The northern gate was still smoking when I arrived.
Not from fire. Not from war.
From magic.
The air reeked of ozone and blood, the stone cracked and scorched, the ancient sigils along the archway flickering like dying embers. The storm had passed, but its echo remained—crackling in the silence, humming beneath my skin. My wolf growled low in my chest, restless, unsettled. He didn’t like this place. Didn’t like what had happened here.
And he didn’t like him.
I stepped over the threshold, my boots crunching on shattered stone, my senses sharp, my body coiled like a spring. I wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was. The High Queen had sealed the area after the battle, declared it cursed, forbidden. But I didn’t care about her decrees. I didn’t care about politics.
I cared about her.
Tide.
My Tide.
Not mine in the way he claimed her—no, never that. But mine in the way a storm belongs to the sky. In the way a blade belongs to the hand that wields it. In the way a heart belongs to the one who holds it, even if they don’t know it.
And I needed to see her.
The watchtower loomed ahead, half-collapsed, its roof torn open by lightning. The air around it shimmered—unnatural, thick with power. I could feel it in my bones, in the pulse of my blood, in the way my fur prickled beneath my skin. Blood magic. Storm magic. Them.
They’d been here.
They’d fought.
And from the state of the place, they’d won.
I moved through the ruins in silence, my senses scanning, my ears twitching at every whisper of wind, every creak of stone. The bodies were gone—cleared by servants or dissolved by magic. But the blood remained. Splattered on the walls. Soaked into the floor. Dried in black streaks across the pedestal where the anchor had been.
And then—
I saw it.
Not a body. Not a weapon.
A boot.
Small. Leather. Reinforced at the heel. Worn at the toe.
Hers.
I picked it up, turning it in my hands. Still warm. Still humming with residual magic. Still her. I pressed it to my nose—inhaling the scent of storm and salt and something uniquely Tide. My wolf growled, not in warning, but in longing.
And then—
I heard it.
Not a voice. Not a footstep.
But the bond.
Not mine. Never mine.
Theirs.
It pulsed in the air like a heartbeat, warm and deep, a living thing. I could feel it—the way it wrapped around them, the way it fed them, the way it changed them. It wasn’t just magic. It wasn’t just fate.
It was merger.
And it terrified me.
Because I’d seen what it did to her.
Not in the battle. Not in the storm.
But in the way she looked at him.
Not with hate.
Not with vengeance.
With recognition.
Like she’d found something she didn’t know she was missing.
And I—Riven, Beta of the Northern Pack, warrior, protector—had been left behind.
I tucked the boot into my coat and left the ruins, the weight of it pressing against my ribs like a wound. The Fae High Court was quiet, the torches dim, the corridors empty. The war hadn’t started—not yet. But it was coming. I could feel it in the air, in the silence, in the way the guards moved with tension in their shoulders, their eyes sharp, their hands near their weapons.
And I knew—
My pack would have to choose.
They’d been neutral for too long. Isolated. Hidden. But neutrality was a luxury we could no longer afford. Not when the vampire houses were fracturing. Not when the Fae were preparing for war. Not when she was in the middle of it all.
I reached the suite—Kael’s suite, their suite—and hesitated.
I shouldn’t be here.
I wasn’t welcome.
But I didn’t care.
I knocked—once, hard.
No answer.
I knocked again.
The door opened.
Not Kael.
Her.
Tide stood in the doorway, her storm-gray eyes blazing, her braid pulled tight, her body coiled like a spring. She wore black—tight trousers, a high-collared tunic, boots that clicked against the stone. No crown. No title. No throne.
But she carried power like a queen.
And when she saw me, her breath caught.
“Riven,” she said, voice low. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you,” I said.
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped aside. “Come in.”
I did.
The suite was dim, the fire reduced to embers, the torches burning low. Kael stood by the hearth, dressed in black, his circlet absent, his hair slightly tousled. He didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Just watched me—obsidian eyes unreadable, yet filled with something I couldn’t name.
Challenge.
Warning.
And beneath it all—respect.
He knew what I was.
What I’d do for her.
And he wasn’t afraid.
That annoyed me.
“You took a risk coming here,” he said, voice low, rough. “The Queen has eyes everywhere.”
“So do I,” I said, stepping forward. “And I don’t answer to her.”
“No,” he said. “You answer to her.”
My gaze flicked to Tide.
She didn’t look away.
And in that moment, I knew—
She wasn’t mine anymore.
Not in the way I’d hoped.
Not in the way I’d dreamed.
And I hated that.
“I found this,” I said, pulling the boot from my coat. “At the northern gate. Still warm. Still humming with magic.”
She took it, her fingers trembling as she traced the worn leather. “You shouldn’t have gone there,” she said, voice quiet. “It’s not safe.”
“Neither is this,” I said, gesturing to the suite, to him, to the bond that hummed between them like a war drum. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Tide. You think you’re in control. But you’re not. The bond—it’s changing you. It’s using you.”
