Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 95

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**Where Sleeping Rivers Dream We Follow Trails Toward Tomorrow by Evan Milesa Cade**
**Chapter 95**

**Zora**

I found myself locked in a moment of silence, my gaze fixed on Valentin as he concluded his tale. A soft sniffle escaped me, a realization dawning that tears had begun to stream down my cheeks. Automatically, my hand rose to brush them away, as if I could erase the emotional weight of his words.

“Wow,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper, the word hanging in the air like a fragile promise.

“Yeah,” Valentin replied, his tone low and contemplative. He shifted in his seat, the tension in his posture evident. As he recounted his story, his appearance seemed to reflect the turmoil within; his hair was a chaotic mess, the tie he had once worn now lay forgotten and discarded. It was clear he didn’t relish the act of revisiting those memories, yet I felt a profound gratitude for his willingness to share.

“So, my aunt,” I ventured gently, my heart pounding in my chest. “She was…?”

“Gone, yes,” Valentin confirmed, his voice heavy with sorrow. “She’d been drained by Renatus.”

A hum escaped my lips, a sound of understanding mixed with grief. “And my father?” I asked, the question lingering in the air like a specter.

“I don’t know,” Valentin admitted, his expression clouded with uncertainty. “One day, after the war, your mother came to me. She told me she was with child. When I asked her who the father was, she said it happened during a celebration. She couldn’t even recall the wolf’s name.”

The revelation hit me like a cold wave. I was the product of a fleeting encounter, a one-night stand. It fit seamlessly into the tapestry of my chaotic life, adding yet another thread of trauma. I bit my lip, wrestling with the emotions swirling inside me. Valentin let out a deep, weary sigh, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily as if bracing himself against the weight of his 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. Even among the ancient magiks we navigate, the concept of reincarnation felt too far-fetched for me.”

His eyes opened, locking onto mine with an intensity that sent warmth flooding through me. The deep gold of his gaze pierced my defenses, igniting a fire within my heart. My lips parted slightly, and I noticed his gaze drift downwards, lingering on my mouth.

“Then, I met you,” he continued, his voice steady yet filled with an undercurrent of emotion. “You are so much like your mother—fierce, tenacious. But at your core, you embody Zahara. She always wanted to help others, and I can feel that same goodness radiating from you.”

“You do?” I squeaked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Valentin nodded, his expression earnest. “Whatever part of her I thought was lost, it now resides within you, Zora,” he said, reaching out tentatively to grasp my hand. A humorless snort escaped him. “It makes sense that I feel this way around you. You are every bit of my first mate whom I loved.”

In that moment, my heart stuttered, a rush of longing washing over me. An overwhelming desire surged within me, urging me to throw myself at him, to lose myself in the depths of his embrace right there on the gym floor. Yet, instead, I slowly withdrew my hand, returning it to my lap. I noticed the frown that crossed his face as he jerked his head towards me, confusion etched on his features.

“What?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“Then why won’t you be with me?” I challenged, unable to mask the desperation in my tone. I cringed internally, hating how needy I sounded.

“I just told you why,” Valentin replied, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension, yet devoid of uncontrolled emotion. “I loved Zahara. What did that love bring me, other than her loss? I can’t allow myself to love you. I must protect you—from this world and from myself.”

Abruptly, I stood, my anger boiling over. I glared down at him, my voice rising. “That’s bullshit, and you know it!”

“It’s not,” he countered, his demeanor once again emotionless. “Look at what your mother did. She sent you to live away from our people for eighteen years. There is nothing we wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”