male who was terrified to take the next steps and see what lay behind those doors.

“I’m thinking about everything you just told me. About the possibility that I…” His throat worked while he stared off at the distance. “And the implications if I… What if I…”

“I’m sorry.”

Daemonikai’s jaw clenched.

Then he steeled his spine.

He was moving again, his eyes anguished, his tone resolved. “Let me see her.”

Vladya nodded and stepped aside, opening the door. He stayed by the threshold as Daemonikai walked past him into the room.

In the center of the large bed, Princess Emeriel lay under a soft blanket, small against the vastness of the mattress.

A white towel rested on her forehead, and her eyes were closed, her face pale and bruised.

Her hands, visible by her sides, bore deep discoloration, though the swelling had gone down. Her left hand was bandaged.

Daemonikai was still.

Then exhaled shakily, stepping closer to her.

Reaching out, he pulled the bedding back, exposing more of her battered body.

“The healers have been here constantly these past three days,” Vladya said from behind him. “So far, there hasn’t been any fatal damage, and her treatments are going well. They said she will heal… with time.”

Daemonikai’s eyes moved over her slowly. Lingering on every visible wound. Every abrasion. Every bruise.

“She woke yesterday evening but was in a lot of...” Vladya shook his head. “They had to put her back to sleep.”

Daemonikai sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at her face.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

He just sat there, staring at her as if, by sheer willpower, he could undo the damage.

And minutes stretched into hours .

Even when the healer entered to administer her afternoon medicines, Daemonikai didn’t leave her side. Didn’t move, his eyes never leaving her face as they applied salves and tinctures.

Later, Livia arrived with the young slave girl, both moving quietly around. They cleaned Emeriel with care, changing her clothes and the bedding, before slipping out just as quietly.

The afternoon crawled by.

Shadows lengthened on the walls.

Eventually, Vladya had to leave for court. But as he did, his mind stayed behind.

Worried for his old friend, and his woman.

***

The court was somber. Filled with tension.

While Zaiper presided over the proceedings, Vladya sat stiffly, his thoughts drifting to Emeriel and Daemonikai again and again. He barely registered most of the session.

It was a pattern he’d fallen into over the past three days.

“I will be leading tomorrow’s rain ritual,” Zaiper announced to the court. “As you all know, the Grand King is… indisposed.”

Vladya forced himself to focus on the present.

“Speaking of the grand king, how is he doing?” Lord Gaff asked, his voice measured… probing.

Zaiper’s smirk was sharp. “Well, his mind is gone again—”

“We cannot say that for certain right now,” Ottai cut in, shooting Zaiper a glare out of the corner of his eye. “We will provide a clearer answer to that later.”

Daryl, the High Lord of Trade, cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There are… rumors flying around. Not just about his state of mind, but about… uhm, his woman. Or rather, what he did to his woman. How true is this rumor?”

Lord Gaff leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Did the grand king really brutalize the human princess he claimed to cherish just a week ago in front of all of us?”

“What is so funny?” Ottai snapped at Zaiper.

Only then did Vladya notice the faint, smug smile on Zaiper’s lips.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zaiper drawled, rising to his feet calmly. “The truth is, it’s time we stopped deceiving ourselves and face the fact that our Grand Ruler is no longer fit to sit on the Grand Throne.”

Hushed voices rippled across the court.

Zaiper raised a hand for silence.

“First, let’s not shy away from the obvious. His mind is not well.” His voice rang louder, more authoritative. “Why would we continue entrusting the ultimate leadership of our kingdom to a male whose state of mind is clearly unstable? Everyone here knows it.”

The murmurs grew louder.

“And if his state of mind isn’t troubling enough, let’s examine his actions. Look at what he did to his own Soulbond ! The one person in the entire world he is fated to protect above all else." Zaiper shook his head, looking disgusted. "If he can harm her —the woman who is supposedly the other half of his soul —what chance do we have? What chance do you have, any of you, against his declining mind?”

“Grand Lord Zaiper, mind your tongue!” Ottai growled.

Ottai, who was usually the level-headed one, had spent the past few days on edge. Losing his temper easily.

Today was no different.

He vibrated with anger.

Vladya too, was gripping his chair so tightly his claws extended, digging into the wood.

The effort it was taking him to restrain himself, to not leap across the room and punch Zaiper square in the face, was so great a stabbing headache split his skull.

