I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m standing in the war room of the Iron Court, my bare feet on cold stone, the scent of iron and pine thick in the air. The vaulted ceiling arches above us, carved with ancient runes that pulse faintly with power. Torchlight flickers along the walls, casting long, jagged shadows across the floor. The air is thick—not with magic, not with war, not even with the lingering stench of the curse we just destroyed.
It’s thick with betrayal.
Kael sits at the head of the obsidian table, his presence a storm, his gold eyes burning. But they’re not fixed on the maps. Not on the troop placements. Not even on me.
They’re fixed on the woman standing in the doorway.
Seraphine.
The Blood Queen.
Vampire. Liar. Rival.
And now—she’s here.
She steps inside like she owns the fortress, her hips swaying, her crimson gown hugging every curve, her silver hair cascading over one shoulder like moonlight on blood. Her fangs are bared in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes—cold, calculating, hungry. She doesn’t bow. Doesn’t kneel. Doesn’t even look at me.
Just walks straight to Kael.
“My king,” she purrs, her voice like velvet over steel. “I’ve come to offer you peace.”
Kael doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches her—gold eyes burning, fangs just visible, his claws retracted but ready. His hand tightens around the arm of his chair. I see it. The flicker in his jaw. The tension in his throat.
He’s not unaffected.
And that terrifies me.
“You don’t get to call me that,” he growls. “You lost that right when you lied about bearing my child. When you forged a mating mark. When you tried to break what you could never have.”
She laughs—soft, low, dangerous. “I didn’t lie, Kael. I never said I carried your heir. I never claimed the throne. I only said you spent the night in my chambers. That you bit me. That you craved me.”
My breath catches.
Because I remember.
The first time I saw her—half-dressed in his shirt, her neck marked, her eyes triumphant. The way my blood boiled. The way the bond screamed. The way I wanted to rip her apart with my bare hands.
And now—
She’s standing here. Smiling. Like she’s won.
“Did he?” I ask, stepping forward, my voice cold, sharp. “Did you bite her?”
Kael turns to me—gold eyes burning. “No.”
“But you wanted to,” Seraphine says, tilting her head. “That night. After the treaty. You were furious. Grieving. Alone. You came to me. You let me feed from you. You let me touch you. You let me—”
“Enough,” Kael snarls, slamming his fist on the table. The stone cracks. The torches flicker. “I let you feed because I needed information. I let you touch me because I was testing you. And I didn’t bite you—because I was already claimed.”
He looks at me.
And in that look—
I see the truth.
He didn’t want her.
He never did.
But he used her.
And that—
That cuts deeper than any lie.
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed. But beneath it, something else stirs. Not the curse. Not the bond.
Jealousy.
Not because I think he loved her.
But because he let her believe it.
Because he let her use it against me.
Because he let her hurt me.
“You’re not here for peace,” I say, stepping between them. “You’re here to divide us. To weaken us. To make us doubt each other.”
She smiles—slow, cruel. “And if I am? What will you do, little witch? Kill me? You can’t. You’re bound by the Supernatural Council’s truce. And even if you weren’t—” Her gaze flicks to Kael. “—he wouldn’t let you.”
“You don’t know what he’ll do,” I say, lifting my chin. “You don’t know him at all.”
“Don’t I?” she asks, stepping closer. “I know he’s cursed. I know he’s dying. I know the First King’s bloodline is rotting from within. And I know—” She leans in, her voice a whisper. “—that you’re the only thing keeping him alive.”
My breath stops.
Because she’s right.
After the curse broke, Kael collapsed. Not from pain. Not from exhaustion.
From loss.
The thing in the sarcophagus wasn’t just a prison.
It was a power source.
And now that it’s gone—
So is his strength.
His magic. His immortality. His control.
He’s fading.
And I’m the only one who can save him.
“You want something,” I say, stepping back. “So say it. Before I decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
She laughs—soft, low. “I want what I’ve always wanted. Power. Influence. A seat at the table.”
“And what do you have to offer?” Kael asks, his voice rough.
“Information,” she says. “About Thorne. About the Fae High Court. About the true traitor who framed your mother.”
I freeze.
Because we still don’t know.
Who gave the order.
Who wanted her dead.
Who used Kael as a pawn.
“You’re lying,” I say. “You don’t know anything.”
“Don’t I?” she asks, reaching into the folds of her gown. She pulls out a scroll—aged, sealed with black wax, etched with a sigil I’ve never seen before. “This was hidden in Thorne’s private vault. A letter. From the Fae High Court. Signed by all three Elders.”
My blood turns to ice.
Because I recognize the seal.
It’s real.
“It says they ordered her execution,” Seraphine continues. “Not because she betrayed them. But because she refused to hand over the Blood Moon Key—the artifact that controls the treaty’s magic. She chose her daughter over power. And they couldn’t allow that.”
I press my palm to the mating mark on my chest. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“And Kael?” I ask. “Why did they make him do it?”
“Because he was the only one strong enough to kill her,” she says. “And the only one they could control. They threatened to destroy the Iron Court if he refused. So he lit the pyre. Not because he wanted to. But because he had to.”
Tears spill down my face.
Because it’s true.
Everything I believed—my entire mission—was built on a lie.
Kael didn’t kill my mother.
The Fae did.
And he—
He saved me.
By taking the blame.
I turn to him—gold eyes burning, fangs just visible in the torchlight. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper.
“Would you have believed me?” he asks, his voice rough. “You came here to kill me. You hated me. You would’ve thought it was another lie. Another trick.”
And he’s right.
I would’ve.
I would’ve fought him. Distrusted him. Destroyed us.
“And now?” I ask.
“Now,” he says, standing, his presence a storm, “we burn them.”
Seraphine smiles—slow, satisfied. “Then let me help you.”
“No,” I say, stepping forward. “You don’t get to play both sides. You don’t get to profit from our pain. You don’t get to walk away unscathed.”
“And what will you do?” she asks, tilting her head. “Kill me? Exile me? You need me, Morgana. You need my information. My spies. My influence.”
“We don’t need you,” I say. “We have each other. We have the coven. We have the truth. And that’s more than enough.”
She studies me—cold eyes calculating. Then, slowly, she nods. “Then take the scroll. Read it. Believe it. And when you’re ready to strike—” She steps back, her gown swirling. “—you’ll know where to find me.”
And then—
She’s gone.
Not with a whisper.
Not with a flicker.
With a smile.
And I know—
This isn’t over.
Kael steps beside me, his heat searing through the cold. “You believe her?” he asks.
“I believe the scroll,” I say, holding it out. “It’s real. The sigil. The ink. The magic. It’s all authentic.”
He takes it, his claws careful, his gold eyes scanning the text. And then—
He closes his eyes.
“I should’ve told you,” he says, voice rough. “I should’ve found a way.”
“You did what you had to,” I say, pressing my palm to his chest, over the mating mark. “Just like my mother did. Just like we do. Every day.”
He stills.
Lifts his head.
Looks at me—gold eyes burning. “Say it again,” he says. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper, lifting my chin. “Only yours. Always yours. Not because of the bond. Not because of duty. But because I want to be.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. “You’re not just my mate,” he murmurs. “You’re my queen.”
“And you’re mine,” I say. “And if they come again—” I lift my head, gold eyes burning. “—we’ll burn them together.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me.
Not violent.
Not desperate.
Gentle.
Sweet.
Real.
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 war room, 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.