I sit on the edge of Caspian’s bed, my fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the quilt. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. It’s been over an hour since he left, and the silence is starting to get to me. My mind wanders back to our earlier conversation, the way his voice had softened when he told me I wasn’t disposable. My heart does a little flutter at the memory, and I quickly push the thought away. He’d never feel that way about me. I’m just his maid, nothing more.A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. I frown, glancing at the clock. He wouldn’t knock on his own door, would he? I stand, smoothing out my skirt as I move to open it. My hand hesitates on the knob for a moment before I twist it, pulling the door open.Eden stands on the other side, a tray of freshly baked cookies in her hands and a premeditated smile plastered on her face. The smile falls the moment her eyes land on me, replaced by a look of pure disdain.“What are y
I step into Caspian's chambers, shutting the door behind me as quietly as possible. My heart still pounds from the confrontation with Eden, but it stops altogether when I see him pacing. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides, his expression unreadable. He turns sharply, and his piercing gaze locks onto mine."Where were you?" His voice is low, measured—but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. "I told you to wait for me."I open my mouth, prepared to explain, but before I can utter a word, his eyes drop to my arm. The bandage is stark white against my skin, and he stills, his jaw tightening."What happened?" He strides toward me, grabbing my wrist carefully but firmly, his fingers grazing the gauze. Then his voice drops into a dangerous growl. "Who did this?""I was getting to that," I murmur, feeling the warmth of his grip seep into my skin.His grip tightens slightly. "Tell me now."I swallow hard. "Eden."The word is barely out of my mouth before his body stiffens li
I find Theo exactly where I expect him to be—sitting beneath the old oak tree in the garden, a place that seems to give him solace despite being in unfamiliar territory. His back is against the rough bark, his arms resting loosely over his bent knees. As I step closer, he lifts his head, his sharp gaze locking onto mine."Hey," he greets, his tone casual, but there's an edge to it. "Took you long enough to find me."I roll my eyes and sit on the grass without invitation. "I knew you'd be here."He studies me for a moment, then his expression shifts. His eyes flick to my arm, where the bandage is still wrapped securely. Without a word, he reaches out and takes my wrist, turning it slightly to examine it. His touch is gentle, but his fingers tighten when he sees the wound beneath."What the hell happened?" His voice is sharp, demanding.I sigh. "A lady called Eden happened. She accused me of stealing from the Prince and dug her nails into me when she was dragging me down the halls for
“This is assault!” Cass’s voice rings out, sharp and furious. She’s pacing the room, her hands clenched into fists, her face flushed with anger. “Why did she do that? Why would she hurt you?”I sit on the edge of her bed, my bandaged arm resting in my lap. “She brought a plate of cookies for Caspian,” I explain, my voice calm despite the tension in the room. “Hoping to warm his heart, no doubt. She found me in his room and went ballistic. Called me a thief.”She stops pacing, her eyes blazing. “That’s it. I’m done.” She grabs her coat from the back of her chair and storms toward the door.“Wait!” I call after her, scrambling to my feet. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”She doesn’t slow down. “I’m going to the pack house to finally give that bitch a piece of my mind. She needs to learn her fucking place.”I follow her out of the room, my heart racing. She’s moving faster than I’ve ever seen her, her anger propelling her forward. We run into her parents in the living ro
I don’t remember walking back.One moment, I’m standing in the garden, my body stiff with cold, my heart beating too fast, my ears ringing with the sound of his voice."It’s already enough that you got rid of her parents. You don’t have to get rid of her too."My uncle.My uncle killed my parents.The next moment, I’m inside, standing in the warm glow of the house. I barely register the change. I barely register anything.A voice reaches me, but it’s muffled, like it's coming from underwater.“Lilah?”Another voice. Urgent. Concerned. A hand grabs my wrist.I don’t react.I don’t move.I can’t move.More hands touch me—my arms, my shoulders. The voices grow more frantic, but I can’t hear them. I can’t hear them.There’s too much noise in my head."Got rid of her parents.""You don’t have to get rid of her too."I pull my wrist free, turn, and start walking.I don’t know where I’m going, but my feet do.I climb the stairs, one slow step at a time. The world is a blur, a dull haze press
I don't know how long I sit curled up on the floor crying my lungs out, but my eyes feel sore and the tears that poured out in torrents have now slowed down.The door swings suddenly swings open and the scent of roses flood the room, wrapping around me, invading my senses.My fingers twitch at my sides. I don’t need to turn around to know that Caspian is the one strolling into the room.I wipe at my face quickly, dragging my sleeve over my cheeks, hoping—praying—I can erase any trace of the tears. My heart pounds as I frantically brush at the puffiness under my eyes, willing them to return to normal.I don't want to seem pathetic. I can't let him see me broken down like this. "You didn’t come in early," he says.His voice is smooth, but there’s something underneath it—something sharp, something unimpressed."I had to go without breakfast today," he continues, walking towards his desk.I hear the familiar clink of metal against wood as he empties his pockets. His wallet, his phone. T
