[ELARA]
Outside my chambers, I can hear the loud beating of drums and the occasional whistle of a flute. I’ve seen over half a dozen human bards and female dryads that have been invited over to entertain the royal company.
When I scurry over to take a look from the window, I can see what seems like half the continent gathered in the courtyard of Mistral Hollow’s packhouse. Over the last few days, I’ve seen my father glued to Alpha Zander’s side. He has been making sure that the wedding ceremony is a grand success—leaving no stone unturned to appeal to the King of Caelondor.
But the previous morning, a raven arrived from the royal palace, informing us the King would be absent from the ceremony. He’s at war with the kingdom of Wyvern, and has been for several weeks now. The disappointment on my father’s face upon hearing the news was contagious. And moreover, the invitations can not be withdrawn.
Nobody seems to care about the Prince. Even though he is the most important person in the gathering. Not once have I heard anyone speak about his comfort, his wishes, his requirements. He’s a stranger to them as much as he’s to me. And he’s unwelcome.
I stand before the mirror now, adorned in a jade bridal gown. It was picked by my stepmother, Celeste. For all the hatred she bears me, I’m surprised at how wonderful her choice is—a color that matches my eyes. Perhaps it is meant to be a mockery of my situation. Dressing me up in precious fabrics just to give me over to a ruthless, ugly man.
A maid brushes the locks of my blonde hair until it shimmers golden in the sunlight. She tugs a choker on my neck, embedded with a rare emerald and beaded with pearls. She fastens golden bracelets around my wrists before painting my lips with the rose extract and dubbing jasmine perfume on several parts of my body.
I think of Alec when I look at my reflection. “You’re magnificent, El,” he’d say before kissing me like there’s no tomorrow. He never failed to woo me with his words and actions.
Now, I’m going to become someone else's. This is my life from this day on.
“Aren’t you a sight to behold, dear sister?” comes Alina’s voice from behind me. I turn on my heels, gasping when I see her standing on her feet—healthy and perfectly fine. She’s draped in a silver robe, her mahogany hair weighing down her shoulders in elaborate curls. She reaches the fruit basket on the table, picking up a cherry before she continues, her voice smooth, “She’s marvelous, Maa. Magnus would love her.”
“Magnus can have her,” says Celeste, grinning evilly at me. “And you, my Alina, can find someone handsome for yourself. Perhaps, another Prince.”
“For now, Alpha Zander is quite enamored by me. I prefer it stays that way,” Alina reveals.
All the air escapes my lungs. For a moment I can’t breathe. I don’t believe what I’m seeing. It barely takes me a few seconds to register what has conspired here… I’ve been tricked. I’ve been betrayed. By someone I have loved so much.
“Alina… how are you here…? What is all this?” I say, my voice muffled with shock. I clutch my neck, fury clawing at my insides. “I tended to you. I stayed by your bed. And all this time… it was just an act!” My voice booms across the chamber.
Bowing low, the omega maid withdraws, getting the cue.
Alina pops the cherry into her mouth and spits out the seed carelessly at my feet. “It’s crazy what a lowly enchantress can do for a few obsidian dimes,” she reveals. “But I assure you, all that vomit was real. That mage truly wrecked my stomach.”
I take an angry step towards her, holding her prisoner in my tear-filled gaze. Celeste takes a protective stance, holding out her arm in front of her daughter. I mumble, “How could you do this to me, Alina?”
Alina’s face twists as if she tasted something bitter. “What do you mean? You were alright with seeing me married off to that wretched beast?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You knew I had a mate! You knew how much I loved Alec!”
Alina scoffs at me. “Alec? Maa, will you tell her or should I?” she whispers wickedly, turning her siren eyes to Celeste.
Celeste flicks off an invisible speck of dust from the sleeve of her gown before she regards me with a cool gaze. She begins, “Alec will be by your side. In Caelondor, yes. He will be on your trail wherever you go. How? Well, he’s to be a part of your personal guard. Alpha Zander chose him for you.”
Lila wails within me, her pain reverberating through my veins. “No!” I shout. “I won’t tolerate this. When I tell the Alpha the truth, he’ll make sure justice is served. He won’t let me marry Prince Magnus.”
Celeste lets out a whiny laugh. “Foolish girl. He procured the witch,” she tells me, and I feel the land disappear from beneath my feet.
____
The front of my face is covered with a green veil before I’m made to walk down the altar. My father holds my trembling hand as he guides me to the other side. I can’t meet his eyes, afraid that I’ll find a hint of guilt in his eyes too. And if I discover that he is involved in this treachery too, I will not be able to bear it.
