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Sage The messenger's black and silver uniform catches my eye first – Blackthorn colors. I freeze in the hallway, heart hammering against my ribs. He's speaking with one of Alaric's guards, but all I can focus on is the familiar crest on his jacket.Memories surface like drowning things: Daphne's cruel smile, Cassius's gentle lies, the pack's jeering faces as he rejected me. The corridor suddenly feels too small, the air too thin."Sage?" Iris touches my arm, making me jump. "You're white as a sheet."I try to speak, but the messenger turns slightly, and something in his profile reminds me so much of Cassius that bile rises in my throat. A flash of memory hits me – finding him in his study late one night, hunched over strange vials, speaking to someone in hushed tones. He'd seen me and smiled, but there had been something wrong about it, something I'd been too naive to recognize."Just tired," I manage, but Iris's frown says she doesn't believe me.The messenger disappears into Alaric'
Alaric Blood soaks into the ground at my feet, but for once it's not from enemies. Three of my best warriors lie writhing in pain, their wounds refusing to heal. The mutant wolves' latest attack was coordinated, precise - and their claws leave marks that resist our strongest healing magic.But even as I kneel beside my injured men, my beast claws beneath my skin, sensing Sage's distress through a bond she doesn't know exists. The conflicting pulls of duty tear at me - protect my warriors, protect my mate, protect my pack. All while maintaining the facade of cold control everyone expects from their Lycan King."Alpha." Garrett's voice draws me back. "The council is gathering. They're demanding answers."Of course they are. I leave my warriors in the healers' care, though something tells me traditional methods won't be enough this time.The council chamber buzzes with tension when I enter. Victoria holds court among the noble wolves, her golden hair arranged to display her family's cere
Sage My fingers tremble slightly as I sort herbs, too aware of the noble wolves watching my every move. Their whispers follow me like shadows through the healing wing, where more warriors arrived this morning with wounds that won't heal."Such a shame," Victoria's voice carries clearly. "These injuries are getting worse instead of better. Almost like someone's interfering with the healing process."I focus on grinding silver-leaf, trying to ignore how the other healers draw away from me. They've been using my remedies - they work better than traditional methods on these strange wounds - but no one will acknowledge it."Sage!" A young wolf bursts in, breathing hard. "Please, it's my sister. She's hurt - fell down the old cellar stairs. She's asking for you."Victoria's perfectly shaped eyebrows rise. "Surely one of our trained healers would be better suited—""No," the young wolf interrupts. "She wants Sage. Please."Something feels wrong, but I can't ignore an injured pup. I gather su
AlaricShe moves through the garden like a ghost in moonlight, her silver-blonde hair catching starlight as she mechanically sorts herbs. Even from my office window, I can see the shadows under her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands.My beast rages beneath my skin, remembering how she flinched from my touch yesterday. How she curled into herself, making her already small frame tiny with fear. The urge to hunt down everyone who hurt her wars with the need to gather her close and never let go."The noble families are demanding a response," Garrett says behind me. "Victoria's father—""Can go fuck himself.""Alaric."I turn from the window reluctantly. "I know. Politics. Alliances. The same bullshit that lets them hurt what's mine.""What's yours?" His eyebrows rise. "Have you told her yet?"I growl in response, which is answer enough.The meeting with Victoria and the noble families is mercifully brief. She plays her part perfectly - wide eyes, practiced confusion about why anyone woul
Sage The yarrow leaves blur before my eyes as my mind drifts to last night in the garden. The gentle way Alaric helped sort herbs, how his jacket smelled of pine and winter wind, the warmth of his forehead pressed to mine…I catch myself smiling and immediately try to suppress it. I can't afford these kinds of thoughts. Can't risk hoping, can't risk feeling—"That's the third time you've counted those leaves."I jump at Iris's voice. She leans against the healing wing doorway, grinning like she knows exactly where my mind was wandering."I was just..." I gesture vaguely at the herbs. "Making sure.""Mmhmm." She drops into the chair beside me. "Nothing to do with my brother being shirtless in the training yard?"Heat floods my cheeks. I hadn't even realized I could see the training yard from here. Hadn't noticed the way sunlight gleamed off his scarred skin, how power rippled through his movements as he demonstrated fighting techniques…"I'm not looking," I insist, focusing harder on
Alaric Her scent lingers on my hand where our fingers intertwined in the library last night. Honeysuckle and rain, with that underlying hint of something ancient that calls to my beast in ways I can't explain. I should be focusing on territory reports, but all I can think about is how she leaned into me slightly, trusting despite everything."Is that my brother with a dopey smile on his face?." Iris lounges in my office doorway, grinning. "You’re thinking about her, aren’t you.""I don't smile dopey," I growl, but there's no heat in it."You kind of do," Garrett adds, appearing behind her. "It's disturbing, actually.""Don't you two have duties? Besides tormenting your Alpha?""And miss this entertainment?" Iris's eyes dance. "Never."Garrett tries to pull her away, but she dances out of his reach. "Come on, menace. Let's leave his brooding in peace.""Fine." She sighs dramatically. "But only because you asked so nicely."Their playful bickering fades down the hall, leaving me with th