“What did he do to you?” Caspian’s voice is low, almost a growl, his eyes sharp and searching as they lock onto mine.I try to hold back my tears, looking up to the high ceiling of his room to blink them away. He’s leaning forward now, away from the pillows, his posture tense, his expression unreadable. But I can feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of it pressing down on me.I lose the fight with my tears when my mother’s face floods my mind. Her smile, her laugh, the way she used to brush my hair when I was little—it all comes rushing back, and I can’t stop the sob that escapes me. I cover my face with my hands, my shoulders shaking as the grief crashes over me like a wave. I feel pathetic now, but I can't help it. She should still be here. It's not fair.“He killed her,” I choke out, my voice breaking. “He killed my mother.”The room goes still. I hear him suck in a sharp breath, the sound cutting through the silence and it only makes me cry harder.For a moment, neither o
The halls are dimly lit, the soft glow of the lanterns casting elongated shadows against the stone walls as I make my way to the kitchen. It’s been a month since I learned the truth about my parents, a month of carrying the unbearable weight of that knowledge alone. Each passing day has been a reminder of the rage festering inside me, the need to do something about it, to find the proof I need. But planning and acting are two very different things, and right now, all I have is a desperate plan.I have to return to Moonhaven.The only way to uncover the truth is to go back, to dig through the past, to search for whatever evidence I can find. But I haven’t told Cassidy yet and I don't think I will until I've gone through with it. If I did, she’d try to stop me. She’d say it’s too dangerous, that it’s not my fight, but she’d be wrong.This is my fight.I take a shortcut through the hallway that overlooks the garden, intending to get to the kitchen faster, but something makes me pause
The scent of blood lingers thick in the air, mixing with the damp earth beneath my boots. The moon barely cuts through the thick canopy of trees, casting long shadows over the fallen bodies. Their lifeless forms lie sprawled across the ground, the fight drained from them. It was over fast—too fast. Three rogues, dead before they even had a chance to scream. It’s not satisfying. It’s just... work.Ethan nudges one of the corpses with his boot, his expression bored. "Well, that was disappointing," he mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was hoping they’d at least put up a decent fight. Maybe throw a punch or two. But no, they just flopped over like dead fish. Pathetic."I wipe the blood off my blade, watching as the crimson soaks into the dirt. The forest is quiet now, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the wind. "They weren’t fighters," I say, my voice even. "Just scouts. Testing the borders. Seeing how far they could push before we pushed back."Ethan scoffs, stepping
The market square is bustling, the air thick with the scent of fresh bread and ripe fruit. I weave through the crowd, my basket swinging at my side, when I see him. Darius. My heart skips a beat, then plummets. He’s standing by the fountain, his dark hair catching the sunlight, his posture relaxed and confident. But it’s not just him. There’s a girl beside him, her laughter ringing out like a bell, too loud, too close. She’s beautiful, with black curls and a smile that seems to stretch too wide. They’re leaning in, heads almost touching, and my chest tightens.I shouldn’t care. We’re not officially mated yet, but we’re fated. He’s mine, and I’m his. So why does it feel like a knife is twisting in my gut?His head snaps up, as if he senses me watching. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the world narrows to just him. His lips curl into that familiar smirk, the one that makes my stomach flutter even when I know it shouldn’t. He raises a hand, beckoning me over. My feet move before
The dining hall hums with the clinking of silverware and the low murmur of conversation. The long wooden table is overflowing with roasted meats, steaming vegetables, and goblets of deep red wine that glisten under the flickering chandelier light. The air smells of rosemary and thyme, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the silverware. I move quietly around the table, refilling glasses and serving plates, trying to stay invisible. It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years—being unseen, unheard. But tonight, my hands tremble, my thoughts a chaotic mess.At the head of the table, Alpha Rowan, my uncle, commands attention effortlessly. His hard golden eyes sweep over the council members as he discusses pack resources, his deep voice cutting through the room like a blade. He’s dressed in his usual dark tunic, the fabric tailored to perfection, the golden crest of Moonhaven embroidered on his chest. He looks every bit the Alpha, every bit the man who holds my fate in his hands.
