Thanks for reading! If you're liking the story, consider voting with gems or leaving a review.
[ELARA] Ruelle finds me just as I’m about to leave my quarters to visit Alec and put an end to his suffering. “Elara,” she greets me cheerfully, extending her arms. For a moment I hesitate — the silver dagger is still in my hand but she hasn’t noticed it yet. I discreetly slide it up my sleeve and wrap the other arm around her. “I’m sorry for my brother’s behavior.” She’s now changed into a sheer beige gown held at the shoulders with pins shaped in the form of werewolves. I don’t know what metal it is, but it looks like silver. “Has he always been like that?” I ask her as she guides me back into the quarters. “I’m sure he was dropped on his head as a baby. Or a mage cursed him to always only say stupid shit. But he's always been charming I suppose, considering the number of woman that practically fall on his feet. He won his first battle against a rebel pack in Tassel at fourteen after all,” she answers, shrugging. Her blue eyes twinkle in the scant light that lights the chamber.
[ELARA] Morgana squats down, levelling her eyes to my face but she still towers over me, figuratively. I feel intimidated by her and I have no clue what she’s going to do next. But what she does do, surprises me. She tosses the daggers at my feet. “Go ahead, kill him. That way you won’t even give him a chance of coming back,” she declares, sighing. “What do you mean?” I hiss, glaring at her. “He’s never going to be himself again.” She snickers. “If I had a coin for every time someone underestimated me and then learnt otherwise, I’d be richer than the fucking king of Caelondor.” “How will you cure him?” I ask foolishly. But then I know it. She’s a witch. A mage. Now the sensation I feel around him makes sense. I shake my head, refusing to get distracted. “There’s no cure to rogueness. You’re a liar.” Morgana raises an eyebrow at him as if she can’t comprehend what I’m saying. “What good would lying about this do to me? No, seriously. Don’t trust me. Put this dagger through his hea
[ELARA] As I enter the grand courtroom, the air is thick with the stench of wealth and arrogance. The room is adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of valor and conquest, and the polished marble floor reflects the golden light emanating from the crystal chandeliers above. They’re the colour of Magnus’ eyes. The ones that I hate now, more than anything in the world. Courtiers and advisors in their finest attire fill the space, engaged in hushed conversations and exchanging formal greetings. Ruelle’s grip on my arm tightens. It’s meant to reassure me but all it does is push me further in a state of restlessness. As I make my way through the crowd, I catch glimpses of familiar faces, people I met at my wedding. Some of them presented me with gifts while they complimented the hospitality of my pack. These were the same people that mocked me later at the banquet by the riverside. Their eyes betray their smiles, revealing their true feelings as they observe the mysterious out
[ELARA] “Come on, Elara,” Magnus urges, his voice barely containing his fury as his hand comes to rest on my arm. I flinch at the contact, burnt by his touch. When I see my arm, the skin there has turned a shade of pink. This is Morgana’s work. I know it. “There’s a council meeting now, Prince,” an old, toothless man tells Magnus but he dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “Later, Lord Jaromir,” he mutters. Ruelle calls out my name from a distance. Reflexively turning, I notice her rushing towards me through the departing crowd of courtiers, her face red with worry. I know she wants to warn me, but it’s too late now. Magnus notices that my legs have turned to stone, and yanks at my arm. His grip is too tight, the pain searing through my flesh. ‘It’s more than just a physical grip,’ I think to myself. A low growl escapes his lips before he begins dragging me away. I hesitate, resisting his pull but then he shoots me a glare that kills every rebellious fiber within me. I stu
[ELARA] I dismount from the horse and land firmly on my feet. Magnus looks at me and nods, signaling for me to follow him. We’re away from the palace, about half a mile away, I presume, as I look back at it from a distance. We walk a few steps, surrounded by trees so high that I crane my neck trying to find their crowns. Night is starting to fall, the sky taking on a sinister shade of gray streaked with red. We stop at a lone hut standing upright in a clearing. It’s too small to contain anything significant inside. But when Magnus actually throws the door open, I see a trapdoor in the floor. It opens with a creak, revealing a series of stairs. I follow Magnus quietly, too intrigued to speak. It’s not long before we’re faced with a weird-looking door. Morgana is the first person I spot when the intricate locks on the gilded door click and twist, before it swings backward to reveal what I presume is a witch’s den. I wonder how long she has been staying here to set up all of this.