At the end of the altar stands Prince Magnus, his figure a mere silhouette through the veil at this distance. On either side of me stand some people that I’ve known all my life, while the rest are dignitaries, ministers, diplomats, representatives of other independent territories and the bards and dryads and leprechauns. I don’t think there are any humans or halflings among us. Alpha Zander can’t tolerate them. He simply won’t allow their presence.
Everyone is looking at me and I sense the pity and sympathy in their gazes. It makes me want to flee, but I can’t.
As I get closer, I spot Alec, standing with firm shoulders and looking straight ahead—presumably at nothing. I can’t read his thoughts anymore, but I hear Lila mumble, “I miss him.”
I expect to feel nothing, given that the mate bond is severed, but when his gaze flickers to me, my heart breaks all over again. I stumble on my path and I’m saved from the disgrace of falling face forward in front of so many people as Alec rushes forward and reaches out his arm to keep me from falling.
Alec’s touch sends a stream of misery through me, but he subtly shakes his head at me—reminding me of the place we’re at and the situation we’re in. I realize in that moment that his rejection was not a result of his doubt about my affection, but rather his loyalty to his pack and his duty.
My father tugs at my arm, urging me to carry on, and I tear my gaze from Alec. Prince Magnus’ monstrous figure now comes to my notice. I halt for a moment, my throat drying up as I take in the face of my betrothed—the man who’s about to become my husband.
His face is a ghastly mess, marred by scars. One runs from the top of his left eye to the start of his lip across his nose. There’s another gash that begins in his ear and ends at the base of his neck. It likely continues down his torso, but I don’t know because that’s where his robe covers his skin. The unscarred part of his face is covered with scales. A part of his lip is swollen and I don’t want to know if it is about to burst open and release any fluid.
“Come on, my love,” my father says, but there’s uncertainty in his voice. Of course, he knows what I’m thinking. How can he let me be married to this man?
There’s no hair on his head. Magnus has a stout where he should have a hand on his left arm. His right foot is humungous, the size of his torso, and he’s holding it as if it hurts.
I gulp, biting back a sob.
He finally turns his head to look at me and I see his eyes—they’re golden and breathtaking. They’re almost perfect.
But he’s not a man. He looks like a monster. And I could have loved him someday, perhaps, if I was unaware of his unforgivable sins. He has committed heinous deeds. And now I know why Alina did not want to marry him. No one would want to be married to him.
He’s a freak.
Save for his golden eyes. They are deceiving and they speak to me. It’s unnerving and I can’t explain it. But his eyes tell me it’s a lie. That all I’m seeing is a deception.
Sighing, I keep walking until I’m standing right in front of him. Behind him stands his Beta, as is mandatory for all Alpha weddings. When I look at the Beta werewolf, he turns his gaze away, and I’m robbed of even the chance of asking a question.
'He's not disabled,' Lila echoes in my mind.
For the next several moments, the Soulbinder between us mutters familiar marriage vows, but I hear nothing. I can only look at Magnus’s eyes. From the way he's staring back at me, I can tell that he’s amused. He’s no longer holding his leg.
“Something’s not right,” I hear myself whisper, and his scaled eyebrow rises in response.
The Soulbinder takes my hand and places it in Magnus’ good hand before he says, “Elara Wildewood of Lunar Crest Pack and Magnus Blackwell of Thunderclaw Tribe, I now pronounce you as husband and wife. You may kiss your husband.”
The crowd cheers, but it’s still dull.
My gaze involuntarily darts into the crowd, finding Alina smirking wildly. Hastily, I take a step forward to cover the distance, my hand still placed in his. I blink before I say, “This is a deception.”
“So it is,” Magnus replies, and his voice is honey. It does not match his figure.
I reluctantly press my lips against his scaled cheek, and gasp when the skin there begins to bubble. And then it melts, disappearing into a puff of smoke.
More gasps and squeals arise from the spectators—people rush forward only to step back. Others watch, repulsed as the scene unfolds. Magnus’ monstrous body transforms. The Beta has no reaction to his and Magnus himself seems to be smiling through the shifting folds of his face.
Alec is by my side and I watch his perplexed face.
“What’s happening, El?” he asks me, panic filled in his voice.
But I stay glued to my feet. “I don’t know,” I say, my voice strangely composed. I hold my breath and wait until the transformation ends.