“And you think I don’t know that?” she snapped. “You think I don’t feel it? The way it pulls me toward him. The way it makes me want things I shouldn’t. The way it makes me forget why I came here?”
“Then why stay?” I asked, stepping closer. “Why not walk away? Why not come with me? My pack—we’ll protect you. We’ll fight for you. We’ll—”
“And what about him?” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “What about the man who tried to save my mother? The boy who brought her water? The one who called her Elara?”
My chest ached.
Not from anger.
From the truth in her voice.
From the way she said his name—like it was sacred. Like it was a prayer.
“He’s a vampire,” I said. “A prince. A killer. He’s not one of us.”
“Neither am I,” she said. “I’m not a werewolf. I’m not a pureblood. I’m not even fully Fae. I’m a storm. I’m a weapon. And he’s the only one who sees me—truly sees me.”
I looked at Kael.
He didn’t flinch. Just met my gaze—steady, unyielding.
And then—
He spoke.
“She’s not leaving,” he said. “And I’m not letting her go.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I growled.
“I already did,” he said. “The bond doesn’t lie. It knows what it wants. And it wants her.”
“And if she dies?” I demanded. “If Vexen comes for her blood? If the Queen executes her? If the war consumes her? What then?”
He didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Our faces were inches apart. His breath was cool against my skin. The bond hummed—warm, deep, alive.
And then—
He said the one thing I never expected.
“Then I’ll burn the world to ash,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “And I’ll follow her into the fire.”
I froze.
Not from fear.
From the truth in his voice.
From the way his eyes burned—not with possession, but with devotion.
And I knew—
He wasn’t lying.
He would.
He’d burn everything for her.
And that—more than anything—terrified me.
Because I realized—
I couldn’t protect her from him.
Not because he was stronger.
Not because he was a prince.
But because she wanted him.
And that was the one thing I couldn’t fight.
I turned to her.
“You’re making a mistake,” I said, voice quiet. “You think this bond is love. But it’s not. It’s magic. It’s fate. It’s control.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But it’s the only thing that’s ever made me feel free.”
I didn’t argue.
Just reached into my coat and pulled out a silver locket—ancient, tarnished, its surface etched with Northern runes. I pressed it into her hand.
“My mother gave this to me,” I said. “Before she died. She said it would protect me. That it would guide me when I was lost.”
She looked at it—then at me. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because you’re not lost,” I said. “But you will be. And when you are—open it. And remember who you are. Not the storm. Not the weapon. Not the avenger.
“Remember the girl who laughed in the rain. The one who taught me how to read. The one who said, *‘Someday, we’ll run free, Riven. Someday, we’ll be wild.’*”
Her breath caught.
Tears burned her eyes.
And for the first time since I’d known her, she looked young.
Not a warrior.
Not a queen.
Just a woman.
Lost.
And I couldn’t fix it.
“I can’t ask you to fight for me,” I said, stepping back. “Not against him. Not against the bond. But I can ask you to remember.
“Remember who you were before the vengeance. Before the mission. Before the storm.”
She didn’t answer.
Just closed her fingers around the locket, her knuckles white.
And I knew—
She wouldn’t forget.
But she wouldn’t come back.
I turned to leave.
“Riven,” she said, voice breaking.
I stopped.
Didn’t turn.
“If the war comes,” she said. “If the Council turns on us—will you stand with us?”
I didn’t answer at first.
Just looked at Kael.
He met my gaze—steady, unyielding.
And then—
I nodded.
“I’ll fight for you,” I said. “Not for him. Not for the bond. But for you.”
“And if he dies?” she asked.
“Then I’ll protect you,” I said. “Even if it kills me.”
She didn’t speak.
Just watched me as I walked to the door.
And then—
She said the one thing that broke me.
“I love you, Riven. But not like that. Never like that.”
I didn’t flinch.
Just opened the door.
“I know,” I said.
And then I was gone.
The northern woods were quiet when I returned, the moon high, the air thick with pine and frost. My pack was waiting—wolves in human form, their eyes sharp, their bodies coiled like springs. They could smell the tension on me. Could feel the grief in my steps.
“You saw her,” Kael said—no, Kael wasn’t here. My second. Kaelen.
“I did,” I said.
“And?”
I didn’t answer. Just walked to the fire, the silver locket heavy in my pocket. I pulled it out, turning it in my hands. The runes glowed faintly—Northern magic, ancient, protective.
And then—
I spoke.
“We fight,” I said. “Not for the vampire. Not for the bond. But for her.”
“And if she’s lost to us?” Kaelen asked.
“Then we fight anyway,” I said. “Because she’s worth it.”
They didn’t argue.
Just nodded.
And I knew—
The war wasn’t just coming.
It was already here.
And we were the only ones who could stop it.
Back in the city, in the suite, I could feel it—the bond, the storm, the truth.
And I whispered the one thing I’d never say to her face.
“I love you, Tide.
“And I’ll die for you.
“But I’ll never stand in your way.”