The city was holding its breath, but I was done waiting.
Dawn had bled into morning, and with it, the veil above the Midnight Accord shimmered with an unnatural golden hue—Summer’s mark, delicate and poisonous, like silk over a blade. The Prince of Summer was coming. That much was certain. But what he didn’t know—what none of them truly understood—was that we weren’t just standing together. We were building something new. And if he thought he could tear it down with illusions and oaths, he’d already lost.
I stood at the edge of the balcony, barefoot on the cold stone, the mating mark on my neck pulsing with quiet fire. Kaelen was behind me, his presence a storm no one could ignore, his arms wrapped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. The scent of old magic clung to the air, thick and electric, like the world was bracing for impact. But I wasn’t afraid.
I was ready.
“They’ll come through the eastern gate,” Kaelen murmured, his voice rough against my ear. “The veil is weakest there. Easiest to breach without triggering the wards.”
“Then we’ll be waiting,” I said, turning in his arms. My fingers brushed the scar above his heart—the one from a battle centuries ago, the one that still ached when I was near. “But we’re not just defending. We’re expanding.”
He stilled. “What are you thinking?”
“The Lunar Pact,” I said. “They’ve stood with us. They’ve placed their hand on the Eclipse throne. But they haven’t been formally recognized in the new Council. Not as equals. Not as allies.” I pressed my palm to the Black Sigil beneath my ribs, feeling its steady pulse. “If we’re going to face the Summer Court, we need more than defiance. We need unity. Real unity.”
Kaelen studied me—those molten gold eyes searching, testing—then nodded. “The Moonborn Alpha won’t come easily. He respects strength. Loyalty. Not politics.”
“Then we won’t offer him politics,” I said, stepping back. “We’ll offer him truth.”
—
I didn’t go to the Council Hall.
Not yet.
Instead, I went to the eastern tunnels—the old passageways beneath the city, carved from black stone and lit with flickering torches. The Lunar Pact had claimed this section centuries ago, a neutral zone where werewolves could shift without fear of exposure. The air was thick with the scent of fur and iron, of earth and storm. The walls were etched with ancient runes, glowing faintly with lunar magic. And at the end of the corridor—
The Alpha’s den.
I didn’t knock. Didn’t announce myself. I just walked in, my boots clicking once, twice, three times on the stone. The chamber was vast—circular, with a domed ceiling, the floor covered in thick furs, the walls lined with weapons. At the center, a fire burned low, its embers pulsing with silver light.
And there he was.
The Moonborn Alpha.
He stood with his back to me, tall and broad, his fur-lined cloak shifting as he turned. His eyes—amber, sharp, ancient—locked onto mine. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just studied me, like I was a puzzle he hadn’t solved yet.
“You’re not welcome here,” he said, voice deep, rough.
“Then I’ll leave,” I said, turning as if to go. “But the Summer Court is coming. They’ll demand my hand in marriage. They’ll try to divide us. And when they do, they’ll come for your people next. Because unity terrifies them. And you know what they do to those who stand in their way.”
He didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, his boots heavy on the stone. “And what do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” I said, turning back. “I’m not here to bargain. I’m not here to plead. I’m here to tell you the truth.” I pressed a hand to the mating mark. “This isn’t a claim. It’s a choice. And the choice I made wasn’t just about Kaelen. It was about balance. About justice. About every hybrid, every half-blood, every one of us who’s been told they don’t belong.”
He studied me—those amber eyes searching, testing—then gestured to the fire. “Sit.”
I did.
And I told him everything.
Not just about the Summer Court. Not just about the Prince’s demand. But about Cassian. About my mother. About the night she died protecting the bond. About Kaelen’s innocence. About the truth the Council had finally seen. And about the Accord of Three Moons—the treaty that had been buried, that we had resurrected.
And when I was done—
He didn’t speak.
Just reached for a silver chalice, poured dark liquid from a clay jug, and handed it to me. Blood wine. A werewolf’s offering.
I took it. Drank.
The warmth spread through me, not just in my chest, but in my bones, in my magic. The Black Sigil pulsed. The mating mark flared.
And then—
He spoke.
“The Lunar Pact has lived in the shadows for too long,” he said, voice low. “We’ve been called beasts. Outcasts. Weak. But we are not weak. We are not outcasts. We are the guardians of the moon. The keepers of the wild. And we will not bow to Summer’s lies.” He stood, his cloak shifting, his presence towering. “So say it. What do you want?”
“An alliance,” I said, standing. “Not as ruler to subject. Not as queen to warrior. But as equals. As guardians of the balance.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just walked to the wall, pulled down a blade—long, curved, etched with lunar runes—and pressed it into my hand.
“This belonged to my mother,” he said. “She died protecting a witch who dared to speak the truth. A woman like you.” He stepped back. “If you want our alliance, you’ll have to earn it.”
“How?” I asked.
“You’ll fight,” he said. “Not to the death. Not for blood. But for honor. For truth. For the right to stand beside us.”
I didn’t hesitate. Just nodded. “Then let it be done.”
—
The challenge was set for dusk.