The crowd lets out a collective gasp.
In front of me stands a tall, handsome man with a chiseled jaw and golden eyes. His dark hair cascades in curls to his shoulders. His legs are the same size now. His left hand is whole, the scales subsiding to reveal a smooth face.
He’s breathtakingly beautiful. And he’s my husband.
Magnus regards the shocked crowd with a broad grin before he turns his attention to me. He easily lifts my hand and presses a lingering kiss on the back of it before he says in the same honeyed voice, “Hello, wife.”
As I stand there, my hand still pressed against Magnus's lips, I feel a lot of things. Confusion, astonishment, and yes, even a hint of attraction to the man who just went through an incredible transformation. I can't help but be mesmerized by his newfound beauty, but my initial anger and betrayal still linger beneath the surface.I feel mocked. And humiliated. But no one’s laughing at me. I spot Alina among the crowd and her jaw is practically on the floor. She looks furious and beside her Celeste seems to be grinding her teeth. I see Alina say something to Celeste as she stomps her feet like a stubborn child. Although only for a moment, I feel satisfied. I feel good. I want to laugh at them despite being the one who was tricked. Their evil plan has backfired. The girl I treated with love all my life betrayed me just so she won’t have to marry an ugly man. But Magnus is anything but ugly. At least on the outside. I can't ignore the bad things I've heard that he's done.My father a
I find out soon enough the kind of man my husband is. He’s truly a wicked, two-faced bastard! Few hours ago at the break of dawn, we started our journey back to Caelondor. I was made to sit inside a carriage covered with feather-filled pillows—the royal treatment, truly. But I’m not allowed to talk to my handmaids. Or anyone, really. In fact, ever since we left Mistral Hollow, Magnus had not even spared me a glance. It’s like for him I don’t even exist. He was charming during the wedding, kissing my hand like I expected a prince would. But it was all a facade. I should’ve known it, but as always I was a fool. I feel lonely already, away from my homeland—the place I grew up in. I’ve never been away from Mistral Hollow or my pack for more than a few days and now I'm going to spend my life in a foreign land. With the constant pain of having my mate by my side. Alec has kept his distance from me. I don’t know how he does it, because here I’m going crazy. I keep thinking of all the m
[ELARA] Hours likely passed since I narrowly escaped being murdered by a water demon, but my fury refuses to settle. Magnus' harsh words keep coming back to me. My maids insisted on changing me out of my soaked wedding gown. Initially rejecting their help, I soon realized how the wet fabric clung uncomfortably to my skin. Now, I find myself in a plain blue robe adorned with a silver border. The tent lacks the grandeur of the wedding ceremony—simple, unadorned, with dim lanterns casting a soft glow, creating an uncomplicated atmosphere. Seated on a basic bed, my thoughts are consumed by Magnus. He's not just a distant husband; he's orchestrating an elaborate game. Caelondor has never been favored among the independent wolf packs. That changed when news of King Eldric seeking an alliance reached us. Witnessing the Alpha's desperation was a rarity, sparking confusion within our pack. How would an alliance with a distant kingdom benefit us? Our pack has never been weak. Despite the ske
[MAGNUS] The night unfolds along the riverbank, the candlelit table casting a warm glow on the faces of the gathered ministers. They dine on the delicacies that are brought in — a roasted boar, its succulent flesh still sizzling — golden carrots, ruby-red beets, and emerald-green asparagus—arranged artfully on silver platters. Plates of venison flank the boar, the meat tender and juicy. They are accompanied by bowls of honey-glazed root vegetables—parsnips, and turnips glistening in the candlelight. A spread of artisanal bread, crusty and warm, sits alongside an assortment of cheeses and honeycomb. Flaky tarts stuffed with spiced fruits and nuts, their edges dusted with powdered sugar. The clinking of tankards and the hum of conversation fills the air, but I keep my ears glued to the sound of anything going amiss. “The Prince never fails to deliver a feast!” calls out Lord Reynard, laughing as he raises his glass of wine. He’s already quite drunk, barely keeping himself on the c
[ELARA] The shriek that cuts the air makes me shiver. One moment, I’m stomping towards the tent and the next I’m frozen in place. I look from where the commotion around the fire settles, to Magnus. He has his hand on the sheath of his sword, ready to draw it as he covers the distance between us. “Stay right here,” Magnus commands before his eyes find someone in the crowd that is now rushing towards us. “Alistair, protect her.” The beta werewolf is by my side in an instant, but I can’t help focus on the restless feeling that settles in my chest. Then after what feels like an eternity, Lila speaks to me. ‘Find Alec. He’s in trouble,’ she warns me. And I kick off my feet, running in no particular direction. The mate bond gnaws on my inside. I can feel Alec calling out my name but there’s something else. I can feel the bond begin to fade. Not break — like it does when you reject a mate, but actually fade. Until I can’t sense Alec anymore. The thought of his death overwhelms me. And th
