The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 167

Crown’s Protection-2

Chaos surged even worse than before.

“MATE.”

Caleb staggered half a step forward before catching himself, his eyes locked onto Iva with a raw intensity that stripped away every layer of control he had ever built.

There was no doubt, as he knew from the engagement marking that she was indeed his mate.

But seeing the thread… it was something else.

No confusion.

No illusion.

This was not instinct.

This was not assumption.

This was truth laid bare before lycans and wolves alike.

The chamber erupted into murmurs, shock rippling through every person present.

“The Messenger…”

“It’s her…”

Elder Tamisa raised her hand, and silence returned like a command.

She stepped closer to Iva, studying the glowing threads, the undeniable manifestation of power.

Then she spoke.

“Only the true Messenger can reveal the Threads of Fate.”

Her gaze swept across the room, then settled briefly on the council, sharp and knowing.

“No spell can replicate this. The altar is not lying.”

۴

Slowly, the light began to dim, the threads retracting, dissolving back into Iva’s chest until only the faintest glow remained beneath her skin.

The chamber exhaled.

And Iva…

She swayed.

The energy drained from her all at once, her knees weakening as the weight of what had just happened crashed over her.

Before she could fall-

13

< Crown’s Protection-2

Caleb was there.

Claim

His hands caught her instantly, strong and steady, pulling her against him as if letting go was no longer an option.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low, rough… shaken.

Iva barely registered it, her head spinning, her body still humming with residual power.

But Caleb-

Caleb felt everything.

The truth.

The confirmation.

1

The undeniable reality that she was not only his mate-

-but the Messenger.

And with that realization came something else, even stronger than before.

Guilt.

Sharp. Unforgiving.

It twisted in his chest as his mind replayed every moment-every doubt, every cold word, every time he held back instead of stepping forward.

Every time he failed her.

His jaw tightened as he looked down at her, at the girl he had questioned, tested, kept at arm’s length-

while she had stood here all along, carrying a power none of them could even begin to comprehend.

“You were telling the truth…” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

Of course she was.

Around them, the room remained in stunned silence, the weight of the revelation settling over every soul

present.

But Caleb heard none of it.

Saw none of it.

All he could see-

Was her.

And the quiet devastation of realizing just how close he had come to losing the most important person the Goddess had ever placed in his path.

–

<Crown’s Plotechen-?

Claim

The chamber had barely settled after the ritual when the atmosphere shifted once more-subtler this time, but no less powerful.

If the altar had been the domain of the divine… what came next belonged to power.

Lycan power. Royal power.

Caleb helped Iva steady herself, his arm still firm around her waist, unwilling to release her completely,

and for the first time since the ritual began, she became painfully aware of the dozens of eyes now fixed on her-not with doubt anymore, but with something far more intimidating.

Recognition.

Expectation.

And scrutiny.

Elder Tamisa stepped back, her role complete, and with that single movement, the invisible barrier that had separated the sacred from the political dissolved.

“Your Majesties,” the elder announced calmly, inclining her head slightly.

Iva felt it before she fully saw them.

Two presences.

Heavy.

Commanding.

Unavoidable.

Her gaze lifted slowly-and her breath caught.

At the head of the gathering stood King William Adama.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his posture unyielding, he carried authority like a second skin. His dark hair was streaked faintly with silver, his sharp features carved by years of command, and his eyes… his eyes were piercing, calculating, and far too intelligent to miss anything.

Beside him stood the Queen.

Where the king was iron, she was silk wrapped around steel. Elegant, composed, her beauty timeless, her gaze softer at first glance-but no less perceptive. There was a quiet strength in her presence, the kind that did not need to be announced to be feared.

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