I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m sitting beside him, my fingers laced through his, my pulse syncing with his like we’ve always belonged like this.
The fortress is quiet. The banquet hall silenced. The poison—fae venom, Thorne said, from the High Court—has burned through his veins and mine, purified by blood, by bond, by something deeper than magic. He sleeps. Not the restless, guarded doze of a king always on edge, but something softer. Something real. His chest rises and falls with steady breath, his gold eyes hidden beneath heavy lids, his fangs just barely visible beneath parted lips. The mating mark on his chest pulses faintly—golden, warm, alive—and I press my palm to it, feeling the rhythm beneath my skin.
He’s not dead.
He’s not dying.
He’s here.
And for the first time since I arrived at the Iron Court, I don’t feel like a weapon.
I feel like a woman.
A woman who loves a monster.
A woman who saved him.
A woman who doesn’t want to be anyone else.
The fire in the hearth crackles, casting long, shifting shadows across the stone walls. The scent of pine and iron—him—clings to the air, to the sheets, to my skin. I should be on guard. Should be watching the door, listening for footsteps, preparing for the next attack. The High Court tried to kill me. Seraphine offered Kael a trap. Thorne drank my blood and called me a storm.
And yet—
I’m not afraid.
Not of them.
Not of what comes next.
Because I finally understand.
I’m not here to destroy him.
I’m here to protect him.
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—faint, steady, claimed. Not just by the bond. Not just by last night. But by the truth: I am his. And he is mine. And I don’t want to win this war.
I want to belong.
A soft knock breaks the silence.
Not at the door.
At the window.
I freeze.
Another knock—soft, deliberate.
I rise slowly, pulling the sheet tighter around me, my bare feet silent on the cold stone. I move to the shutters, pull them open.
Lyra.
She stands on the ledge, her dark hair braided with silver thread, her green eyes sharp. Moonlight cuts across her face, turning her pale skin to silver. She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak. Just holds out a small vial—dark liquid swirling inside.
“Fae venom,” she says, voice low. “Antidote. Just in case.”
I take it, my fingers brushing hers. “You knew.”
“I suspected,” she says. “The High Court has been watching you since you arrived. They didn’t want the treaty to pass. They didn’t want you to find the truth.”
“So they tried to kill me.”
“And him,” she says. “They know he’s the only one who can stop them. That if he dies, the werewolves fracture. The vampires rise. And the Fae reclaim their power.”
I look back at Kael—still sleeping, still breathing, still alive. “They underestimated us.”
She smiles—small, sad. “Or they overestimated their own righteousness.”
“Why are you helping me?” I ask. “You’re Fae. You serve the High Court.”
“I serve the truth,” she says. “And you’re it.”
She turns to go.
“Lyra,” I say.
She stops.
“Thank you.”
She doesn’t look back. “Don’t thank me yet. The real war hasn’t started.”
Then she’s gone, vanishing into the night.
I close the shutters, set the vial on the nightstand. I don’t need it. Not anymore. The bond healed us. Our blood healed us. Love healed us.
But I keep it.
Just in case.
I return to the bed, slide beneath the sheets, press my body to his. His arm drapes over my waist, pulling me closer, his breath warm against my neck. I press my palm to his chest, feeling the mark pulse beneath my skin. The runes tattooed there twist like serpents, glowing faintly in the dark.
And for the first time, I don’t feel like an intruder.
I feel like I’m home.
—
He wakes at dawn.
His eyes open slowly, gold meeting gold. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just looks at me—really looks—like he’s seeing me for the first time. Not as an enemy. Not as a weapon. Not as the daughter of the woman he let die.
But as mine.
“You’re still here,” he says, voice rough with sleep.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
He lifts a hand, brushes a strand of hair from my face. His fingers are warm. Steady. No tremor. No fever. Just strength. Just him.
“You saved me,” he says.
“You saved me first,” I whisper. “You took the poison. You drank my blood. You fought for me.”
“Because you’re mine,” he says. “And I’m yours. And no one—no one—takes what’s ours.”
I don’t answer.
Just press my palm to his chest, feeling the mark pulse beneath my skin. The bond hums between us—soft, steady, real.
“They’ll come for us,” he says. “The High Court. Seraphine. Thorne. They won’t stop.”
“Then we’ll stop them,” I say. “Together.”
He studies me. “You don’t have to do this. You could leave. Start over. Be free.”
“I am free,” I say. “Because I’m not running anymore. I’m not hiding. I’m not pretending I don’t love you.”
He stills.
His breath catches.
And then—
He pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. “Say it again,” he murmurs.
“I love you,” I say, my voice breaking. “And I’m not afraid anymore.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just holds me.
And for the first time, I believe—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy them.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just belong.
—
We don’t go to the Council session.
Not today.
Instead, we stay in the chambers—quiet, still, wrapped in each other. He bathes me in the basin, his hands gentle, his touch deliberate. He washes my hair, his fingers threading through the dark strands, his breath warm against my neck. I don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. Just lean into him, my body arching into his touch, my breath hitching as his thumb brushes the mating mark on my shoulder.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I say.
