Kael didn’t scream when the blade pierced his side.
He didn’t even flinch.
He just went still—like a predator locking onto prey—his golden eyes narrowing, his breath halting mid-draw. I saw it happen in slow motion: the rogue werewolf lunging from the shadowed treeline, fangs bared, claws outstretched, a curved dagger of blackened iron in his grip. I shouted. I moved. But I wasn’t fast enough.
The blade slid between his ribs with a sickening whisper.
And then—
He killed him.
One twist. One snarl. One brutal snap of the spine. The rogue dropped like a sack of bones, his eyes wide, his mouth frozen in a silent howl. But Kael didn’t let go. He stood there, swaying slightly, one hand pressed to the wound, blood seeping through his fingers, dark and thick and *wrong*. Not the rich crimson of a clean cut. This was sluggish. Tainted.
“Kael,” I said, rushing to him. My voice cracked. “Let me see.”
He didn’t answer. Just shook his head, his jaw tight, his pupils already elongating. The wolf was rising—fighting to take over, to heal, to survive. But the blade had been laced with something. Silver, maybe. Or worse—void-tainted iron, forged in the Unseelie forges. It wouldn’t kill him. Not yet. But it would slow the shift. Suppress the regeneration. And if it reached his heart—
I didn’t let myself finish the thought.
“We need to get you back,” I said, slipping under his arm, taking his weight. He was solid, heavy, a wall of muscle and heat, but he leaned into me, his breath ragged against my neck. “Now.”
He didn’t argue. Just let me guide him, his boots dragging through the frost-laden earth, his breathing growing heavier with every step. The forest blurred around us, the trees leaning in like silent watchers, their branches clawing at the Blood Moon sky. The bond hummed beneath my skin—not with pain, not with denial, but with something deeper now. A resonance. A rhythm. Like a second heartbeat, shared, unbroken. And beneath it—
The child.
Its warmth pulsed—steady, calm, *aware*—as if it knew. As if it trusted.
“Stay with me,” I whispered, pressing my hand to his chest, feeling the uneven thud of his heart. “Don’t you dare shift. Don’t you dare pass out. *Stay with me*.”
He didn’t answer. Just tightened his grip on my shoulder, his fingers digging in, grounding. The wound was still bleeding, the fabric of his coat soaked through, the scent of iron sharp in the cold air. I could feel the poison working—his body temperature spiking, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his muscles trembling with the effort to hold back the shift.
We made it to the edge of the forest.
And then—
The Northern Pack envoys found us.
They came fast—six of them, wolves in half-shift, their coats dark, their eyes burning with loyalty. They didn’t ask questions. Just surrounded us, forming a protective circle, their growls low and steady as they guided us toward the Citadel. One of them, a young male with a scar across his cheek, took Kael’s other side, helping me carry him.
“He’s been poisoned,” I said, my voice tight. “Void-iron. We need the healing chamber. Now.”
The envoy nodded, his eyes flicking to Kael’s face. “He’s strong. He’ll hold.”
“He’d better,” I said, my voice breaking. “Because if he dies, I’ll burn the world to bring him back.”
The words hung in the air—raw, dangerous, *true*.
And then—
The Citadel loomed ahead.
Its stone spires rose like fangs against the crimson sky, torches flaring to life as we approached, their flames turning silver for a single, blinding second—*moonfire*, responding to the bond, to the truth, to *us*. The gates opened without a word, guards stepping aside, their heads bowed. We moved through the torch-lit corridors, the silence heavier than any words. My hand stayed low on my belly, my fingers pressed to that quiet warmth, that golden pulse. Kael walked beside me, his presence a wall, his silence heavier than any vow. He didn’t ask. Didn’t question. Just stayed. Watched. Waited.
And then—
We reached the healing chamber.
The doors were carved from blackthorn, etched with lunar sigils, their surfaces warm to the touch. I pushed them open, the scent of crushed herbs and old magic flooding the air—sage, yarrow, bloodroot. The room was circular, its walls lined with shelves of vials and dried roots, its center dominated by a low obsidian table, its surface polished to a mirror sheen. Moonfire sigils pulsed along the floor, not etched, but *alive*, their silver light breathing in time with the bond.
“Lay him down,” I said, my voice low. “Gently.”
