Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 49

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

Thorne stood at the edge of the locker room, his heart racing in response to the storm of emotions stirred by Kairos’s abrupt departure. The weight of his friend’s words lingered in the air like a dense fog, wrapping around him and squeezing tightly. Deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Zora wouldn’t bring about his demise.

No, Thorne was convinced Zora was meant to be his salvation.

With a hesitant gaze, he turned his attention to Maximus, who seemed utterly unfazed by the earlier conversation. Maximus was submerged in the water, his eyes closed, and he rolled his neck in a languid manner, allowing the droplets to cascade down his body. Thorne felt a pang of irritation bubble within him. Before Maximus could catch him staring, Thorne quickly splashed water off his face and made a beeline for the towels, urgency propelling him forward. He barely managed to change into his clothes before Maximus finally emerged from the shower.

As he pushed through the locker room doors, Thorne’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He hadn’t been dishonest with Maximus—at least not entirely. He did believe Zora held a secret, and his desire to uncover it was genuine. But more than that, it was about him, not about the twisted plans Kairos seemed to have in mind.

And he hadn’t lied to Zora either. Maximus was being too lenient with her. The sight of Maximus’s hands on her, even in the most innocent of gestures, ignited a fierce jealousy within him. It was a raw, primal sensation that clawed at his insides every time Max’s fingers brushed against Zora’s skin or held her arms with a grip that felt possessive. Thorne knew he had no justification for his feelings, yet the jealousy simmered beneath the surface, refusing to be ignored.

He muttered a frustrated growl under his breath as he stormed across campus, his destination clear—Kairos’s house. The basement where he lived was tucked away in the shadow of Kairos’s grandfather’s residence. The only shower was located on the third floor, conveniently next to Kairos’s room. Thorne silently thanked the Gods for the foresight that had urged him to shower after Basics. He had no desire to face Kairos’s wrath after their earlier confrontation involving Maximus.

Thorne swung the door to his room open and flicked on the light. He had swapped out the harsh fluorescent bulbs for softer, dim yellow lights that cast a warm, hazy glow throughout the basement. He tossed his bag haphazardly into the corner and collapsed onto his bed, letting out a heavy sigh that echoed his inner turmoil.

In that moment, he felt more lost than he ever had before—not even the pain of losing his parents had left him feeling this adrift. Every fiber of his being screamed at him for rejecting Zora, but his mind was ensnared by the Queen’s promise. The promise of becoming the Alpha Consort in the royal court weighed heavily on him. It was a duty he felt compelled to uphold.

Yet, in the depths of his heart, he longed to be with his fated mate.

Frustrated, he grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face, letting out a muffled groan. With a sudden burst of energy, he flung the pillow across the room, where it landed softly on the floor. Silence enveloped him, only to be shattered by the shrill ringing of his phone.

Thorne shot upright, his heart racing again, and dashed across the room to his desk. He snatched the receiver off the vintage red rotary phone and held it to his ear, anxiety coursing through him.

“Yes?” he answered, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind.

“Oh hi, darling!” came the cheerful voice on the other end.

Relief washed over him like a cool breeze. “I thought something was wrong,” he admitted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “You never call me this early.”

“Well,” the feminine voice chimed, “I had a brief moment between court meetings and thought I’d check in. I’m sure you’d prefer an eleven in the morning call over one at eleven at night.”

Thorne slumped into his chair, feeling the weight of the conversation. “I would,” he replied, “if it didn’t make my heart race. Your Highness, J—”

“Thorne,” she interrupted gently. “I’ve told you to call me Victoria, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but—” he stumbled over his words, trying to find the right way to express his concerns.

“Then please, call me Victoria,” the Queen of the Wolves insisted. “How have you been? I haven’t heard from you since Mateball, and I assumed you would have called if there was good news to share!”

With a deep sigh, Thorne rubbed his eyes harder, grappling with how to articulate his feelings.

“I have some news, I suppose,” he began cautiously.

“Then why haven’t you called sooner?” Victoria exclaimed, her excitement palpable. “Go on!”

He hesitated, his fingers nervously playing with the edge of his shirt. “I was gifted a fated mate,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

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