He dries me with a soft cloth, his hands gliding over my skin, his gaze burning. Then he pulls me into his chest, wraps me in a heavy robe, and carries me to the hearth. We sit together on the stone floor, the fire crackling beside us, his arm around my waist, my head on his shoulder.
“Tell me about her,” I say. “My mother.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“She was brave,” he says. “Fiercer than any warrior I’ve ever known. She refused to bow. Refused to lie. Refused to let the High Court sell our people to the vampires.”
“And the temple?”
“Burned to hide the truth,” he says. “To make it look like a werewolf purge. To stop the war.”
“And me?”
“I watched you,” he says. “After she died. After I lit the pyre. I saw you in the shadows. Saw the hate in your eyes. And I let you go. Because I knew—someday, you’d come for me. And when you did—” He turns, his gold eyes locking onto mine. “—I’d be ready.”
“You let me believe you were the monster,” I say.
“Because the truth would have gotten you killed,” he says. “And I couldn’t lose you. Not then. Not now. Not ever.”
Tears spill down my face. I don’t wipe them away. “I came here to destroy you.”
“And now?”
“Now I think I love you,” I whisper. “And I don’t know how to stop.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my lips. “Then don’t.”
And I don’t.
—
The fortress begins to stir.
Guards change shifts. Envoys whisper in the corridors. The Council sends word—urgent. The final signing of the Blood Moon Treaty has been moved to tonight. The High Elder claims it’s for security. For unity. For peace.
But I know the truth.
They’re afraid.
Afraid of us.
Afraid of what we’ve become.
Kael reads the message, then tosses it into the fire. “They think they can rush it,” he says. “Think they can force our hand.”
“Let them,” I say. “We’ll be ready.”
He turns to me. “You don’t have to stand with me. Not like this. Not in front of them all.”
“I want to,” I say. “I’m not hiding anymore. I’m not pretending I don’t belong with you.”
He studies me. Then, slowly, he reaches into the chest at the foot of the bed. Pulls out a gown.
Not gray.
Not midnight blue.
Gold.
Rich, shimmering, threaded with werewolf sigils and fae runes. The neckline plunges. The hem splits to the thigh. It’s a queen’s gown. A warrior’s gown. Mine.
“Wear it,” he says.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” I say.
“I’m not proving anything,” he says. “I’m claiming what’s mine.”
I take it.
He helps me dress—his hands gentle, his touch deliberate. He fastens the clasps at my back, his fingers brushing my skin, his breath warm against my neck. Then he turns me, his gold eyes burning.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. “And you’re mine.”
“And you’re mine,” I say.
He smiles—slow, dark, utterly triumphant.
Then he leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Let’s go show them.”
—
The Great Hall is packed.
Alphas, Betas, envoys from the vampire and fae courts. The air is thick with tension, with the low hum of whispered alliances. Torches line the walls, their flames flickering with unnatural blue at the edges. The scent of iron and incense fills the space, mingling with something deeper—power.
Kael takes his place at the center. I stand beside him, close enough that our arms brush, far enough that I don’t have to look at him.
But I feel him.
His heat. His scent. The bond, pulsing between us like a second heartbeat.
The High Elder steps forward, staff raised. “The Blood Moon Treaty nears completion,” he announces. “The final signing will bind us in peace. In unity. In—”
“Lies,” I say.
The hall falls silent.
Every eye turns to me.
Kael doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches me—gold eyes burning, possessive, knowing.
“The treaty isn’t about peace,” I say, my voice steady. “It’s about power. About control. About who gets to rule.”
“You dare—” the Elder begins.
“I do,” I say. “Because I’ve seen the truth. I know who tried to kill me. Who poisoned Kael. Who wants this treaty to fail.”
Gasps ripple through the chamber.
“The High Court,” I say. “They fear change. Fear unity. Fear a queen who won’t bow.”
“Silence!” the Elder roars.
But I don’t.
“You killed my mother,” I say, stepping forward. “You framed her. You burned her temple. You made Kael the monster so you could stay in power.”
“Lies!”
“Truth,” I say. “And I won’t let you hide behind lies anymore.”
I raise my hand.
The mating mark on my shoulder pulses—golden, fierce, alive.
And then—
The runes on the floor ignite.
Golden light erupts across the hall, the sigils flaring, the magic crackling. The crowd roars. The torches blaze. The High Elder stumbles back.
“The bond is confirmed!” he shouts. “The mate-mark is sealed!”
“And so is the truth,” I say, stepping back to Kael’s side. “We stand together. We rule together. And if you come for us—” I lift my chin, my gold eyes burning. “—you’ll burn with us.”
Kael takes my hand, laces his fingers through mine. “You’re mine,” he says, voice low, dangerous. “And I’m yours. And no one—no one—takes what’s ours.”
The hall is silent.
And for the first time—
I don’t feel like a weapon.
I feel like a queen.
I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now—
I think I love him.
And worse—
I don’t want to be anyone else.
Because I don’t want to be free.
Because I don’t want to be anything but his.