Sage The healing wing feels different lately. Warmer somehow. Other healers have started asking my advice about herbs, and even some of the noble wolves bring their pups to me for minor scrapes. It's a small change, but it feels like finally finding solid ground after months of shifting sand."The silver-leaf poultice you suggested worked wonders," the head healer tells me, actually smiling. "Perhaps you could show me—"She stops mid-sentence, tension suddenly filling the air. In the hallway, wolves gather, whispers spreading like wildfire:"She's back—" "Her father insisted—" "The Alpha had no choice—"Then I catch a familiar floral scent, too sweet, too perfect, and my stomach drops.Eris glides through the healing wing like she never left, elegant even in supposed exile. Her father, Lord Alexander, follows with an entourage of nobles."My King," he addresses Alaric, who's appeared in the doorway. "I come seeking sanctuary for my daughter while I travel to handle urgent territorial
Sage "Shoulders back, chin up – but not too much, you don't want to seem arrogant." Iris circles me like a general inspecting troops. "Yes, like that. Now the greeting."I attempt a formal bow, trying to remember all the rules she's drilled into me since dawn. "My Lord Alpha—""Too deep for an Alpha who isn't Alaric," she corrects. "That level of bow suggests submission to direct authority. For visiting Alphas, you want to show respect without—""Without surrendering power," I finish, adjusting my posture. "Let me try again."We've been at this for hours in her private quarters, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. My head spins with protocols and hierarchies, but something in me refuses to give up.A knock interrupts my fifth attempt at the proper greeting. Garrett enters with a loaded breakfast tray, his stern Beta face softening when he sees Iris."Thought you two might need sustenance for..." he waves vaguely at our impromptu training session, "whatever this is.""My hero." Ir
Alexander I stand in the doorway of Lyra's chambers, all my carefully prepared words evaporating at the sight of her. She looks exhausted but resolute, chin lifted slightly in that way I've come to recognize means she's bracing for an argument. The bond between us pulses with conflicting emotions—relief at our proximity battling with the lingering tension from our courtyard confrontation."Can I come in?" I ask, my voice softer than I intended.She nods, stepping back to allow me entry. I close the door behind me, grateful for the privacy after our too-public disagreement earlier."I owe you an apology," I begin, pride giving way to more important priorities. "My reaction to your return was..." I search for the right word."Possessive? Accusatory? Completely unfair?" she supplies, though the slight curve of her lips takes some sting from the words."All of the above," I admit with a rueful smile. "I was worried sick, Lyra. The bond separation, the power surges, the reports of Vega's a
Lyra The palace looks different this time—less intimidating, more like a potential sanctuary than a gilded prison. Maybe it's because I'm not arriving as a captive or a curiosity, but as someone making a conscious choice to return. Or maybe I'm just too exhausted to be intimidated anymore."You okay?" Kieran asks, pulling his horse alongside mine as we approach the eastern gate."Just tired," I assure him, though that's only part of the truth. The bond with Alexander strengthens with every hoofbeat closer to the palace, the familiar silver warmth spreading through my chest after days of uncomfortable stretching.The guards at the gate snap to attention when they recognize me, their expressions a mixture of relief and curiosity. They wave us through with minimal questions, though I notice how their eyes linger on Kieran and the other healers with suspicion.Some things haven't changed, then.The eastern courtyard bustles with activity—servants carrying supplies, guards changing shifts,
Alexander "Your Highness, the eastern patrol has returned."I look up from the maps spread across my desk to see Captain Merrick standing at attention in the doorway. The grim set of his mouth tells me he's not bringing good news."Report," I command, straightening to my full height."We've confirmed the presence of at least eight individuals matching Northern territory descriptions moving through the eastern forests." He points to the area on my map where Lyra's healing community had relocated. "They're using search patterns consistent with tracking specific targets, not random patrols."My stomach knots. "How close to the healer settlement?""Too close," he admits. "Less than five miles from their last known location."A surge of power—part Alpha, part healing—runs through me at the news, making the maps glow faintly beneath my hands. I've been fighting these manifestations all day, each one stronger than the last as the bond between Lyra and me stretches with our separation."Shit,
