The wind whispers through the open window, carrying a faint scent of jasmine that mingles with the pounding of my heart.
“Alina can’t marry him, Alpha. She’s weak,” my father begins, his trembling voice resounding in the pack’s courtroom.
Beta Collis smirks at him from where he stands beside Alpha Zander before he comments, “A weakling for a weakling. What can be a better match for the twisted Prince of Caelondor?”
I grit my teeth, suppressing a curse. Beta Collis has never been kind towards my family but his remark was unnecessary.
"Alpha Zander," my father continues, ignoring his fellow Beta's words. His shoulders are slumped and he looks older than his years. "The pack healer says she might not live long."
My stepmother stifles a sob as she clutches the sides of her robe.
A rush of whispers arise from the pack members bearing witness to this meeting.
I nervously glance around and hear people talk sympathetically about my stepsister, Alina. It's unfortunate what happened to her. She was always healthy and happy but recently she fell sick and now she stands at the door of death.
Alpha Zander stands from his regal chair and the whispers die in an instant. "I agree with you, Beta Reginald. We can't let Alina marry Prince Magnus anymore. King Eldric won't like it. We don't want to mock him more than the world already does. I want to make myself clear : this alliance is important to me. So we need to find a substitute."
A moment of silence lingers as the Alpha looks around—likely searching for potential candidates—before his eyes finally settle on me.
“Elara Wildewood,” he begins, my name clear in his voice. My heart stops beating for a moment. “You’ll marry Prince Magnus Blackwell in place of your stepsister, Alina. That is my command. I understand that you’ll not disobey me.”
‘But I already have a mate!’ I want to scream at him, but I’m kept down by the Alpha’s power over me. I’m forced to oblige his command being a beta, even though my heart is already starting to break. All I manage to mumble is, “Yes, Alpha.”
***
Elara Wildewood, that's who I am. My carefree and headstrong life is about to be shattered as I am forced to step into the role of the substitute bride for my stepsister, Alina, to appease our pack and promise our fealty to King Eldric of Caelondor.
It all started with a fateful meeting beneath the silver moonlight. I met him, my mate, within the dense forest that surrounds our pack territory. I had sneaked out of the packhouse on one of my explorations, and that's when my wolf, Lila, had sniffed him out. She called him 'our mate'. The air sparked with an electric connection and an unbreakable bond formed between us. His eyes are the most magnificent things I have ever held. His name is Alec, a powerful beta werewolf just like me, and a member of our pack. Together, we dreamed of a life filled with love and endless possibilities.
We took the blessings of my father and stepmother and were soon to be married...
But fate, cruel and unyielding, has other plans.
Alina's health deteriorated recently, rendering her unfit to fulfill her duty as the chosen bride. The responsibility, like an anchor weighing heavy on my shoulders, fell upon me.
The alpha of our pack, Alpha Zander, couldn't bear the thought of losing this alliance. He needed to prove to the king that he had the support and loyalty of our pack. So, he demanded that I marry Magnus Blackwell, the infamous werewolf Prince of Caelondor. His reputation is tarnished by rumors of his wickedness. Despite my protests, and my pleas for an alternative, the pack saw no other option but to offer me as the substitute.
Since then, the news of it has spread like wildfire through our territory. I'm offered condolences by some as I'm to spend the rest of my life with a disabled, wicked man—they pity me, giving me sympathetic glances. And the others offer me congratulations as I'm to become a part of royalty. All of this is happening while my stepsister toils in the other room, fighting against death.
All I want to do is tell them off, but my stepmother would love to use that as an excuse to strike me. So I don't give her the chance.
The thought of running away with Alec crosses my mind. If we succeed to get past the border, we can make a life together, away from the responsibilities of our pack. We will become rogues, but with Alec by my side, I believe I can be happy regardless.
But he's an honorable man. He will never go against the Alpha's choices. And it will be treason. If we're caught, we'll be shamed and executed.
And I? How can I betray my father? He has loved me and cared for me all my life. And this is the only thing he has asked for in return. Cruel as it may seem, he asked me to give up Alec and marry the Prince.
