My breath is caught up in my throat as Noah steps right in front of me.
The black mask, which always concealed his face, is gone, revealing a visage I can scarcely believe exists outside of dreams. His hair is a mess of midnight, framing a face so flawlessly sculpted it seems divinely crafted. His blue eyes, in the sunshine, look deep and fathomless, mirroring the expanse of a twilight, star-lit sky and drawing me into their endless depths. His features are a chiselled to perfection, sharp yet soft, strength melded with ethereal beauty. The angles of his jawline, the perfection of his cheekbones and the gentle curve of his lips—all make him look like an ancient being. Every line, every shadow, makes me sigh in pleasure. My heart pounds within my chest, each beat a reminder of the magnetic pull I feel towards him. It's as if my very soul recognizThe man whose face I had just beheld in awe is none other than the King of Utrif. My mate is the ruler of a realm where rogues like me are branded as criminals, hunted and despised. Noah lifts one brow—a picture of complete and utter nonchalance. "I'm—" a rogue. He's the king. This can't be. There has to be a mistake. His arms are crossed. "Yes?" I shake my head and turn to glass wall. The moment I reach the end I realise I have no lungs. No breathes. There is no air. The Sun Palace, people call the Palace of Utrif. And now I know why. The weather around may be gloomy and dark but the palace exterior is sunshine morphed into crystalline brilliance. Its exterior is crafted from a material that catches and reflects the light. Shining as though it is the sun itself. It is breathtaking, an architectural marv
The moment I understand what my mate was doing, I push him away. By that time my cheeks are already flushed pink and he steps back voluntarily. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, pinning him under my scorching glare. Void of emotion, unnerving and annoyingly empty eyes seem to be his best companions as he pins me back. "Tell me you do not like me. Tell me you hate me. But do not ever deny us of our bond." "I hate you." No hesitance. "I can live with that." The way he stands so proud and sure makes me want to do thing to my own mate that I would not even wish upon my enemy. "The bond," I seethe through gritted teeth, "between us is a mistake. It has to be. Because we don't make sense." A king can never be with a rogue. "Sense," he repeats, jaw clenching. "Enlighten me, my queen. Because?"
A very vivid image of Noah with a spike made of pure silver straight through his heart flashes in my mind. The cardinal wants him dead. The cardinal wants my mate dead. I have spent fourteen years of my life with the man. And when he wants someone dead. They die. "Leona," Noah says, very carefully. As though I am a delicate piece of art. "Shall I send for the healer, sire?" the guard says. "Yes. Now." I faintly hear the door opening and closing. Then Noah grabs both my arms like I will fall if he doesn't. He looks at me like I am a broken thing in need of fixing. Which is exactly what I am but that is another story. His touch is both a balm and a torment, a reminder of the vulnerability that clings to me like a shadow. The image of his impending death claws at my mi
“It was because of the wolfsbane." Noah sighs, running a hand through his hair. Something that does little to help him. "The kalhyi's claws were lined with wolfsbane. That is why your wound has still not healed. You were dying. And your wolf was already halfway to the other side." At his words I dive into my link. And I sense the truth of his words. My wolf breathes. Barely. But she is still not awake. A heavy weight settles right in the middle of my chest. "Your link was severed. You were mortal. And you were going to die. The only way in the moment was getting your wolf to live. Being the luna to the cardinal pack connects you to the land. With that comes power. You are my mate, but you were not the luna yet so—“ "You made me accept the mate bond," I say the unsaid words. Noah does not look me in the e
Rey and I were both attacked. We were both targeted. Which means that they were not just there because they were after me, but the treaty Rey mentioned Alpha Renier had with the rogues, it is at play here too. The gears in my head start to turn. Haze, someone who had no connection with rogues, suddenly joining them. Rogues, who had very rare contact with people ever since the rogue trials started, suddenly starting to attack. And finally the cardinal sending Valis to get me to kill the king, who the rogues previously would not even dream of coming close to. The wheels of something very dangerous are creaking here. Why are the rogues so confident all of a sudden? As I am scouring through every piece of information I have and connecting whatever estranged dots I can, my mate grows restless. "Answer me."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty," the boy stutters uncontrollably, "I am Malcolm Hale, Beta Elma's aide and a senior healer at the palace. I will be escorting you to the communication's office." "Nice to meet you, Malcolm," I say, smiling. "I hope you can forgive me for holding you hostage." He is frantic, looking at every other place instead of me. "I-it's fine." "I won't do it again." He nods, but doesn't look convinced as he opens the door and spreads his arm to the right, flinching when I pass him. "This way, Your Majesty." The doors open up to an indoor balcony-like area that acts like an antechamber, where glass walls encase the entire floor—a panoramic vista of the rest of the palace and beyond it, the city, thickens my vision. We descend the broad staircase right in front and it splits around a central glass-enclosed tree that goes up and through the top of the roof. It i
The communication office is a spacious room with numerous screens and numerous people sitting in front of them. Malcolm walks swiftly, leading me from behind the booths before any one of them turns and notices us. We saunter to the right end where an open door awaits me. When I enter, a man, with grey streaking his hair from the sides and a stoic expression on his face, bows low. "Your Majesty," he says, his voice hoarse and heavy. "The line is ready. Do send for me when you are done." Just like that he slips to the side and leaves. I swallow an invisible lump down my throat as I pick up the thing. Would Rey want me to call him? Or would he tell me how stupid I am for doing so when he clearly told me to stay away? How did he react to me being mated to the king? A million questions swirl around my head, the answers nowhere to be found unless I call. My grip on the phone tightens. Leave, he had said. But I did
Malcolm serves me looks full of pity and genuine sorrow as I amble aimlessly through the empty corridors, passing by various rows of offices in the palace. During this time I find out that the palace is divided into three core sections that further branches into wings. The first section is the public square, where the whole kingdom's affairs are handled. The throne room is also present there. The second section is the pack square, where pack affairs are handled. It is where Noah's and his court is located—War room, meeting rooms, guest rooms, offices, everything. The third section, crooned into the bed of a mountain, is where I just came from. I have now walked almost every empty lane in the pack square, as most pack members are dispersed and distracted in work as their superiors are occupied in the war room with my mate. Malcolm does not meet my eyes, wordlessly following wherever I go, and only speaking when I turn to a section of the palace