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[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] 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]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