[ELARA] When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to remember where I am, which tells me how well I slept. I don’t know what brought me comfort—whether it was the satisfaction I felt for doing right by Beatrice, or having my wolf back in talking terms with me, or thinking that my husband isn’t a heartless man after all. Seeing that side of Magnus, soft and vulnerable, has definitely changed the dynamics between us. And after the words exchanged between us yesterday, I can only hope he’ll be up for talking rather than have me guess his thoughts. His words ring back in my ears: Step one foot out of the line and you’ll find yourself entangled in courtly politics, and soon you’ll be a pawn in their game ready for disposal whenever needed. Is that really what’s going down behind the friendly faces I’ve come across the court? They have never been friendly to me, of course. I’m a stranger, unwelcome and not up to the standards they’re used to. But there’s always a general state of calmne
[MAGNUS] ‘Fuck you, Magnus.’ I can’t get it out of my head. I just can’t. The council meeting has been going on for the last few minutes, but I find myself zoning out every few seconds. My mind keeps recalling Elara’s reaction when she entered my chamber earlier this morning. While Morgana was riding on top of me. Nothing could’ve prepared me for that. Not for when she entered. And definitely not for how she reacted. ‘Fuck you, Magnus,’ she mumbled, her voice too quiet due to the shock. After that she sprinted out and I haven’t seen her since—she wasn’t in my old chambers, or with Ruelle. That’s probably a good thing because I don’t know what I’m going to say to her. Morgana laughed about it; somehow it aroused her further. But there was no way I was going to continue. I asked her to leave right then—the disappointment on her face was something I couldn’t miss. Alistair is not at fault, I knew that before he even tried to explain himself. Elara is stubborn. She’ll do what
[ELARA] Pain shoots up my arm and reaches my skull the moment Alec’s fangs pierce the flesh there. It’s excruciating and I’m thrown back by the impact, knocked off my feet as a reaction to it. I bite on my teeth so I don’t scream. I don’t want to alert the guards. They could hurt him. They could kill him when they see the bite mark on my arm. Even though his arms sear as they try to reach me through the silver bars, he doesn’t stop. Alec wants me dead; I can see the murderous look in his eyes. Just a moment ago, I was hoping there was nothing holding us apart, but now I can’t be more grateful for those silver bars. He tricked me into thinking he was harmless… until I extended my arm inside the cell to touch his cheek. And then he came at me, like he had done inside the tent. Furious like a beast. My arm begins to throb, the flesh starting to turn a shade of reddish-black as blood trickles down to the muddy ground at an alarming rate. Lila’s panic is mingled with mine. But he
[ELARA]The bard is not the same man today.Had no one told me it was him—and had I not watched him so closely the night before—I might’ve sworn it was someone else entirely.I suppose madness does that. Warps a person from the inside out. Just last night, he was dressed in fine silks, the very picture of elegance and confidence—charming enough to rival Magnus at his most dazzling. Now? He’s tied to a pillar in Thornhall’s courtyard like a spectacle.He thrashes wildly, laughter cracking through the air in bursts, each followed by guttural cries that scrape the throat raw. But it’s not the noise that sends a chill down my spine.It’s the pearls.A strand of them, strung neatly around his neck—eerily similar to the one I shattered. The one Valen claimed belonged to Raelynn.I take an instinctive step back.“Who painted his lips?” Lady Brook’s voice comes from beside me, thin and sharp. Her hand clutches her throat as if she’s afraid the color might stain her own skin. Her hair, usually
[ELARA]“Magnus,” I call out. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t even pause. The door slams shut behind him, and something inside me breaks. My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, fingers twisting into the fabric of my robe like it can change reality. My lungs can’t find air. It’s like they’re stitched shut.‘You’re panicking,’ Lila says. ‘You must breathe.’But I can’t. I can’t.My hands fly to my throat, clawing at the skin like I can scrub the shame away. My nails scrape across Valen’s bite marks, and the moment my fingers graze them, guilt sinks in like a slow-moving poison.What have I done?He wasn’t lying.I saw it in his golden eyes—saw it when the shield fell between us, when truth flooded that brief second of silence. Magnus hadn’t been with anyone. Not in these long, aching months.Not once.But I had believed wrongly.And it led me to—Lila speaks again, ‘It wasn’t just that. You know it wasn’t.’I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head, biting down
[MAGNUS]Setting her free—as she says it—is not going to end my misery. If anything, it’ll make me even more miserable. I don’t hate Elara. I could never hate her. The day I start hating her is the day I lose all control over myself. And the day I lose all control of myself is the day I lose her. So I can’t accept her as my mate. I can't get through the ritual and let the bond strengthen. I can’t mark her, can’t make her mine, not until I have eradicated all of my enemies. Until Eldric lies cold in his grave. One more loss… and there will be no going back. Creed’s agony will consume me, break my mind until I’m left as nothing but a hollow shell. Elara stands there looking utterly broken, crying as if there’s no strength left in her. And it is all my fault. Whatever anger I feel, the urge to burn the world to the ground, the desire to see Valen crushed to a pulp—I push it all aside. Lock it inside a part of my mind where I stash all of my irrational thoughts. Valen fed on her, I