“We cannot keep deceiving the people, Lord Ottai,” Zaiper turned briefly to address him before pivoting back to the court. “We have very strict laws in this kingdom to protect our bondmates—our women—from domestic abuse and violence. These laws have been upheld for centuries, without exception. The day we accepted the human princess as his woman, was the day she became one of us. And as one of us, she is entitled to our protection. We cannot turn a blind eye to this.”

Zaiper's words riled the court into a frenzy of murmurs and exchanged glances.

Vladya’s nails splintered the wood of his chair.

“That’s rich, coming from you , Zaiper!” Ottai shouted, rising so fast from his throne. “The grand lord whose name is whispered across the kingdom. And not for good reasons!”

Zaiper stiffened, turning to glare at Ottai. “I may mess around with slaves because I don’t see humans as living beings, but I do not hurt our females. I do not mount them without their consent, and I certainly do not keep going when it's obvious they are in pain, begging me to stop!”

“Lies! Lies from the pits of hell! ” Ottai was so furious, he was on Zaiper in an instant. “Everyone in this fortress knows you are the worst of the worst. The king of depravity, the very embodiment of evil when it comes to hurting women and younglings! You should be the last person to stand here and talk about morality!”

“How dare you, Grand Lord Ottai!” Zaiper’s voice dripped with outrage. “How dare you accuse me of such baseless filth without concrete evidence!?”

“And how dare you stand here and slander Daemonikai?!” Ottai roared. “Knowing fully well that he could never , ever intentionally hurt Emeriel?!”

“He hides behind righteousness, but in truth, he is nothing more than a sick, twisted, insane male!” Zaiper’s eyes flashed that of his beast, his pupils narrowing into yellow slits. “If there were an institution for the mad, he would be locked away in it for good!”

Vladya saw red .

Leaping to his feet, his fist flew before he even realized it. The punch landed squarely on Zaiper’s face, making a loud crunch sound as bone connected with bone.

At the same time, Ottai shoved Zaiper hard, sending the grand lord stumbling back.

The court went up in flames of uproar.

High Lords dove from their seats, scrambling toward the podium to break up the fight. Servants bolted for the exits, fleeing with the speed of light.

Zaiper roared and shifted. Bones cracking and elongating, his body transforming into his beast.

Vladya didn’t hesitate, and with a snarl of his own, he let his beast take over too.

They clashed and collided in a blur of claws, fists, and snarls.

The fight turned bloody, brutal, blood spraying across the floor.

Knowing he only had seconds before the High Lords pulled them apart, Vladya aimed strategically… going for vulnerable spots.

His claws raked across Zaiper’s shoulder, tearing into hard muscles. He didn’t aim to kill, but he did aim to hurt... and hurt badly.

Zaiper wasn’t holding back either, clawing Vladya’s arm, tearing through flesh.

His fangs came dangerously close to Vladya's shoulder before Vladya shoved him off with a bone-jarring strike to his ribs.

The fight was vicious... but short-lived.

As always in the court, it was only a matter of time before a group of beasts intervened, and a sudden surge of bodies overwhelmed them.

Several High Lords in beast form swarmed the podium, their massive claws gripping Vladya and Zaiper, tearing them apart.

Vladya struggled for a moment, his beast roaring in defiance, but the sheer number holding him down forced him to revert back to his male form.

Panting heavily, Vladya spat out a mouthful of blood. His lip throbbed, and he could already feel the ache of a bruise forming along his jaw.

Fighting in court was no minor offense, and he hadn’t done this with Zaiper in ages .

Back then, Daemonikai was always there to step in. To throw them apart and bark orders until they cooled off.

But not today.

Vladya’s gaze shifted to Zaiper, back in his male form, still being held down, snarling and snapping like a feral beast.

Looking at him brought satisfaction to Vladya’s bruised face. Zaiper looked worse .

His eyes were swelling rapidly, the skin already darkening into bruises that mirrored the ones from three days ago. Only this time, there were more .

Zaiper's lip was split and bleeding, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe through the pain.

Cracking his jaw, the Second Ruler's face crumpled in rage as he registered the extent of his injuries.

His yellow eyes flashed, and his roar shook the court.

“How dare you, Vladya! How dare you! ” Zaiper bellowed, struggling against the High Lords pinning him down. “How dare you attack me this way!”

Vladya flashed him a bloody grin, lifted a hand... and gave him the middle finger.