Chapter 2 The Ghost and the Flame

(Arlo)

I head to the war room. Very pleased with my own timing.

I walk its length slowly, my boots echoing over the tile, letting my presence settle in every crevice.

The chair creaks as I pull one back. The one at the head of the table, of course, and drop into it like I own the place.

Outside, I can hear the frantic murmurs from the courtyard. No doubt the ceremony is stalling, the priests fidgeting, Soren sweating through his collar. 

Good. Let him flounder.

Moments later, the doors swing open and in comes Soren, looking every inch the man who knows he’s lost control. Cerelia follows two paces behind, pale and pristine, like she’s been carved from serenity itself.

“King Arlo,” Soren begins, voice careful. “How would you like to proceed?”

“I’ll let you know once I’ve spoken to your Luna.”

Cerelia tilts her head. “I’m right here.”

“I wasn’t referring to you.”

Her mouth tightens and Soren clears his throat.

“Hilda’s not-”

“According to my records, she still is,” I interrupt. “And I’d like a private conversation with her. Just the two of us.”

They hesitate. 

I let the silence stretch. Leaving them to reach the conclusion that they have no fucking choice, on their own. 

Eventually, Soren nods and gestures toward one of the guards.

The man is back in less than a moment, followed by Hilda, who looks grimly amused.

“Hilda,” Soren says quietly. “King Arlo would like to speak with you alone.”

I don’t miss the look he shoots her. Guilt and nerves laced through that practiced Alpha mask.

When she enters I see the marks his rejection has left on her.

She walks like someone who’s had to relearn every step. Stiff with defiance, raw with barely-leashed rage.

There’s nothing polished or sweet about her. She’s dressed in simple black, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair braided back tightly. Her eyes lock on mine with a soldier’s scrutiny.

And yet, beneath all that steel… she’s still flame.

I rise as she approaches. She doesn’t bow to me and I like it far too much that she doesn’t.

“I must have missed the part where you inherited this table,” she says dryly.

“I don’t wait to be handed things.”

I see a flicker of a smile, but it’s gone almost as soon as it comes.

She pauses as I get up to pull out a chair for her. When she reaches for it, my fingers graze her shoulder.

The world tilts.

It hits with the fury of a thunderclap, turning my entire being inside out. A sudden awareness. Scent. Sound. The throb of something ancient cracking open inside me.

It slams into me with a force I wasn’t prepared for. My pulse stumbles. My chest tightens. Everything sharpens around her.

Her scent, her heartbeat, the feel of her skin under my hand like it’s being burned into my memory.

I’ve never felt anything like it. Not even close. I’ve never loved. Never wanted. Never knew this depth of emotion exists.

She’s staring at me like she’s drowning, and for a moment, I think she might be. Her throat works like breathing is suddenly difficult. The pulse at her neck flutters wildly.

She seems to feel all of it too, if the way she freezes is any indication.

I exhale slowly. “Well. That’s unexpected.”

Her lips part, then press into a tight line. “No.”

“No?”

She sits, spine rigid. “I will not be bonded again.”

I wonder how she proposes to simply shake this off.

“Fated mates are rare and powerful,” I tell her. Like an idiot.

She laughs, sharp and humorless. “So is betrayal. And it can’t be all that rare, since this is my second time.”

Her voice doesn’t shake. That’s impressive. Mine might have, once.

“I love Soren,” she says, eyes fixed on mine. “I nearly died for him. I woke up an intruder in my own home, only to learn I’ve been replaced like last season’s offering. And now the goddess decides to pair me with the Alpha King like some sick joke?”

I watch her quietly. She’s not afraid. Not even now.

“I’m not looking for a mate,” she says. “I’m not looking for anything. Especially not you.”

That stings more than I’ll admit.

“I don’t want to be claimed again,” she continues. “Not by someone the world calls a monster.”

“You think I care what the world calls me?” I ask.

She meets my gaze, fire for fire. “I think you wear the title like a crown.”

I lean back. “Fair.”

We sit in silence for a moment. The bond hums between us, pulling tight, impatient for me to claim her in every way. But I don’t reach for her.

“I can help you,” I say finally.

“With what? You think I need saving?”

“No,” I say. “I think you need someone in your corner though.”

She narrows her eyes and I can feel the suspicion rolling off her in waves.

She doesn’t speak.

“Let me help,” I beg. “Not as your mate. Not yet. Just as someone who doesn’t want to see you broken.”

“And why would the big bad Alpha King care about that?”

“Because I see you,” I say. “And I don’t like watching people like you get erased.”

That lands. Her jaw clenches, but her eyes soften. Just barely, but it’s something.

“I’ll think about it,” she says. “But if you ever try to control me, I will burn your empire to ash.”

I grin, pride warming my chest.

“There she is.”