Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 152

**Where Sleeping Rivers Dream We Follow Trails Toward Tomorrow by Evan Milesa Cade 152**

**Zora**

**Present**

I found myself fixated on Valentin, unable to peel my gaze away from him as he concluded his tale. A soft sniffle escaped me, and only then did I realize that tears had begun to cascade down my cheeks. Instinctively, my hand rose to brush them away, as if I could erase the sorrow that had welled up inside me.

“Wow,” I managed to utter, my voice barely above a whisper, laden with the weight of his words.

“Yeah,” Valentin murmured in response, his tone reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. He shifted in his seat, and I couldn’t help but notice how disheveled he had become during his recounting. His hair was a wild mess, the tie he had worn earlier now lay discarded on the floor, a testament to the emotional toll the story had taken on him. It was clear that revisiting those memories was a burden he bore reluctantly, yet I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that he had chosen to share them with me.

“So, my aunt,” I ventured gently, my heart pounding as I sought clarity. “She was…?”

“Gone, yes,” Valentin replied, his voice heavy with the weight of grief. “Renatus had drained her life away.”

I hummed softly, my mind racing to process the implications. “And my father?” I asked, the question slipping from my lips with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his gaze drifting away as if searching for answers in the shadows of the past. “One day, after the war had ended, your mother came to me. She told me she was with child. I asked her who the father was, and she mentioned it happened during a celebration. But she couldn’t even recall the wolf’s name.”

So, here I was, a child born from a fleeting encounter, a one-night stand that had shaped my very existence. It felt oddly fitting, given the long history of trauma that seemed to follow me like a shadow. I bit my lip, trying to keep my emotions in check, while Valentin let out a deep sigh, his breath shuddering through his nose. His eyes fluttered shut, as if he were trying to shield himself from the memories.

“She told me it was her,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “That Zahara’s soul had returned in the form of Victoria’s child. For a time, I refused to accept it. While we may dwell among ancient magiks, the concept of reincarnation was something my mind struggled to embrace.”

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