Chapter 553 Returned
Before long, Addison’s convoy reached the Royal Capital, and they weren’t met with silence.
Crowds had already gathered, lining the streets as if they had been waiting for her return.
Word had spread.
What happened in the West... the danger, the rescue, the supplies saved, it had all reached the capital ahead of them. The Royal Family hadn’t tried to bury it. They wouldn’t. Not with traveling merchants constantly traveling between territories, carrying news, whether sanctioned or not. Secrets like that never stayed hidden for long.
So instead, they controlled it.
They released the information themselves, shaping the narrative and reassuring the people before fear could take root. The message was clear: the crisis had been handled, the West was stabilized, and the princess had led the effort.
A calculated move it is. But a necessary one.
Because if panic spread unchecked, it wouldn’t just be fear that would spread among the people; it would turn into unrest, and into chaos.
And in this way, the people wouldn’t see a looming threat.
They will see strength.
They will see hope.
The worst outcome that could have happened would have been panic spiraling out of control because once chaos took hold, the people might begin to lose faith in the Royal Family’s ability to protect the kingdom. And that, more than anything, would serve their enemies’ hidden agenda.
Addison understood this more than anyone. That was why her father chose to let the news spread, on their terms.
As the horn sounded and the gates of the Royal Capital opened, the citizens were already waiting. Crowds lined both sides of the road, filling the streets with restless anticipation. The moment the convoy entered, cheers erupted, loud and unrestrained.
Flowers rained toward the carriage, a wave of color and gratitude cast in her direction.
It wasn’t fear that greeted her return.
It was praise.
The moment the cheers reached her, something in Addison stirred.
The exhaustion clinging to her body, which was bone-deep and relentless, seemed to ease, if only a little. It wasn’t gone, but it was lighter, pushed back by the sound of her people calling out to her.
She reached out and pulled the carriage curtain aside.
Outside, faces filled the streets, which were bright, relieved, and smiling. Their voices rose in waves, overlapping and unrestrained.
"Welcome back, Princess!"
"Welcome back!"
"Thank you for saving the West, Princess!"
Addison stilled for a moment, taking in their gratitude and their trust. And despite everything she had endured...
It was enough to make her feel alive again.
Those same words echoed all along the road, carried by voices filled with relief and admiration. Every gaze was fixed on the lead carriage bearing the Royal Family’s insignia, their attention unwavering, their expressions bright with respect.
When Addison drew the curtain aside and her face appeared, which was beautiful, though marked with exhaustion, the crowd’s energy surged.
Cheers grew louder.
Women began tossing more flower petals into the air, a soft storm of color drifting toward the carriage, each handful a gesture of gratitude, of reverence, of joy at her return.
For many of them, the West wasn’t just a distant territory. Some had once lived there; others still had family rooted in its lands. What Addison had done wasn’t just for the West; it was for every citizen.
She had gone there herself. Faced the crisis head-on.
And that mattered.
It showed them exactly what kind of future ruler she would be: capable, decisive, and willing to stand for her people when it counted. With every cheer, every petal thrown into the air, her standing in their hearts only deepened.
This was precisely why her father had sent her there.
Addison understood it, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to feel it.
She was happy.
Everything she had done... it was seen. It was acknowledged. Her efforts hadn’t been dismissed, and she no longer felt like she was standing alone. Her father stood behind her, steady and unwavering, and her people welcomed her with open hearts.
This was how it was supposed to be.
To give her all and have it matter.
The thought stirred something deep within her, and almost unconsciously, her gaze shifted to Zion beside her. The contrast struck her all at once, sharp and undeniable. The way she had been treated in the Midnight River Pack before... compared to this, it was like night and day.
Zion caught that glance.
At first, he didn’t understand it, the weight behind her gaze, the quiet complexity in her expression. But as the cheers continued to rise outside, realization settled in.
And with it, a heaviness he couldn’t ignore.
Because those voices... that gratitude...
It only reminded him of the opposite.
Of how his pack had treated her.
Of how he had treated her.
His jaw tightened, and his expression darkened, a quiet guilt twisting in his chest.
"Yeah... you really are a dumbass, you know that?" Shura’s voice cut in without warning, sharp and merciless as it echoed through Zion’s mind, digging straight into the wound he was already trying to ignore.
"Shut up," Zion growled inwardly, irritation flaring.
A scoff followed. "What? You think I’m scared of your growling?" Shura shot back, voice laced with ridicule. "You had the nerve to do it but not the spine to face it?"
A low, mocking laugh echoed. "Pathetic."
Zion fell silent.
For once, there was nothing he could say back, no sharp retort, no denial. Because Shura was right. And that truth grated against him far more than the mockery itself.
It only made Shura more insufferable.
He could almost feel the smugness radiating through the bond, pressing in on him, needling at his restraint. A dull throb built at Zion’s temples as irritation and frustration tangled together.
Shura wasn’t just provoking him for the sake of it.
This was payback.
For every time Zion had ignored Shura before, every time Shura had pushed, demanded, even raged for Addison’s sake... only to be shut down. Dismissed. Overridden.
Zion had chosen cold indifference instead.
And Shura had never forgiven him for it.
Zion didn’t argue anymore.
There was no point. He knew he had wronged Addison, and whatever Shura was throwing at him now... he deserved it. So instead of pushing back, he let it be.
Slowly, he reached for Addison’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it, giving a small, careful squeeze. It was a quiet gesture, one she might not fully understand, but to him, it carried everything he couldn’t say out loud.
Regret. Apology. Resolve.
Inside, though, it was anything but quiet.
Shura didn’t let up. If anything, Zion’s silence only encouraged it. The taunts came sharper, harsher, and more relentless in their rhythm. Zion didn’t block it, didn’t reinforce the walls in his mind like he usually would. It was almost as if he was letting it happen and allowing Shura to tear into him.
And Shura took full advantage of it.
All that pent-up anger, bottled for so long, finally had an outlet. Every time Zion had ignored it before, every time he had chosen indifference over Addison, it had built up, festering, unresolved.
Maybe that was why Shura used to spiral so easily into frenzy.