I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m lying in the ruins of the temple, my bare skin pressed to cold stone, my body wrapped in Kael’s coat, his heat searing through the fabric. The dawn bleeds through the shattered arches—pale gold, fragile, real. Not the false crimson of vampire magic. Not the storm-light of battle.
Just morning.
And I’m alive.
More than alive.
I’m whole.
The bond hums beneath my skin, not as a demand, not as a fever, not as a curse—but as a song. Soft. Steady. Ours. No longer a chain. No longer a weapon. Just… truth.
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder.
It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
But not taken.
Given.
I turn my head. Kael lies beside me, still in half-shift—golden eyes closed, fangs just visible, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. His arm is slung over my waist, possessive even in sleep, his claws retracted but ready. He’s not guarding me.
He’s holding me.
And I don’t pull away.
I press my palm to his chest, over his mating mark. It pulses in time with mine—golden, steady, alive. The runes on our skin no longer flare with magic. They glow faintly, like embers after a fire. Like something that will never go out.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.
“You’re breathing,” I say. “I’m allowed to enjoy it.”
He opens one gold eye, slits it at me. “You nearly didn’t get to.”
“And you?” I ask. “You were the one who took a blade for me. Who let the Fae curse you. Who nearly died in the arena.”
He finally opens both eyes, turns to me. “And you healed me. You fought for me. You chose me.”
“I didn’t choose you,” I say, lifting my chin. “I chose us.”
He doesn’t smile.
Just presses his forehead to mine, his breath hot against my lips. “Then let me love you,” he murmurs. “Every morning. Every night. Every life. Every death.”
My breath catches.
Because it’s not a threat.
Not a demand.
It’s a vow.
And I believe him.
I kiss him—soft, slow, real. Not violent. Not desperate. Not a claim.
A promise.
And when I pull back, he doesn’t let go. Just rolls me beneath him, his weight warm, solid, safe. His hands frame my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks, his gold eyes burning into mine.
“You’re not just my mate,” he says. “You’re my queen.”
“And you’re mine,” I say. “Not because of a bond. Not because of a mark. But because I want you. Because I choose you. Because I love you.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me again—slow, deep, real—as the sun rises, as the wind whispers through the ruins, as the temple hums with power.
And then—
Footsteps.
Heavy. Fast. armed.
I break the kiss slowly, my breath ragged, my fangs bared. I don’t turn. Don’t release him. Just hold him tighter, my body a wall between him and the threat.
“Morgana,” a voice calls. Cold. Regal. Familiar.
My blood turns to ice.
I know that voice.
Elder Veylin.
One of the three Fae High Elders. The man who stood beside my mother as she was executed. The one who declared her a traitor. The one who helped burn our temple to ash.
And now he’s here.
At my door.
Again.
Kael growls, low and rough, his body coiling. “You don’t have to answer,” he says.
“I do,” I say, stepping forward. “They’ll come for me. They’ll come for you. And if I don’t go—” I press my palm to the mating mark on my shoulder. “—they’ll use it against us.”
He doesn’t argue.
Just steps beside me, his presence a storm, his gold eyes burning.
I open my eyes.
Elder Veylin stands at the edge of the temple, tall and pale, his silver robes edged with black runes, his staff raised. Behind him, two Fae guards flank the corridor, their eyes cold, their hands on their blades.
“Daughter of the High Priestess,” he says, voice echoing in the stone hall. “You are summoned before the Fae High Court. Come.”
“I’m not your daughter,” I say, stepping forward. “Not anymore.”
He doesn’t flinch.
Just turns and walks.
I follow.
Kael at my side.
The corridors are silent. The torches flicker with unnatural blue at the edges. The scent of iron and pine fades, replaced by something older—moonflowers, frost, the cold magic of the Fae. We ascend through the fortress, through hidden passages, through veils of glamour that shimmer like mist. And then—
We step into the Fae Enclave.
Ice-carved walls. Silver vines. Floating orbs of soft light. The air is thick with ancient power, with the weight of oaths, with the memory of betrayal. The High Court chamber is circular, the floor etched with runes that pulse faintly with magic. Three thrones rise at the center—onyx, carved with fae script, glowing with cold fire.
The other two Elders are already seated.
Elder Solen—her hair like spun moonlight, her eyes sharp as glass. And Elder Nyx—his face half-hidden in shadow, his voice like smoke.
They don’t rise.
Don’t greet me.
Just watch.
“Morgana,” Elder Veylin says, taking his seat. “Daughter of the traitor. Heir to nothing. You stand before the Fae High Court.”
“I don’t,” I say. “I stand before the men who murdered my mother. Who framed her. Who burned our temple to hide their lies.”
“Silence,” Elder Solen snaps. “You speak to your betters.”
“I speak to my enemies,” I say. “And I don’t kneel to murderers.”
Elder Nyx leans forward, his voice low, dangerous. “You have no right to challenge us. You are half-blood. Half-witch. An abomination.”
“And yet,” I say, lifting my chin, “I’m the only one who survived. The only one who remembers. The only one who knows the truth.”
“The truth?” Elder Veylin laughs. “That you’ve been claimed by a wolf? That you’ve let him mark you? That you’ve forsaken your blood, your magic, your duty?”
