Chapter 836: Not Yet Functional

"So this is it?" Violet asked, looking down at the butterfly resting inside the glass case, her brows pulling together with interest.

"Yeah." Alaric scratched the back of his neck, a boyish flush creeping up his face. "I just thought it would be sort of symbolic."

He looked away from Violet and back to the tiny creature. "Like... it flies off to find its target, and when it does, it lands on them. In a way, kind of poetic."

Alaric gave a small shrug, suddenly looking almost embarrassed by his own idea.

When no answer came from Violet, he slowly dared to lift his head, only to find Violet staring at him.

"I like it," she said, beaming at him.

One would think that now they were mated, the intensity of their attraction would settle. But that was not the case.

If anything, it had only heightened. And right now, there were about a million butterflies rioting in Alaric’s stomach.

"Ugh." He couldn’t help it anymore. He groaned and turned away from her.

"What’s wrong?" Violet asked, though if one listened carefully, they would catch the teasing in her voice.

"You know exactly what you’re doing, Violet," Alaric muttered, so red now he looked like an overripe tomato.

A chuckle slipped from Violet’s lips. Then she moved toward him, and when he turned the other way, she followed.

"Stop it," he told her, even though he clearly did not mean it. He was just so painfully shy.

"No, I want to see your face!" Violet insisted. "You look so cute when you blush."

In her haste, her arm nearly knocked against the glass cover.

"Careful," Alaric said quickly, his expression changing at once. "We’d be doomed if anything happened to it."

"Sorry," Violet said, immediately more careful.

Then the both of them simply stared at each other, the air between them growing warmer, heavier, and far more dangerous.

Violet slowly lifted his hand. Then, like a spider crawling with wicked intent, she used two fingers to trail up his wrist, then his palm, until she finally fitted her hand against his and intertwined their fingers together.

"Thank you," she said to him. "Thank you for fighting so hard for my mother." The teasing in her voice was long gone, replaced by a vulnerable look.

"You don’t need to thank me, Violet." Alaric’s voice was quiet, but the conviction in it was enough to still the air around them. "You know I would do anything for you, my mate."

And he meant every word of it. Alaric’s

voice carried the kind of certainty that said if Violet asked for the world, he would go to war just to lay it at her feet.

Something inside Violet burst wide open at that. Before she could think better of it, she launched herself into his arms and their lips met with urgency. It was a fast, hungry and a little messy kiss.

They quickly moved away from the stand, both of them conscious enough not to accidentally topple over the case in a haze of passion.

Alaric had just pressed Violet against the wall, his lips trailing down the side of her neck and brushing over Griffin’s rune in a way that made her shudder— when a whistle cut through the room.

It was Asher.

"It’s getting heated in here, isn’t it?"

With his face buried in the crook of Violet’s neck, Alaric let out a low, deeply frustrated growl.

He really had the worst timing.

"Where have you been?" Violet asked, her voice still slightly breathy as she quickly smoothed down her shirt. "I was waiting for you."

"Sorry," Asher said. "I got carried away studying the palace. By the time I came back, I assumed you’d gone to see Alaric, so I took the time to arrange lunch for us instead. It’s ready."

"Oh, okay." Violet said, seemingly satisfied with the answer, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Unfortunately, she couldn’t explain it.

Then Asher’s gaze drifted to the glass case.

"So this is it. A butterfly, huh?" The way he said it suggested he had expected something far more intimidating.

Alaric, however, didn’t look offended.

"I know it doesn’t look like much," he said, stepping closer to the case, "but since it has a magical tracking system, I figured a butterfly would be the best form. It’s small, subtle, and no one would think twice about it landing on them."

Asher lifted a brow. "So it’s working now?"

"Yes and no," Alaric answered. "The structure is complete, but the final step requires the Queen’s DNA. That would act as the imprint. Sort of like programming it with the exact magical and biological signature it needs to recognize."

"And then?" Asher asked.

"Then when we release it, it’ll search for anything carrying that same signature. Once it lands on the target, the signal locks in. Once it does, we’ll be able to track exactly where the target is."

Asher asked him, "If it’s searching for both magical and biological signatures, wouldn’t it just lead us to Violet? She’s the Queen’s daughter and carries the closest resemblance to her—blood, power, everything. If the system is tracked by those markers, then she should be the strongest match."

"That was the problem at first, the inability of the device to tell the difference between lineage and suitability." Alaric admitted. "But Zuru reconfigured the tracking matrix with her magic. Instead of locking onto blood relation, it now filters for compatibility. A viable host whose body can actually sustain the Queen’s soul."

Asher nodded. "I see you’ve got it all figured out then. In that case, let’s go for lunch. You can return and continue your work afterwards. I’m not letting you keep working on an empty stomach."

"Do I have a choice?" Alaric asked wryly.

Violet laughed. "No."

Then she hooked her arm around his and immediately began pulling him toward the entrance.

Together, the both of them moved away, too caught up in the moment to notice the long look Asher gave the device before quietly following after them.