[ELARA] Everytime I close my eyes, the unblinking eyes and still face of Kayla haunts me. So I keep myself awake, despite the exhaustion I feel. I woke up earlier — still in the arms of Magnus — but we weren’t in the tent where he had tried to get me to sleep. We were in the carriage I was traveling, surrounded by the same feather-filled pillows, lined by golden embroidery. I curled up the moment my eyes opened, finding my neck and face covered in sweat. He held me closer for a moment, providing me with a strange sense of comfort I wasn’t expecting from him. His golden eyes stared at my face as he moved the slick strands of my hair obstructing my gaze. I wondered if it was pity he felt for me. Maybe he was capable of that. For a moment I thought he was not the cold, cruel man he tried to portray himself as with his sharp words at me. Perhaps I could find something soft in him after all. But then his gaze turned distant and he moved me from his lap, his finger digging into my sho
[ELARA] There’s no wedding night, of course. I never held my breath for it. Magnus doesn’t even bother to come back into the room that is supposedly his for the rest of the night. I toss and turn on the soft bed all night, instead, watching the netted fabric hanging from the bedposts flutter along with the wind. I see the sky turn darker and quieter until the sun takes over, casting a warm glow inside the chamber. Kayla’s face never leaves my mind. And my last words to Alec haunt me. ‘Go, Alec. Get out of here! You’re a guard. You should know your place,’ I had yelled at him. While the human maids helped me around during the day to adjust to this new, strange place, I didn’t have it in me to strike any indulging conversation. The only question that has been plaguing me is: what happened there, after I left, that turned Alec into a rogue werewolf? Rogueness is complicated but it can be as easily triggered. We werewolves are supernatural creatures, our abilities and senses heigh
[ELARA] In order to get to Alec, I have to first get through breakfast with the royal family. The King is absent since he’s off at war. It makes me realize that Caelondor is not exactly in a comfortable position and that the warriors from my pack could be summoned at any time to provide military assistance. I find it strange that King Eldric chose an independent pack, rather than any of the neutral werewolf kingdoms to marry Magnus into. It would support their cause and provide them with more benefits than could be gained from the Lunar Crest pack — although it is the largest and most powerful pack among the independent packs in the continent. Or maybe, I’m overestimating Caelondor’s friendly status as a kingdom. Perhaps they’re desperate to form any alliances they can and given the rumors surrounding Magnus’ reputation, I’m the best they could find. While the dining table is long and narrow, spanning the entire dome shaped hallway overlooking the Cursed Gulf, most of the chai
[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
[MAGNUS]Valen parts as if nothing has transpired between them—as if he didn’t just openly challenge me. He moves leisurely, as though this is his court, and not mine. A smirk ghosts his lips as he settles into one of the crowded rows, plucking a goblet of wine from a passing maid’s tray with effortless ease.His gaze doesn’t stray from Elara. He watches her as if she belongs to him. He dares to do this. Right in front of my eyes. In a castle I rule.Alistair steps forward to replace the bent chalice without a word. The wine’s poured again, but I no longer care to drink more. If the barrier in Elara’s chamber wasn’t breached, and Valen did not leave his chambers the whole night, when could he have given her the gift? And what did he give her? Before I can demand an answer from Elara, I’m interrupted by a lord whose name I do not recall. “Your Highness,” the human begins, bowing impressively low despite his age. “This humble servant has brought you an offering.”His voice draws Ela
[MAGNUS]As the sun dips down the horizon, the Small Hall of the castle packs up with guests. Among the crowd are those who reside in the castle, lords and ladies from all corners of Tassel, and some from beyond the borders. And then there are the performers—the usual musicians, and the new dancers. And the bard—invited by Lord Valen. The air is already filled with lively music by the time I make my entry into the hall. I put on my persona—one I’ve perfected to please the masses, a mask that has efficiently erased my image as the crippled, wicked Prince of Caelondor, a name whispered across the continent. I smile, laugh, and greet people. It doesn’t matter who they are, they all get the same wide mouthed grin. They bow and curtsy. Others who are more touchy are removed by Alistair effortlessly. I don’t even sense her at first due to the shield. But she’s there, sitting on a chair behind the banquet table, hands clasped in her lap, looking ethereal in a golden and white gown. I forge