[ELARA]Magnus barges in, cutting through the space with quick strides and startling Edith. “Leave,” he tells Edith, not even sparing her a glance. That single word is enough to tell me that he has come here with boiling blood. I don’t even need to consider the fury in his golden eyes. Edith swallows hard, and scurries off but not before tossing me a fleeting look. There’s prayer in her eyes. She is unaware that nothing can save me from Magnus’ wrath. For a moment, silence lingers—a kind where you can hear the sounds of our hearts racing. Stupidly, I stare at Magnus’ face too long, and my chest tightens with an odd feeling. Something that feels a lot like longing. ‘Tread carefully,’ Lila warns. “So you’ve finally come,” I say, nonchalantly running my fingers through my hair as I turn my back on him and walk to the mirror. “You deceived me into thinking you had no idea where my chamber was.”How much does he know? I wonder as I sit down on the bench, staring at my reflection. He’s
[ELARA]I stare at the ceiling, breathing a little too loud. I’m aware of the sweat covering my naked body, of the puncture wounds on my neck that are still blazing, eliciting waves of pleasure although Valen is no longer feeding on me. The desire to curl up and close my eyes and shut myself from the world feels too overwhelming. What have I done?A slow breath drifts against my shoulder.I go still.He’s awake.Heat creeps up my neck, shame curling in my stomach. I don’t dare look at him. If I do, I’ll see it—the smug amusement in his expression, the satisfaction, the knowing.I close my eyes, as if I can will myself back into ignorance. As if I can pretend I didn’t just let Valen—the last person I should have touched—consume me whole.“You're thinking too much,” his voice breaks the silence. It’s unbothered. I flinch.He chuckles. “I can hear it, you know. That frantic little heartbeat of yours.”My fingers curl into the sheets, my breath catching. “Go away,” I murmur.Valen shif
[ELARA]Something tells me Valen knows I’m here, and that I’m watching him, but doesn’t stop. “What do you think you are doing?” I hiss at him when I finally find my voice again, daring myself to walk closer. He glances at me leisurely, licking his bloodied lips as he lifts his head from her neck. “I was hungry,” he says with a shrug, and casts Tara aside like a doll. She leans against the wall, the euphoric smile on her face still lingering. “You look… displeased.”I hesitate. I did not think I would Tara here. I really believed she was with Magnus. “She’s our guest,” I whisper, my fingers twitching to reach her, to check if she’s okay—but I don’t. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to touch her. Not when she looks like she’s floating in some distant bliss. “You can’t harm her.”Valen cocks his head slightly, amused. “Harm?” He gestures lazily at Tara’s boneless form. “Does she look harmed to you?”I scoff. “You—” I swallow, forcing air into my lungs. “You drank her blood.”He smirks,
[ELARA]I notice, somewhere between the refilled goblets and the swelling melody of the Bard’s latest song, that Magnus is gone. And Alistair with him. Not that I was informed about it. The feast carries on without them. The Bard, ever the showman, soaks in the attention, strumming his lute with a smirk that suggests he’s well aware of the effect he has on the court. Thornhall has something new to play with tonight. The dancers sit sulking in a corner, forgotten. The musicians find themselves disagreeing with the songs. “I will bed this man tonight,” Lady Brook announces, her words thick with drink as she leans forward, nearly spilling from her seat.I arch a brow. “The Bard?”“Who else?” she breathes, eyes heavy-lidded. “Look at him. That mouth was made for more than singing.”“That’s ambitious.” I huff a quiet laugh, lifting my goblet to my lips. “Don’t let Edith know.”“If I had a mother like that—” she begins with a lazy grin, then downs the rest of her wine. “What do you think
[ELARA]“Did you enjoy the ballad, Your Highness?” Valen’s teasing voice curls around me, his amusement barely concealed. He rises from his seat with effortless grace, extending his hand as if he knew—knew—I would come to him. “I worked with the man himself to craft it.”Every movement in the hall slows. A royal woman should not do this. A wife should not do this. The weight of a hundred eyes presses upon me, mouths whispering, hands tightening around goblets—a scandal. But let them watch. Let them see what their beloved prince has wrought. Let them murmur about the disgrace of Magnus’ mate, the woman who was meant to stand at his side.I take Valen’s hand. His skin is cooler than Magnus’, his grip lighter, but no less commanding.“Do not speak,” I say, my voice a blade, and he only grins.“Remember when I told you last night that when you command me, you’re even—”I cut him off. “Will you dance with me or not?” My words are steel-wrapped velvet, laced with something desperate and rec
[ELARA]I want to leave. No—storm off. Let every guest see, let them know I do not stand by their beloved Prince, their cold and callous Magnus. Let them whisper about the insult, the blatant disrespect. I would not care. I want them to see. I want him to see.How dare he? How dare he shatter my heart so effortlessly, as if it were made of glass? If this is his response—if this is how he welcomes another into his arms so easily, so publicly—then what has he done in the quiet of the past five months? How many nights has he spent like this, without hesitation, without guilt?I knew Talisa—Morgana… kept him company, but I thought… no more. Not since he learned what we are to each other. Not since he learned I am his mate. But now my heart burns, set upon a spit, roasting in the heat of my own foolishness.I told myself he wouldn’t. That he couldn’t. But I see now—I was wrong. I was so wrong.And I kept Valen away because it was him I thought of. Even when Valen’s hands traced my skin, I