Chapter 011. A Wolf Among Lycan

“She’ll make a fine Queen.”

The words should’ve slid off like water, harmless, should’ve been a passing compliment, but it stayed with Saeris. Lodged itself somewhere deep in her ribs, where it shouldn’t have reached. Where it had no business touching.

Saeris gripped the stone balustrade, her fingers clenched tight enough to crack, as cold mountain air licked down her arms.

She should’ve been furious, and she was, but the real betrayal came from her own skin.

A twitch in her chest, like a tether pulled too tight. It wasn’t love—gods, it wasn’t that. Not when she already had someone.

“Breathe,” she whispered, more command than comfort. Her palms flattened on the cool stone. “Breathe. It’s nothing.”

Lies.

Because what kind of mate, what kind of person, reacted like that to someone else? Flynn had betrayed her because he wasn't aware, but she?

She let herself tamp her guilt, shoved it somewhere deep, where it couldn’t rot her any more than it already had.

Let go of the part of her that whispered … whore, traitor, liar—

She could loathe herself later. For now, she had to return before someone noticed the wolf was missing from the performance.

Saeris turned, but slammed into a wall of Lycanscent muscle.

“I’m sor—” The apology died on her lips the moment she looked up.

That disgust, again.

If the Chancellor had masked his distaste in politeness, this male didn’t bother. He looked her up and down like she was dirt on his boots.

“So,” he said, lips curled in a sneer. “This is the wolf who thinks she can be our Queen.”

Saeris scanned the hall behind him, no sign of Vaelen. Dammit, the second he wasn't hovering over her, the vultures descended.

“And you are?”

He shifted with her. Blocking her path.

“No need. You won’t be here long enough to remember names.” His voice was rough and icky, condescension wrapped in a sneer. “You’re only but wolf-born girl playing at royalty. Did you think a pretty dress would make you one of us?"

Saeris’s fingers curled into fists. “Move.”

He didn’t.

“And if I refuse? What then? You’ll go whining to your precious mate?” The way he said it—“mate”—like it was something filthy. “Whatever promises he made, whatever throne you think you’ve climbed into, it won’t last. You’re just his slut for now.”

Something snapped in her. She was so, so tired of being dismissed, of being less and—

“I see.” She pinned him with a look. “Of course you waited for him to leave. You wouldn't have dared breathe those words with Vaelen in the room, and we both know it.”

“You dare—”

“I dare more than you can stomach.” Saeris cut him off. “And at least I don’t slither through corners, spitting venom where no one of power can hear you.”

“You’ve no idea who you’re talking to—”

“She’s speaking to someone who clearly doesn’t know better than to touch what belongs to the King.”

They both turned.

The woman from the hall—her.

Up close, her beauty was lethal. Her makeup was smoky and sharp, her black hair swept back like it dared anyone to muss it.

The old bronze cunt’s pose faltered.

“Mor—”

“Careful, Cassius,” she purred, barely a smile on those perfect lips, and not a frown either. “Remember what happened to the last male who questioned the King’s decision? I believe they’re still finding pieces of him in the mountain pass.”

Cassius’s jaw tightened. “This… arrangement won’t last. She’s nothing but a temporary diversion. She won’t survive a day in this court.”

Like Saeris was already a carcass in waiting.

“Yes, yes,” the woman mused.

Then she turned, heels clicking softly, and strolled towards Saeris, so close their shoulders nearly touched, so close her perfume, rich and spiced with cinnamon rose, lingered in Saeris’s throat. "You'll have to watch your back here. Our court eats pretty little things like you for breakfast.”

The words themselves could have been a warning or a threat. Her tone, soft and almost sympathetic, made it impossible to tell which. Saeris didn’t have time to stay in her head, because Kaan was there next.

Mor—because it had to be her name—slowed her steps long enough to drag one crimson-polished nail across Kaan’s arm as she passed. “Always the dutiful one.”

The smile she gave him was indulgent.

She sauntered off.

Kaan's throat worked. “Pray I don’t remember this when I meet the king, Lord Cassius.” A low murmur, soft enough to be mistaken for kindness, until Saeris saw the way they affected the old male.

He turned and stalked off without another word.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Saeris told Kaan.

She should have kept her mouth shut, but she needed someone to hurt, and Kaan had been watching, and now that she had stepped in, now he wanted to play protector?

His face didn’t so much as twitch. “I wasn’t helping. I was sparing myself a bigger headache. If you think that was the worst of it… you’re mistaken.” His eyes scanned. “You’re not his mate. And these people—” His jaw tightened. “They don’t take well to change.”

There it was. Said aloud.

“It seems everyone here is of pure-blood.”

“I don’t need to be of pure-blood to know the man I serve,” he replied evenly.

She hates him. Hate his master, hate this place—

Saeris snatched a glass of ruby wine and downed half of it in a breath.

A new song began behind them, like golden fanfares, and edged into a lively waltz, punctuated with lilting, pulsing violins.

Saeris tipped her head toward the dais. “Those four women,” she said, gesturing with her glass. “Who are they?”

For a moment, she thought he would ignore her, and she wouldn't have blamed him. Their first encounter hadn't exactly been friendly. But then he spoke, "They're for the King."

She harrumphed at that. "For the King?"

"Should he wish to dance with them, or take them to his bed."

Saeris’s skin crawled. Even with wine burning in her blood, the chill licked up her spine.

“Like mistresses?” she asked, forcing the words out.

“Not entirely. But yes.” She watched his Adam’s apple bob. “They’re nobles. It’s considered… an honor.”

The concept was so repulsive that she had to look up to make sure he wasn't just pulling her leg. But he wasn't that sort of man.

“Don't worry," he added after a pause. "Vaelen won't be taking anyone to his bed tonight."

But he does take.

“I don’t care who he decides to fuck,” she muttered, more to herself than to Kaan. But the venom in it still tasted too bitter to swallow.

She found him easily in the crowd now with Grennar beside him, others she didn’t know, and then her. The woman. But Saeris stared at his profile, at the elegant nose and sensuous lips.

She reached out for another drink.

“Don’t.”

She froze. “Why not?”

“Trust me, you’re not ready to find out what kind of drink that is.”

Something in his tone made her pause. She might not like the answer if she pressed, so she set the glass down with a sigh and followed her own gaze back to him. The woman was saying something now.

“Who is she?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Kaan followed her gaze but remained silent.

“If you want to know things in this court,” said a new voice behind her, drawling and amused, “you’ll want to ask someone who actually talks. And Kaan here? Mn…not your best bet.”

Saeris turned.

It was the male with the cocky grin she’d spotted at the hall entrance. He was taller up close, all lean lines and unbothered arrogance. Something about him reminded her of fire with no leash. He leaned one elbow on the table beside her, posture relaxed, and smiled like they were old friends.

“So,” he said, eyes flicking to Vaelen and back to her. “You’re the famous mate.”

Saeris didn’t trust him, not one bit.

He was handsome, yes—annoyingly so. The men here were practically carved by gods. Titian-red hair, pulled back in a low, careless bun. The sides of his head shaved clean, drawing attention to the curve of his jaw and the smirk there.

“That’s Morgana,” the male offered helpfully. “And Kaan here is definitely not the one to ask about her.” He wiggled his brows suggestively.

Despite herself, curiosity got the better of her. "What is she like?"

That grin spread.