Lyra "What existed between us was real," I acknowledge quietly. "Friendship, respect, potential for more. I never denied that.""And now?" His question carries no accusation, only sincere desire to understand where my boundaries are now."Now complexity exists where once things seemed so simple between us, so easy." I reply, honesty demanded by years of trust between us. "The bond with Alexander doesn't erase what came before, but it changes the context irrevocably."He reaches out slowly, giving me time to withdraw if I choose, and gently brushes a strand of hair from my face. The casual intimacy of the gesture—one he's performed countless times before—suddenly carries a different weight, awareness crackling between us like the static before a storm."If fate hadn't intervened," he murmurs, "if you'd never met him...""We can't know that path because we're not walking it," I interrupt gently, though I don't pull away from his touch. "Speculating about what might have been only makes
LyraThe familiar scents of wild herbs and wood smoke welcome me as we crest the final ridge overlooking our community's temporary settlement. After the palace's overwhelming grandeur, the simple cluster of hide tents and wooden shelters feels like drawing a deep breath after being underwater too long. My shoulders relax instinctively, the tight knot of tension court life created beginning to loosen."You look happier already," Kieran observes, pulling his horse alongside mine. His green eyes study me with the perception that comes from years of friendship. "The palace weighs on you.""It's... different," I acknowledge, remaining deliberately neutral despite the relief coursing through me. "Complex in ways I never imagined.""And the prince?" he asks carefully. "Is he worth the complexity?"The question carries layers beneath its simplicity. Through our temporarily stabilized bond, I feel Alexander's presence like a silver thread stretched thin but unbroken between us. Even discussing
Alexander Throughout the day, power surges continue with increasing frequency and intensity. During an afternoon security briefing, my Alpha energy flares so strongly that decorative weapons mounted on the walls rattle in their holdings. Later, while reviewing border reports, healing power manifests as visible glow surrounding my hands, making parchment maps luminescent where I touch them.By evening, controlling these manifestations requires constant focus, draining energy needed for royal duties that cannot be postponed despite my discomfort. The council reconvenes to discuss increased activity along the eastern border—reports of strangers matching Northern territory descriptions moving through regions where healing communities traditionally hide."Vega's agents, most likely," Dominic assesses, pointing to locations marked on the tactical map. "Their movement patterns suggest searching rather than random patrol.""Searching for what?" Lord Harrison questions."Not what—who," I corre
Alexander The council chamber feels like a trap this morning—a gilded cage of obligation, duty, and politics that keeps me from what I truly want to be doing. My attention drifts repeatedly toward the window, toward the eastern gate where I know Lyra will soon depart with Kieran. Every instinct rebels against letting her leave the palace, letting her travel with another man who clearly harbors feelings for her."Your Highness?" Lord Harrison's voice cuts through my distraction. "Your thoughts on the Northern territories' proposal?"I refocus on the documents before me, forcing composure over agitation. "Their offer of partial reparations is insufficient," I state, scanning the diplomatic language that disguises the Northern delegation's attempt to minimize consequences for their actions. "They participated in an unprovoked attack on our throne. I won’t accept anything less than full accountability."The council members exchange glances, some approving, others concerned."The Northern
LyraThe council chambers occupy an imposing section of the palace, all dark wood and serious faces. When I enter, conversation halts abruptly. Alexander stands at the head of a long table scattered with maps and documents, looking exhausted but commanding. Relief crosses his features when he sees me."Lyra, thank you for coming," he says, gesturing me forward. "The council requires information about Vega's capabilities and possible locations."I step further into the room, acutely aware of the scrutiny from a dozen pairs of eyes. Most expressions range from skeptical to overtly hostile, with only Dominic and Elara offering friendly faces among the assembled advisors."Surely there are more reliable sources of intelligence than a... healer," one councilor objects, the pause before "healer" making the word sound like an insult."You’d do well to remember my mother, your queen, is a healer. As am I.” Alexander snaps, a hint of Alpha authority edging his tone. “Lyra has firsthand experien
Lyra Dinner progresses with excruciating formality. I struggle with the bewildering array of utensils, the unfamiliar dishes, the careful dance of court conversation where nothing is directly stated and everything carries double meaning. Kieran fares no better, his discomfort evident in his tense posture and minimal responses.Alexander tries to include us in conversations, explaining context and introducing friendly nobles, but his attention is constantly divided. Royal matters continuously draw him away—urgent whispers from advisors, formal greetings required by protocol, political discussions that cannot wait despite the occasion.Each time he's pulled away, our fragile bond stretches thinner, fluctuating uncomfortably. Across the table, I notice Elara watching with concern, clearly perceiving the strain through her growing abilities."The court will always demand his attention," Kieran murmurs during one such absence. "This is his life, Lyra. Endless politics, endless obligations.