The envoys obeyed, lowering Kael onto the table. He hissed as his back hit the stone, his fingers clenching into fists, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. I didn’t waste time. I cut away his coat, then his tunic, baring the wound—a deep, jagged cut just below his ribs, the edges already turning black, the blood thick and sluggish. I pressed my hand to it, and the moment my skin touched his, the bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not in fire, not in light, but in *recognition*. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I wasn’t just a witch.
I wasn’t just a queen.
I was *his*.
And he was mine.
“Get me yarrow, bloodroot, and moon-blessed water,” I said, not looking up. “And send for Maeve. Now.”
The envoys hesitated.
“*Now*,” I snapped, my voice cracking with command. “Or I’ll strip your ranks myself.”
They moved.
I didn’t watch them go. Just focused on Kael, on the wound, on the poison spreading like ink through his veins. I could feel it—the void-magic, cold and hungry, trying to claim him. But the bond fought back. The child fought back. And so would I.
I pressed my palm flat against the wound, not to stop the bleeding, but to *feel* it. To trace the path of the poison, to map its spread. My magic surged—not in anger, not in fear—but in *truth*. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but *revealing*. For a single, blinding second, the entire chamber was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The chamber stilled.
And I knew what I had to do.
“You’re not going to like this,” I said, my voice low. “But you’re going to live.”
He didn’t answer. Just stared at me, his golden eyes burning, his breath shallow. I didn’t wait. I took the yarrow and bloodroot the envoy brought, crushed them between my palms, and mixed them with the moon-blessed water. Then I poured it over the wound.
He roared.
Not in pain.
But in defiance.
The poison reacted instantly—his body convulsing, his muscles locking, his fangs baring. I pressed my hand harder, holding him down, my voice steady. “Fight it. *Fight it*.”
He did.
His hand shot up, gripping my wrist, his fingers tight, his eyes wild. But I didn’t pull away. Just leaned in, my face inches from his, my breath mingling with his. “You don’t get to die,” I said, my voice breaking. “Not after everything. Not after the forest. Not after the trial. Not after *us*.”
He didn’t speak.
Just held my gaze.
And then—
He nodded.
Slow. Deliberate.
Like a vow.
I didn’t let myself cry. Just kept working—pressing the herbs into the wound, chanting the old words, calling on the moonfire, on the bond, on the child. My magic surged—not to dominate, not to control, but to soothe. To heal. To claim.
And then—
Maeve arrived.
She stepped into the chamber like a shadow given form—her silver hair pulled back, her eyes sharp, her presence humming with ancient power. She didn’t speak. Just scanned the room, her gaze landing on Kael, then on me, then on the wound. And then—
She nodded.
“You’ve done well,” she said, her voice low. “But it’s not enough.”
“Then help me,” I said, not looking up. “Or get out.”
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, her hands moving with precision, adding crushed moonstone to the poultice, whispering words in the old tongue. Together, we worked—her magic weaving with mine, not in dominance, not in control, but in *harmony*. The bond flared—not in pain, not in fire—but in *need*.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
Hours passed.
The moon shifted. The torches burned low. The envoys came and went, bringing fresh herbs, clean cloths, silence. And through it all—
Kael held on.
His breathing steadied. The blackness around the wound began to recede. The poison, slow and stubborn, was being pushed back, cell by cell, breath by breath. And then—
He opened his eyes.
Not gold. Not wolf.
Human.
“You’re still here,” he said, his voice rough.
“Where else would I be?” I asked, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble.
He didn’t answer. Just reached for me—his hand warm, calloused, grounding. The bond flared—a deeper pulse, richer, stronger. My magic rose, not in fire, not in light, but in *recognition*. As if my power knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I wasn’t just a witch.
I wasn’t just a queen.
I was *his*.
And he was mine.
“You saved me,” he said, his voice breaking.
“No,” I said, pressing my hand to his chest, over his heart. “You saved yourself. I just… held on.”
He didn’t smile. Just pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something his. My breath trembled. My heart broke. My fingers found the buttons of his coat, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something sacred. Something ours.
“Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want us.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want everything.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me slow, deep, his hands tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in pulse. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but revealing.
For a single, blinding second, the entire room was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in us.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Then let it burn,” he whispered. “Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, stepping closer. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not in pain.
Not in fire.
But in need.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was us.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I just… let go.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just need.
And as the fire burned low, its flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls, I knew—
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about truth.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I lay beside Kael, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.