I sift through the files in my father’s royal study, the scent of aged parchment and oak filling the air. The fireplace crackles in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the dark walls lined with books of law, history, and the many conquests of Golden Crest. My father’s meticulous handwriting marks the margins of various documents, but one file catches my eye—a thick, yellowed folder labeled 'Moonhaven Case'.I pull it out and flip through the contents, my brow furrowing with every page. Moonhaven. The wolf pack that somehow broke out of Golden Crest’s authority. A lawless land, untouched by the kingdom's rule. And yet, here it is—a case file, an unresolved issue, one that should have been dealt with ten years ago.I clench my jaw. How the hell did my father let this slide?I slam the folder shut and lean back in the chair, my fingers drumming against the polished wood of his desk. This is unacceptable. A pack operating outside of our rule is a direct threat to our sove
The kitchen is hot, steam rising from the pots on the stove and clinging to my skin like a second layer. My arms ache from carrying the pail of milk, the weight of it pulling at my shoulders. I’m not built for this—not like them. My human body is weak compared to theirs, and the cook never lets me forget it.“Hurry up, girl!” she snaps, her voice sharp as a whip. “You’re slower than a snail in winter. What’s taking you so long?”I bite my tongue, forcing myself not to respond. She’s been scolding me all morning, even though I’ve been on my feet since dawn, scrubbing floors, peeling vegetables, and hauling supplies. Nothing I do is ever enough for her. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, setting the pail down with a thud. My hands are trembling, and I can feel the blisters forming on my palms. “I’ll try to be faster.”“Try?” she scoffs, her hands on her hips. “You should be doing, not trying. Useless, that’s what you are. A human in a wolf’s world. What good are you?”I flinch at her words, but
Theo’s room smells like him—like rain and something faintly metallic, like the edge of a storm. I’m on my knees, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the wooden floor, my hands raw and stinging from the soap. The pack house is never clean enough for them, and neither am I. But Theo’s room is different. It’s quieter here, softer. The walls are lined with books, and the bed is always unmade, like he’s just rolled out of it. I don’t mind cleaning this space. It feels like the closest I’ll ever get to being part of something.The door creaks open, and I freeze. He’s here. I don’t look up, not right away. I keep scrubbing, even though my hands are trembling. I can feel his eyes on me, heavy and unreadable. “You don’t always have to do that,” Theo says, his voice low and steady. I finally glance up, and there he is, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. He’s wearing a dark sweater that makes his hair look even lighter, almost golden in the dim light. He sends me a small smi
The grand hall of the estate is eerily silent, save for the steady click of my father’s polished shoes against the marble floor. He stands in front of me, arms crossed, exuding the usual 'I-am-your-father-and-you-will-listen-to-me' energy. My mother is beside him, a perfectly composed ice sculpture in a designer dress, her sharp grey eyes—our sharp grey eyes—assessing me with the usual judgment."You're in charge while we're gone," my father announces, his voice firm and unyielding, as if he hasn’t already said this a hundred times.I don’t respond immediately, my hands shoved into the pockets of my tailored jacket. Instead, I glance out the tall windows, where the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the estate grounds. The weight of his words settles over me, heavy and familiar. "I’m aware," I finally say, my tone low and measured.He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my lack of enthusiasm. "This isn’t a joke, Caspian. The rogues are becoming bolder. They’re not
(Before Goldencrest)The scent of pine and damp stone lingers in the air as I scrub the floors of the waiting area in the packhouse, the soapy water cool against my raw, reddened palms. The bristles of the brush scrape against the wooden planks, the repetitive motion soothing in a way that almost lets me forget where I am—what I am.Almost.Boots clunk against the floor, tracking dirt and grime over the freshly scrubbed surface. No one spares me a glance, no one acknowledges the work I do. It’s expected of me, the human among wolves, the weakest link in a pack that prides itself on strength. Even if my mother was once Alpha. Even if my uncle is now the reigning one. None of that matters. I’m nothing but an obligation, a stain they haven’t yet scrubbed away.A shadow falls over me, and before I can look up, the metal bucket beside me clatters to the ground. Water spills across the floor, soaking into my pants, drenching the small space I just finished cleaning."Oops," a voice draw
The music swells around us, soft yet powerful, the perfect melody for a moment like this. My hand rests in Caspian's, and my other rests lightly on his shoulder as we glide across the ballroom floor. The golden chandeliers overhead bathe us in warm light, making everything shimmer—my silver gown, the golden embroidery on Caspian’s regal suit, the crown atop his head, and the one newly placed upon mine.The ceremony was breathtaking, a moment forever etched in my soul. I was not just Caspian’s mate now—I was his queen, standing beside him in every sense of the word. And now, at the reception, with laughter and celebration all around us, I finally allow myself to breathe, to feel the joy that tonight has brought.Caspian pulls me closer, his breath teasing my ear as he murmurs, “I have half a mind to steal you away from all these people.”I smile, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. “And risk the wrath of Cassidy? She’s spent a week planning this. I don’t think even you, King of Gol