[MAGNUS]To His Highness, the Rightful Heir,Your Highness,I pray this letter reaches you in safe hands, for I write in desperate times. The kingdom you once called home trembles under the weight of the false king’s rule. His greed knows no bounds—lands are seized without cause, coffers are drained by insatiable taxation, and noble blood is spilled for the mere crime of questioning his judgment. Once-loyal houses now stand divided as their heirs are taken as hostages, their warriors forced to fight in unwinnable wars against territories that were never our enemies. Your father’s kingdom is on the brink of ruin. The people whisper of rebellion, but they lack a leader to rally behind. Many among the nobility look not to the throne in the capital, but to the exiled prince, the rightful ruler, the son of a true king. If you would return, you would not stand alone. There are those of us willing to defy the tyrant and restore honor to the crown, even if he refuses to name you heir, we nee
[ELARA]I find myself on the shore of the Cursed Gulf yet again. The sky above me is the colour of flames—golden, orange, streaks of yellow and black, the world tilted on its axis in my perspective. My feet are hidden beneath the sand, but I don’t panic. Yet, I still wonder. Why am I back here again? My dreams haven’t been plagued by the Soulkeeper in months. Not since Valen taught me how to stop acknowledging its presence. I know I didn’t sleep with poison beneath my pillow last night.And I still am here, trapped in this nightmare. This is not real, I tell myself, willingly for this to fade, for me to wake. But it doesn’t happen. I suppose I will have to endure. And so I do. The boiling water of the sea lashes on the shore with each wave until it freezes, a cold mist enveloping me. This time when the Soulkeeper comes on his cog, his face isn’t hidden. No, the hood is drawn back, and staring right into my soul is the one red eye of Valen Blackbane. And despite everything I know a
[ELARA]Valen moves easily, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he is left in little more than a linen shirt, loose at the collar, and dark trousers that sit low on his hips. The candlelight casts long shadows over the ridges of his body, tracing over sharp angles and defined muscle, a reminder of what he is—what he can do—something I only had a glimpse of minutes ago. I watch, trying not to. Trying not to compare. And yet, I cannot stop myself from thinking of another man in another bed.Back in Caelondor, when Magnus cared, our chambers had been connected by a hidden passageway. I would slip through in the dead of night, and he would let me in without a word. He would wait for me to come. It was the place where I felt most safe. I would curl into the warmth of him, listening to his steady breaths. In those moments, I could almost pretend that our marriage was more than duty.I remember the way he would shed his royal armor piece by piece, leaving himself bare in ways he n
[ELARA]On any other night, I would have been cautious, wary of the vampire’s seductive pull, the way he ensnares his prey, just as mentioned in the passage. But tonight, the Burn eclipses reason, and every brush of Valen’s touch sets me alight, leaving me aching, craving.And he looks prepared to give me all I demand and more. Valen doesn’t need further assurance. His lips drag slowly from the curve of my shoulder, up my neck, to finally halt at my earlobe, nibbling it gently. My eyes roll to the back of my head as the sensation consumes me completely. I’m gasping, my breath shaky as I struggle to find something to do with my own hands, while his left arm snakes around the front of my waist, pressing my back against his hard body. The sound of his breath in my ear is maddening. It’s fast, irregular. A lot more intense than what breathing should sound like. He pauses from my ear, returning to press kisses to my shoulder only to push the sleeve of my shift down my arm with his teeth.
[ELARA]I tug at the loose pearl string around my neck, playing with a single pearl absentmindedly between my fingers as Lady Brook talks. She’s lounging on the chaise, feasting on a painted bowl of black grapes. I think she might be speaking about tomorrow’s gathering, or of the newest fashion in Qaiven, or of the honey wine gifted by Lord Kilmartin. Her words don’t reach me because I already have a lot on my mind. A longing sigh leaves my lip as I adjust the soft feather pillow under my head and roll over on the bed. My mother’s bright eyes stare back at me from the portrait. They’re so green, so beautiful. Her smile is gentle, as if telling me that everything will be alright. And that I will feel happy again. Magnus only saw the portrait once, maybe only for a couple of seconds, and yet he was able to replicate it so well. In fact, he has done more justice to her features than the original painter from my pack. Now it is framed and hung on the painted stone wall in my chamber. I