Not in the Council Hall. Not in the throne room. But in the old arena beneath the city—a circular pit carved from black stone, the walls lined with torches, the air thick with the scent of earth and magic. Word spread fast. By sunset, the stands were filled—vampires in velvet, witches in ink-stained linen, fae in illusion-woven silk. Even the Summer Court envoy was there, her gown shimmering with false light, her eyes sharp with something like anticipation.
But I didn’t care.
Because this wasn’t for them.
It was for *us*.
I stood at the edge of the pit, barefoot on the cold stone, the lunar blade in my hand, the mating mark glowing beneath my collar. Kaelen was in the stands, his presence a storm no one could ignore, his molten gold eyes locked onto mine. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched—those sharp, observant eyes searching, testing.
And then—
The Alpha descended.
Not in human form. Not in full shift.
But in between—tall, broad, his face half-wolf, his eyes blazing amber, his claws glinting in the torchlight. He wore no armor. Just a leather harness, his fangs bared, his breath a low growl.
And he didn’t speak.
Just raised his blade.
I did the same.
And then—
We moved.
Not fast. Not reckless.
But with *purpose*.
He lunged first—fast, silent, deadly. I dodged, spun, brought the blade up in a sweeping arc. He blocked, the metal clashing with a sharp *ring*, sparks flying. The crowd roared. The torchlight flickered. And then—
He was on me.
Claws raking, fangs snapping, his body a wall of muscle and fury. I rolled, twisted, drove my elbow into his ribs. He grunted, stumbled—but didn’t fall. Just swung again, the blade flashing toward my throat. I ducked, stepped inside his guard, and slammed my palm into his chest.
Not with force.
With *magic*.
The Black Sigil flared—indigo light surging from my palm, sending him staggering back. The crowd gasped. The Alpha snarled, his eyes blazing—but then, slowly, he smiled.
Not in victory.
In *respect*.
And then—
He charged.
Not to kill.
But to *test*.
I met him head-on, our blades clashing, our bodies colliding, the bond singing between us, feeding on the fight, on the truth, on the sheer *need* to prove ourselves. He was stronger. Faster. But I was sharper. Smarter. And when he finally disarmed me—knocking the blade from my hand with a clean strike—I didn’t go for it.
I went for *him*.
I lunged, tackled him, pinned him to the stone. My hands fisted in his fur, my fangs grazing his throat—just a whisper of pressure, a promise of what was to come. The crowd fell silent. The torchlight stilled. And then—
He laughed.
Low. Deep. Mine.
And he didn’t throw me off.
Just reached up, pressed a clawed hand to my cheek, and said—
“You’ve earned it.”
—
We stood together at the center of the pit, bloodied but unbroken, the lunar blade in my hand, the mating mark glowing like a brand. The Alpha raised his arm, and the crowd erupted—not in cheers, not in shouts, but in a single, unified howl that echoed through the chamber, through the city, through the veil.
And then—
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
“The Lunar Pact stands with you,” he said, voice deep, rough. “Not because of magic. Not because of fate. But because you are true.”
And one by one, the werewolves in the stands rose.
Not in submission.
Not in fear.
But in acknowledgment.
They didn’t kneel.
Didn’t swear oaths.
They just placed a hand over their hearts.
And let the magic speak.
—
We returned to the residence in silence.
No torches. No servants. No sound. Just the low hum of the wards and the distant echo of the city beyond the veil. Kaelen was waiting at the door, his cloak gone, his tunic open at the throat, his fangs just visible when he turned his head. He didn’t speak. Just stepped forward, pressed a kiss to my temple, and laced his fingers with mine.
The bond didn’t flare.
It sang.
Inside, Mira was waiting—her hand glowing faintly with the crescent moon sigil, her eyes bright with something I couldn’t name. She didn’t say anything. Just handed me a letter.
Not on the desk. Not in the drawer.
But tucked beneath the pillow, the paper thin, the ink smudged. No name. No seal. Just a single line:
The Prince of Summer has crossed the veil.
I didn’t speak. Just handed it to Kaelen.
He read it once. Then again. Then set it down on the nightstand.
“Then let him come,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “We’ve faced worse.”
And as I fell asleep in his embrace, the mating mark glowing like a brand, the Black Sigil pulsing beneath my ribs, I knew—
This wasn’t just about vengeance.
Or politics.
Or the bond.
This was about us.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to destroy them.
I wanted to build with them.
And I would.
No matter the cost.
—
Later, in the quiet of our chambers, I found the final letter.
Not on the desk. Not in the drawer.
But tucked beneath the pillow, the paper thin, the ink smudged. No name. No seal. Just a single line:
The Winter Court is moving.
I didn’t speak. Just handed it to Kaelen.
He read it once. Then again. Then set it down on the nightstand.
“Then let them move,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “We’ve faced worse.”
And as I fell asleep in his embrace, the mating mark glowing like a brand, the Black Sigil pulsing beneath my ribs, I knew—
This wasn’t the end.
It was just the beginning.
And I would not be silenced.
Not again.
Not ever.