“I haven’t forsaken anything,” I say. “I’ve embraced it. I’m not just Fae. I’m not just witch. I’m both. And I’m stronger for it.”
“You are weak,” Elder Solen says. “Tainted by the wolf’s bond. Corrupted by his touch. And now, you threaten the balance.”
“The balance?” I say. “You mean your control. Your power. Your lies.”
“Enough,” Elder Nyx says, standing. “You have one choice. One path. Return to us. Renounce the wolf. Break the bond. And we will spare you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you are declared traitor,” he says. “And you will be branded. Hunted. Killed.”
“And Kael?”
“He will die,” Elder Veylin says. “And the Iron Court will burn.”
I don’t flinch.
Just press my palm to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“You don’t get to choose for me,” I say. “Not anymore. I’m not your weapon. I’m not your pawn. I’m not your daughter. I’m a queen. And I rule beside the man I love.”
“You love a monster,” Elder Solen hisses.
“And you serve cowards,” I say. “Who let my mother die to protect their secrets. Who let Kael take the blame so they wouldn’t have to.”
“Silence!” Elder Nyx roars. “You will obey. Or you will die.”
“Then kill me,” I say, stepping forward. “But know this—” I raise my hand, the mating mark glowing. “—if you harm me, the bond will destroy you. If you harm him, I will burn your court to ash. And if you try to take what’s mine—” I lift my chin, gold eyes burning. “—I will make you regret the day you ever touched my mother’s blood.”
The runes on the floor ignite—golden light erupting across the chamber, the air crackling with magic. The torches blaze. The Elders stumble back.
“The bond is confirmed!” Elder Solen shouts. “The mate-mark is sealed!”
“And so is my choice,” I say. “I am not yours. I am his. And I will never bow to you again.”
“Then you are condemned,” Elder Nyx says, voice cold. “Leave this place. And know—” He steps forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “—we will not forget. We will not forgive. And we will not stop.”
“Neither will I,” I say. “And next time, I won’t warn you.”
I turn and walk away.
Kael at my side.
The corridors blur. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps. My hands tremble. My vision blurs. I don’t stop. Don’t slow. Just keep moving, my bare feet silent on the stone, my heart pounding, my pulse racing.
And then—
I see it.
Not in front of me.
Not in the stone.
In the air.
A whisper.
From the wind.
From the magic.
From the bond.
“She’s coming.”
I stop.
Kael tenses. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But they’re not afraid. And they’re not alone.”
He doesn’t speak.
Just steps in front of me, his body a wall of heat, his fangs bared, his claws extended.
And then—
From the mist, a figure emerges.
Tall. Pale. Dressed in black silk, her hair like spun silver, her eyes burning with ancient fire.
Elder Solen.
One of the three Fae High Elders.
The woman who declared my mother a traitor.
The one who helped burn our temple to ash.
And now she’s here.
At my door.
Again.
“Morgana,” she says, voice echoing in the stone. “Daughter of the High Priestess. You stand before the Fae High Court.”
“I don’t,” I say, stepping forward, my dagger in hand, my back straight. “I stand before the woman who murdered my mother. Who framed her. Who burned our temple to hide their lies.”
“Silence,” she snaps. “You speak to your betters.”
“I speak to my enemies,” I say. “And I don’t kneel to murderers.”
She doesn’t flinch.
Just raises her hand.
And behind her—
Dozens of fae emerge from the mist.
Armed. Armored. ready.
“You have one choice,” she says. “Return to us. Renounce the wolf. Break the bond. And we will spare you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you are declared traitor,” she says. “And you will be branded. Hunted. Killed.”
“And Kael?”
“He will die,” she says. “And the Iron Court will burn.”
I don’t flinch.
Just press my palm to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“You don’t get to choose for me,” I say. “Not anymore. I’m not your weapon. I’m not your pawn. I’m not your daughter. I’m a queen. And I rule beside the man I love.”
“You love a monster,” she hisses.
“And you serve cowards,” I say. “Who let my mother die to protect their secrets. Who let Kael take the blame so they wouldn’t have to.”
“Silence!” she roars. “You will obey. Or you will die.”
“Then kill me,” I say, stepping forward. “But know this—” I raise my hand, the mating mark glowing. “—if you harm me, the bond will destroy you. If you harm him, I will burn your court to ash. And if you try to take what’s mine—” I lift my chin, gold eyes burning. “—I will make you regret the day you ever touched my mother’s blood.”
The runes on the ground ignite—golden light erupting across the ravine, the air crackling with magic. The torches blaze. The fae stumble back.
“The bond is confirmed!” one of them shouts. “The mate-mark is sealed!”
“And so is my choice,” I say. “I am not yours. I am his. And I will never bow to you again.”
She doesn’t answer.
Just turns and vanishes—cloak dissolving into mist, footsteps fading into silence.
And then—
Silence.
Just the wind. The stone. The bond.
Kael turns to me, his gold eyes burning. “They’ll come back,” he says.
“Let them,” I say. “Because if they do—” I press my palm to the mating mark on his chest. “—we’ll burn them together.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
And I know—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy them.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just belong.
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.