[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 chair. “This is so much better than the wedding dinner. Ah-ha!”
He then proceeds to smash his glass on the table — likely forgetting it’s not a tankard — causing curses to erupt from Lord Hylas. Some ministers laugh, others shake their heads in disappointment.
Well, at least they’re having fun. Which is not something I can say for Elara.
She’s sitting quietly, her fingers holding the fork and knife that delicately cut and tear at the little food she allowed to be served. Her eyes are lowered at all times, except when she hears people pass comments about her pack’s hospitality — or lack thereof.
She doesn’t seem like the same woman that fumed at me earlier by the pier. She looks innocent now. Completely harmless.
‘Fuck you,’ her whispered words echo in my mind.
I’ve discovered more about her in half a day than I ever intended to for the rest of my life. I only tried to be honest with her — no false hopes or dreams she could hold on to for our future. I don’t know what she expected me to be. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting me to fall to my knees and beg for her to love me back.
Maybe it is my fault. I probably overplayed the charming prince role at the wedding. Something none of them expected me to be.
They were expecting an ugly, twisted, hideous man — the rumors my uncle helped spread. So I gave them just that. Just to shove it into their face that they had been played for fools.
I won’t deny it: I loved the looks that crossed their faces. It warmed my cruel heart. In fact, I can’t wait for the news to reach my uncle’s ears while he’s engrossed in his wars. That’ll piss him off. He might just get distracted in the battlefield and take a silver ax to his head.
My eyes move to Alistair at the thought, and find him already watching me. He gives me a subtle nod, and I raise an eyebrow in acknowledgment. I know I can trust him with my life. He has proved his loyalty enough times already. My hand still reaches for the hilt of my sword for reassurance as my eyes glance around the table, taking in the familiar faces. The question forms within my mind: who among these men could be a traitor?
Elara sighs, finally putting down her knife and fork. She traces her finger along the rim of the wine glass, thinking deeply.
“Didn’t like the food?” I ask her, taking another bite of the venison.
She passes me a sharp look before she composes herself. “Too good for my liking.”
I think I can work with this attitude. It’s better that she hates me than hope for anything nice.
Elara shifts her gaze to the fire that has been lit around which the group of dancers and singers have gathered. The thought of hearing another song threatens to bring up the food I’ve put in me.
No one asks them to, but they begin anyway. Soon, the rest of the company gathers around, whistling and laughing.
Between me and my new wife, however, only silence settles.
I wonder what’s going on inside that head. Is she plotting to kill me too? She could be. But how would that serve her? It will be too obvious and she’ll be hanged along with her lover sooner than she can blink. They’re doing nothing to downplay their romance and I’m sure half the ministers are already weaving dirty rumors about her.
I think it’s the perfect scenario for my uncle. He could kill me now and no one would suspect him. But I’ll burn the whole of Caelondor to ashes before I let him lay his hands on me.
Looking at her again, I’m forced to change my mind. Her hair is still wet from almost being drowned by the hydralith. I think of her impulsive words by the river — she can’t hold her emotions. Being alone in the tent with her mate a day after marrying me?
None of that is smart. She’s clearly too stupid to even contemplate killing me. I believe right now she’s thinking about what she can do to make sure Alec is safe.
“Elara,” I murmur, breaking the silence. “The hydralith is no longer a threat. You're safe now.”
She meets my gaze, there’s nothing but hate in them. But her voice is gentle. She’s at least smart enough to know it has to be. “I’m not thinking about that, Magnus.”
Isn’t she? Not at all? I pretend to be interested, leaning forward slightly. “What are you thinking about then?”
Elara studies my face, her eyes taking in the features. She almost reaches out to touch my hair before her hand stops mid air. She then looks into my golden eyes. I know the effect they have — intimidating to some, mesmerizing to others.
“Are they real? Your eyes?” she questions me.
I can’t help but laugh, taken aback slightly. “You’re not expecting an answer from me.”
She nods, her eyes briefly going back to the fire before she leans closer. “I am.”
“They’re real.”
She presses her lips together before dabbing at the corners with her kerchief. “Your father had golden eyes?” is her next question.
I blink. It’s a simple question but I can’t help wondering about its motive. A moment passes before I answer, “My mother did.”
She nods again, answering the question I posed earlier, “I was thinking about how everything I knew about you turned out to be a lie. Not everything…” she shrugs. “Well, I don’t know what is true.”
