The fortress was quiet.
Not peaceful. Not calm. But the quiet of a storm held at bay—the kind that comes before the thunder, when the air is thick with warning and every breath feels like a countdown. Frostfen stood frozen beneath a bruised sky, its stone walls dusted with fresh snow, its torches flickering low. The sentinels moved like shadows, their eyes sharp, their hands never far from steel. The pack elders stayed in their quarters, whispering behind closed doors. And in the great hall, where the fire crackled and the maps of war lay spread across the stone table, I sat—and waited.
For her.
Tide hadn’t come to bed last night.
She’d left the suite after our talk, her steps silent on the stone, her face unreadable. I hadn’t stopped her. I hadn’t called her name. I’d just watched her go, my chest tight, my pulse unsteady, the bond humming between us like a live wire.
She’d asked me to leave everything.
My pack. My throne. My duty.
And I’d said yes.
Not because I wasn’t afraid. Not because I didn’t know the cost. But because I was more afraid of losing her. Of watching her walk away into the night, chasing a truth I wasn’t brave enough to face beside her.
And now—
Now I was going to Londra.
To the Fae Court.
To the woman who had ordered her mother’s death.
To the man who had cast the spell that burned Queen Mirelle alive—her own father, enchanted, controlled, broken.
I should’ve been preparing. Gathering supplies. Sending scouts. Securing the borders. But I wasn’t.
I was sitting here.
Waiting.
Because she was the only thing that mattered.
—
She found me at dusk.
The fire had died to embers. The silver-lined walls blocked any trace of magic. The silence was thick, suffocating. And then—
The door opened.
She stepped inside, her boots soft on the stone, her dark braid trailing over one shoulder, her sea-green eyes sharp, her stance coiled like a blade. She didn’t speak. Just walked to the table, dropped a leather satchel onto the map, and looked at me.
“We leave at dawn,” she said.
“I know.”
“You should be packing.”
“I am.”
She studied me. “You’re not.”
“I don’t need much,” I said. “Just my dagger. My cloak. And you.”
Her breath caught.
Just once. Just a flicker. But I saw it.
And I held it.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, voice low. “You could stay. Let me go alone.”
“And let you face Queen Nyx by yourself?” I asked. “Let you walk into a court of glamours and lies with no one at your back?”
“I’ve done it before.”
“Not like this.”
She didn’t answer.
Just looked at me. Really looked.
And I saw it—not just the warrior. Not just the avenger. But the woman beneath. The one who had watched her mother burn. The one who had been raised in human slums. The one who had clawed her way up, bloodied and broken, to reclaim a throne that wasn’t hers to take.
And I wanted to protect her.
Not as a king.
Not as an alpha.
But as a man who had finally stopped fighting the truth.
“I’m not doing this for the pack,” I said. “Not for duty. Not for power. I’m doing it for *you*.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And if I don’t want your protection?”
“Then take my loyalty,” I said. “Take my strength. Take my rage. But don’t ask me to stand by while you walk into fire.”
She was silent.
Then—
“You still don’t trust me,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
“I do,” I said. “But I don’t trust the world.”
She exhaled, slow. “Then we’re agreed. We go together. We face it together. And if one of us falls—”
“The other burns the world down,” I finished.
She didn’t smile.
But something in her eyes—something that had been frozen for ten years—began to thaw.
—
The farewell was brief.
I summoned the pack at dawn. Every sentinel, every soldier, every elder stood in rigid formation in the courtyard, their breath fogging the air, their eyes forward. Kael stood at my side, his Beta instincts on high alert. Mira watched from the back, her face calm, her hands folded. The two fae were absent—likely still under guard, still unwelcome in the inner sanctum.
Tide stood beside me, her spine straight, her gaze steady. She wore her combat gear—black leather, silver-threaded, designed for stealth and speed. Her dagger was at her belt. Her magic hummed beneath her skin, wild and electric, tied to the tides, to the moon, to the blood of her mother.
“I am leaving,” I said, voice carrying. “With Tide, to Londra. To uncover the truth about Queen Mirelle’s death. To face the Fae Queen.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd.
“Kael will act as regent in my absence,” I continued. “He speaks with my voice. He carries my authority. Any who challenge him challenge *me*.”
The pack stilled.
“And any who aid Thorne or Lyria,” I said, “will be executed on sight.”
No one spoke.
No one moved.
But I saw it—the flicker in their eyes. The doubt. The fear.
They didn’t understand.
They didn’t believe.
But they would.
When I returned.
With the truth.
And the woman at my side.
—
The journey to Londra was a blur of frost and silence.
We rode hard through the Northern Wilds, our cloaks pulled tight against the wind, our breath fogging the air. The land was barren, the trees skeletal, the sky a cold, endless gray. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. The bond hummed between us, low and steady, a thrum beneath my skin. Every time our horses fell into step, every time our shoulders brushed, every time she glanced at me from the corner of her eye—I felt it.
Not just the magic.
Not just the fate.
But *us*.
And it terrified me.