I denied. I pleaded. I argued. That's when Celeste, my stepmother, struck me. A tight slap across my cheek for denying to give up my love. My father scolded her but she did not apologize. Instead, she said, "Do your duty to your pack."
Ever since that day, I cry myself to sleep every night. Even now, the tears fall down as I look at my reflection helplessly.
A sudden knock on the door startles me. I get to my feet and mumble, "Come inside."
My stepmother enters, draped in a long turquoise gown, her favorite color. Her dark hair is tousled down her back and she has a habit of running her fingers through it repeatedly. A maid is by her side, a frightened look plastered on her face. "Your lover is here to meet you," she tells me.
I scowl at the bitterness in her voice, but my voice is composed when I reply, "Let him inside."
She fixes a stern look on me and then crossing the distance between us, she holds my face in her hand, her fingernails digging in my cheeks. "Don't even try anything foolish, girl. I have all of my eyes and ears on you."
"Yes, Mother," I speak through gritted teeth, bearing the pain of her tortuous grip. She lets go of me and I growl, creating distance between us.
"I pity you. Everyone wants to marry a prince. But a weak and deformed one? How unfortunate you are," she mocks me, a sinister smile growing on her pale face.
With that she leaves me, the maid trails behind her but not before giving me another sympathetic look.
I hold my breath as the door opens again and my wolf, Lila picks my mate's scent. She gets excited, ignoring the misery I feel upon seeing him again.
Alec stands before me, his gaze distant and devoid of the warmth that had once consumed his eyes. I want to wrap my arms around him and drown myself in the familiar warmth of his body. I want to pull him into a mind numbing kiss so I can forget the truth for at least some time. I move closer to touch his face, but with every step I take toward him, he takes one back until he's at the door. Before I can say a word, he speaks, his words are unexpected and disastrous.
"I, Alec Tawr of Lunar Crest pack, reject you, Elara Wildewood, of Lunar Crest pack," he utters, his voice cutting through the silence. The words sear into my soul, and my heart shatters, broken pieces scattering within me.
"No!" I yell. How could he reject me? The one he claimed to love, the one we believed to be inseparable. The pain consumes me, wrapping its icy tendrils around my spirit. "Why?" I ask, letting out a painful cry as my knees give away and I collapse to the floor.
Does he think that I agreed to marry Prince Magnus willingly? That I don't wish to be with him? I know he can read my thoughts or at least he could before he rejected me.
"Why?" I repeat, groaning due to the pain of the broken mate bond.
He blinks and I see him shiver as he clenches his jaw. I watch him struggle to stand still. "Just accept the rejection, El. Make it stop," he says, his voice sharp and hard.
I allow myself to cry, letting the tears cascade down my cheeks until I'm a sobbing mess. "I can't. I want you."
He clutches his chest and I hate to see him hurting. "It's not possible. Please accept the rejection. It hurts. Make it stop."
And so I do it. "I, Elara Wildewood of Lunar Crest pack, accept your rejection."
Something is sucked out of me and I'm convinced it's my soul because once the words are out, I feel empty. Absolutely and utterly hollow on the inside.
Alec takes in a shaky breath and stumbles right where he's standing. He's likely feeling the same. His eyes are lowered to the ground as he says in a whisper dismissively, "It was good knowing you, El. Thank you for loving me."
[MAGNUS]I recline in the bathtub, the warmth of the water enveloping me as the palace servants go about their tasks. Steam swirls in the opulent chamber, the scent of chamomile lingering in the air and my mind wanders through the labyrinth of lies spun by my detested uncle, the king.As the palace servants meticulously wash me, their eyes averted, I stare at my own half-naked reflection in the mirror. I'm not disabled; it's a fabrication concocted by my uncle's twisted mind, fueled by his hatred and fear. The king seeks to undermine me, to strip away any sense of power or influence I might possess. He's afraid of what I could do to him. But it's time to reclaim my power, turn the tables on my enemies, and catch them off guard.Alistair, my loyal beta werewolf, stands guard outside the chamber, a silent guardian of my secrets.As I rise from the bathtub, the servants hastily rush to cover my body with linen. Alistair makes his way toward me before his eyes follow a servant as she walk
[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
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]“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