Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 91

**Where Sleeping Rivers Dream We Follow Trails Toward Tomorrow by Evan Milesa Cade**
**Chapter 91**

**Valentin**

*A Year Prior to the Great War*

**POP**

21

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The sharp crack of the whip sliced through the air, a sound that resonated in Valentin’s ears before the searing sting registered on his skin. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the fiery pain that would soon snake its way up his spine, igniting every nerve along the way. Just as he anticipated, the burning sensation surged through him a heartbeat later, causing him to wince involuntarily. A low grunt escaped his lips, and the man wielding the whip let out a cackle, clearly deriving pleasure from Valentin’s suffering.

“Faster, boy!” barked a voice from behind him, laced with impatience. “I don’t have all day!”

With gritted teeth, Valentin bent down, forcing himself to ignore the blood trickling down his back and staining the hem of his trousers. Each suitcase he unloaded felt heavier than the last, but he persevered, determined to finish the task. After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to extract the last case from the carriage. He loaded the suitcases onto a dolly, his movements mechanical as he pushed them into the dimly lit vestibule.

The man with the whip stalked behind him like a predator, his presence a constant reminder of the cruelty that lurked within the castle walls. Once they entered the grand hall, the man huffed in annoyance, his frustration palpable.

“Renault,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “You really must be harsher with them. This one took far too long to unload my belongings. My servants would have completed the task in mere minutes.”

Valentin dared to glance up, meeting the man’s glare with a defiant gaze. As he turned, he noticed another figure gracefully descending the grand staircase, an image that had haunted his dreams for two decades.

There he was—the man who had become a specter in Valentin’s mind. Pale as a ghost, with crimson eyes that pulsed with an unsettling intensity, he moved with an elegance that seemed almost ethereal. His jet-black hair curled slightly at his jawline, framing thin lips that twisted into a smirk as he surveyed both Valentin and the house guest. Dressed in delicate shoes adorned with silver stitching, his attire mirrored the opulence of the castle itself. The stark white collar of his shirt contrasted sharply against his pallid skin, rising high to meet the pointed tips of his ears. As he glided down the stairs, it appeared as if he were floating, untouched by the burdens of the world.

“Now, now, Francois,” he interjected smoothly, his voice a silken thread weaving through the tension in the air. “Valentin is my most loyal servant. He has earned the respect of everyone in this castle, as well as that of my esteemed guests. I expect him to be treated accordingly.”

Francois, the whip-wielder, curled his lips into a snarl, his eyes narrowing as he shot a disdainful look at Valentin. “He’s still a mutt,” he retorted, venom lacing his words. “You know as well as I do that they need to be tamed to be kept in line.”

Renault hummed dismissively, casting a bored glance at his guest. “Don’t presume to instruct me on how to manage my household, and I shall refrain from advising you on how to handle yours,” he replied coolly. Turning his attention back to Valentin, he asked, “Is your back alright?”

Valentin chose silence over words, nodding once even though the pain was a searing reminder of his status. Blood had pooled around his ankles, but he focused on the task at hand. Renault’s gaze softened ever so slightly, and without warning, he gestured towards Valentin.

Suddenly, a rush of energy surged through the room, filling Valentin’s mind with a clarity that felt almost dizzying. He grunted, struggling to remain upright as the liquid pooling at his feet was drawn back into the wound inflicted by Francois. He felt the skin mend, the Dark Magiks that Renault wielded stitching him back together. Just as quickly as it began, the sensation faded, leaving him feeling as he had before the attack.

**18:40 Tue, Dec 9**

**Chapter 91**

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“There,” Renault said, his gaze now fixed on Francois, a warning glint in his eyes. “Do not make me have to intervene again.”

Francois appeared even paler than before, his head ducked in submission. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Valentin,” Renault continued, his tone reverting to its previous indifference. “Please take Duke du Pont’s belongings to his room. While you’re in the East Wing, do check on Aveline. Remind her that dinner will be served in an hour.”

Valentin bowed his head deeply in acknowledgment, then grasped the dolly, steering it toward the eastern wing of the castle. As he navigated the corridors, he passed by a series of grand tapestries, each depicting fierce battles from a time long past. Yet, in every scene, there remained a common thread—a pale, human-like creature dressed in silver, and a majestic wolf clad in gold, locked in a perpetual struggle, snarling at one another across the canvas of history.

With a heavy sigh, Valentin pushed the dolly deeper into the cavernous space, the weight of his thoughts matching that of the luggage he carried.

Though he had not been alive during the time when vampires subjugated wolves, the elders had shared countless tales filled with sorrow and anger. Once, the two species had coexisted with minimal conflict, but that fragile peace shattered centuries ago when the vampires chose to enslave the wolves. They had harnessed the Dark Magiks of ancient times, using dark forces to suppress the wolves’ natural abilities, twisting the very fabric of their existence.

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