Because I had spent ten years believing I was a monster. A killer. A king who had burned his queen alive. And now—
Now I was riding beside the woman who had come to destroy me, who had every reason to hate me, who had every right to walk away—and she hadn’t.
She’d asked me to come.
She’d trusted me.
And I didn’t know if I deserved it.
—
Londra rose from the mist like a dream.
Tall spires of white stone pierced the clouds, their peaks wrapped in silver fog. Bridges of crystal arched over canals of black water, their surfaces still, glassy, reflecting the pale light. The air was thick with magic—ancient, delicate, humming with power. Fae moved through the streets like ghosts, their forms shifting, their eyes glowing, their voices soft as wind through leaves.
We dismounted at the gates.
No guards stopped us. No sentinels challenged us. The gates opened on their own, the stone groaning as it parted, the air shimmering with invisible wards.
“They’re watching,” Tide whispered.
“Of course they are,” I said. “This is their court. Their game.”
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, her boots echoing on the crystal path. “Then let them play.”
—
The High Court was a cavern of light.
Columns of white marble rose to a vaulted ceiling painted with constellations that shifted as we walked. The floor was polished obsidian, reflecting the torches like stars. And at the far end—
Queen Nyx.
She sat on a throne of thorned silver, her gown black as midnight, her hair a cascade of silver and shadow. Her eyes—violet, ancient—locked onto Tide the moment we entered.
And she *smiled*.
“Daughter,” she purred. “You’ve come home.”
Tide didn’t move. “I’m not your daughter.”
“Oh, but you are,” Nyx said, rising. “Blood of my blood. Magic of my magic. You carry the mark of the Court of Thorns.”
“I carry the mark of a murderer,” Tide said. “You ordered my mother’s death.”
Nyx didn’t deny it. “She was a threat. A hybrid sovereign with werewolf strength and fae grace? She would have unbalanced the world.”
“And my father?”
“A pawn,” Nyx said. “A tool. He served his purpose.”
“Where is he?”
“Alive,” Nyx said. “For now. But he is weak. Broken. He begged for your life. Said you were his legacy. His mistake.”
Tide’s hands clenched. “I want to see him.”
“You will,” Nyx said. “After you prove your loyalty.”
“How?”
Nyx gestured to the center of the hall.
>A long table had been set—crystal goblets, silver platters, a feast of fruits, meats, breads. And at the head—a single chalice, filled with dark red wine.“A toast,” Nyx said. “To family. To blood. To the future.”
My stomach dropped.
“You drink first,” Tide said.
“Of course,” Nyx said, smiling. She took the chalice, raised it, and drank.
Then she handed it to Tide.
“Your turn, daughter.”
Tide hesitated.
And that’s when I saw it.
A flicker in Nyx’s eyes.
A twitch in her fingers.
And the scent—
Not wine.
Poison.
Subtle. Fae. Designed to mimic blood-magic, to bind the drinker to the caster.
And if Tide drank—
She’d be under Nyx’s control.
Forever.
—
I moved.
Fast.
One second I was beside her. The next, I had the chalice in my hand, the wine at my lips, the burn of it sliding down my throat.
“No!” Tide screamed.
But it was too late.
The wine hit my stomach like fire.
My vision blurred.
My knees buckled.
And then—
Darkness.
—
I woke to pain.
Not physical. Not the burn of poison in my veins.
Worse.
The pain of her voice.
“Riven!”
Sharp. Desperate. Broken.
My eyes opened.
I was on the floor. The hall was a blur of light and shadow. Tide knelt over me, her hands on my chest, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror.
“Don’t you dare die,” she whispered. “Don’t you *dare*.”
My breath came slow. “I’m not dying.”
“You drank poison!”
“Not poison,” I said, coughing. “Blood-bond. Fae magic. Designed to bind.”
“Then why are you on the floor?”
“Because I’m not fae,” I said. “My body rejected it. But it hurt like hell.”
She didn’t laugh.
Just looked at me. Really looked.
And then—
She slapped me.
Hard.
“You *idiot*!” she screamed. “You could’ve died! You could’ve been *bound*! You didn’t know what was in that chalice!”
“I knew enough,” I said, touching my cheek. “I saw her eyes. I smelled the magic. And I knew—”
I reached up.
Cupped her face.
“I knew I couldn’t let you drink it.”
Her breath caught.
“You’re not what I expected,” she whispered.
“Neither are you,” I said.
And then—
Queen Nyx clapped, slow, mocking.
“How *touching*,” she said. “The wolf king, sacrificing himself for the hybrid. How noble. How *foolish*.”
Tide stood. Turned. “You lose,” she said. “You wanted to bind me. You wanted to control me. But you failed.”
“Did I?” Nyx smiled. “Or did I just reveal the truth?”
“What truth?”
“That he loves you,” Nyx said. “And that love is the most dangerous weakness of all.”
The air between us shattered.
And I knew—
She was right.
Because I did love her.
And I would burn the world down before I let her be taken from me.