I relax my shoulders, realizing the defensive stature I had gathered. “Well, this is me. This is how I really look.”
“And I can trust that?” There’s a touch of humor in her voice.
I nod, wondering where this conversation is going. “You can expect honesty from me. Since everyone else is a stranger to you as well. Trust me more than you trust anyone else, Elara.”
“Not everyone is a stranger,” she declares, finally taking her eyes off me to stare into the distance. “I wasn’t supposed to marry you. Did you know that?”
I shake my head. “Honestly, I knew nothing except that I had a wedding. Arranged by the family. Although, none of them cared to attend it.”
“And you didn’t care to find out more? About who you were going to marry?”
“I’m a busy man, Elara,” I tell her, failing to keep a grin off my face.
She folds her arms before pushing her hair back. “I can believe that,” she remarks before her eyes land on the wet patch of her dress where her hair had just been. She frowns, gently patting it before she seems to realize it's not going to help in any way. “My sister, Alina, was going to marry you. Did you meet her at the wedding?”
I nod slowly, taking in this new piece of information and thinking of what use it could be to me. “I might have. I don’t recall,” I tell her honestly.
The creases in her forehead deepen. “She was wearing a silver dress, a bronze medallion… it doesn’t matter. She pretended to be very sick just so she wouldn’t have to marry you. I fell for it. Others pretended they didn’t know the truth.”
I can’t keep the amusement from my voice, “Because of all the rumors… so you were betrayed by your own family?”
A painful look crosses her eyes. “She’s my step-sister. But I always thought we were close.”
“Betrayal always comes from those closest to you,” I hear myself say but I stop my brain before it can get distracted from memories of the past. “Well, you’re a royal now. Enjoy it.”
“She would’ve enjoyed this much more than I would,” she expresses, her voice suddenly becoming sharp and angry. “I had a life. I had dreams. I had a m— ”
I cut her off by raising my hand before she can make things worse for herself. I can’t believe I let myself get carried away by this conversation. “Relax, Elara. Get some rest now.”
Elara doesn’t want to oblige — I see the resistance in her eyes. But she gulps before getting to her feet, the tears that formed in her vanishing before they can run down her cheeks.
My eyes dart around the lively scene, searching for Alistair's familiar presence. An uneasy feeling begins to churn in my gut. Something is amiss.
A moment passes, before a sudden, blood-curdling shriek pierces through the air. The once animated laughter and conversation come to an abrupt halt, replaced by a heavy silence.
Elara freezes, her gaze snapping from the fire to mine. The hate in her eyes is momentarily replaced by genuine fear. I rise from my seat, hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of my sword.
[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]“Please, don’t eat that,” I manage to choke out, my stomach turning in revolt as my gaze shifts from the plate to Alec's frail form. "I’m so sorry," I murmur, my remorse evident though none of this is my doing.A surge of anger courses through me, directed at Alina. Every fiber of my being despises her. I clench my teeth, restraining curses. She orchestrated this, fully aware of the consequences. If only Alec had still been in Mistral Hollow, none of this tragedy would unfold. But she manipulated Alpha Zander into assigning him as my personal guard.Not only am I being punished for never doing anything wrong, so is Alec.He still keeps his head bowed between folded knees. I cautiously approach, avoiding the cold touch of silver bars, and notice eerie black swirls on his bare back It’s not something I’ve seen before on him and I’ve seen him more naked than this several times. “What is that?” I ask out loud without intending to do so. “Oh, here you are,” a voice interrupts my
[MAGNUS] Morgana’s words still grasp much of my attention as I make my way through the hallways of the palace to get to the council room. Curing a rogue is an impossible concept — something never thought of before. Something that hasn’t been done successfully before. Several mages have tried, going any lengths — as far as to sacrifice a hundred druids, only to watch helplessly as the rogue werewolf perished in front of their eyes. But if Morgana believes she can do it using some magical herbs, an artifact and a spell, I’m not going to stop her. There’s nothing for me to lose here. The only pain that can come from this is not finding Morgana earlier. Precisely three years ago, a time when I would’ve given up my own life just so I could cure a rogue. But there’s also the causal condition. A hydralith bite inducing rogueness can be cured if done before the werewolf has completely lost control of their consciousness. At least that’s what the scarlet-eyed witch tells me. And I can d
[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]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
[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