CHAPTER 2

The throne room emptied slowly, like water draining around a stone. Nobles retreated in stiff-backed clusters, whispering behind their jeweled hands, throwing sharp, nervous glances toward the shifter standing bare and unbound at their king’s side.

Corvin didn’t spare them a look.

His hand remained hooked loosely in the leather collar at Elowen’s throat, a quiet, unyielding claim. When the last courtier finally fled and the hall doors boomed shut, the silence that followed was vast and taut, humming with something Elowen had felt from the moment he saw the king.

He felt it as interest, danger, and possibility tangled together.

Corvin let go of the collar only to step in front of him, hands clasped behind his back, posture deceptively relaxed.

“Walk,” he said.

His voice was not loud nor harsh. It was simply a command.

Elowen raised an eyebrow. “Does your palace bite if I step wrong?”

Corvin’s eyes, pale, clear, and ice-sharp, slid down and then up his bare body again. A slow, precise inspection.

“Only if I tell it to.”

Elowen suppressed a shiver.

The king turned on his heel, cloak sweeping across the black marble. Elowen followed, leaving the remnants of the net behind. He didn’t bother to hide his confidence; the cold air brushing against his skin was a reminder that he had won the first round.

He was inside the palace and had gotten the king’s attention. He had managed to enter the one place no shifter had ever survived long enough to understand.

Two guards flanked them, silent shadows, tense as bowstrings. Corvin did not acknowledge them. He didn’t have to. His presence filled the corridor ahead of them like a storm front, calibrated and heavy.

They passed towering doors etched with ravens and swords. Each step echoed a steady rhythm Elowen found himself matching. Not submissively, never that, but naturally, falling into pace beside a man who moved like command made flesh.

He had expected cruelty, brutality, not this controlled calm.

The corridor opened into a smaller hall lined with carved columns. Torches guttered in iron sconces, their light turning Corvin’s black hair molten at the edges. He looked carved from obsidian, sharp and cool.

Elowen took that in silently. This man was not silver-haired or old as rumors had whispered. He was midnight.

Corvin stopped beside a door carved with intricate sigils.

“Inside,” he said.

Elowen crossed his arms. “Is this where you slaughter intruders? A nicely decorated execution room?”

Corvin’s gaze flicked to his arms, then to the door. “If I wanted you dead, fox, you wouldn’t be speaking.”

He was bold, infuriating, and, honestly, a little enticing.

Elowen swept inside without another word.

The king’s private solar was warmer than the hall, lit by tall lamps and dominated by a long blackwood table, maps pinned beneath glass weights. Weapons hung on the walls: swords, daggers, a wicked-looking spear etched with gold.

Elowen recognized the value instantly. This room was not for decoration; it was where the king planned wars.

Corvin entered behind him and closed the door. The click of the lock was soft but unmistakable.

Elowen smirked. “Careful. People will talk if you keep locking me in rooms with you.”

Corvin stepped closer, his presence filling the space. “Let them talk.”

He circled once, eyes never leaving Elowen’s face. The silence between them grew thicker, layered with tension neither of them pretended not to notice.

When Corvin finally spoke, his voice was quiet.

“Shift.”

Elowen blinked. “Now?”

Corvin nodded. “I want to see how quickly you can do it. And how much control you have.”

Elowen let a beat of silence stretch, watching the king watch him.

Corvin didn’t move. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t attempt to soften his command. His voice didn’t rise or sharpen. He simply waited.

It unnerved Elowen more than a threat.

He rolled his shoulders. “Very well.”

The shift rose instantly as heat, pain, and light under the skin. A ripple through muscle and bone. His body shrank, curled, fur bursting through skin like a second breath.

Seconds later, a sleek red fox sat on the floor, tail curled neatly around his paws.

Corvin lowered himself into a crouch, cloak fanning around him like black wings. His pale eyes reflected the fox’s shape, a glint of something sharp and fascinated beneath the calm.

“You’re smaller than I expected,” he murmured.

Elowen bared small, perfect teeth.

Corvin’s lips curved. “Attitude comes in all sizes, it seems.”

He reached out.

Elowen resisted the instinct to lunge or bite, but only just. The king’s gloved hand brushed the top of his head, fingers sinking briefly into soft fur.

Heat shot through him.

It felt wrong and unexpected, too intimate for a first day and too intimate for an enemy.

Corvin rose. “Shift back.”

The change hit hard this time, skin prickling as fur slid away. Elowen exhaled, human again, and very naked again, before the king’s boots.

Corvin didn’t look away. “Interesting.”

“What exactly is interesting?” Elowen asked, lifting his chin.

“You obeyed.”

Elowen bristled. “I chose to. That’s not the same.”

A beat of silence passed. Corvin’s eyes softened, not with kindness, but with recognition.

“Good,” the king said. “It would be dull if you were simple.”

He walked to the wardrobe on the far wall, opened it, and withdrew a folded cloth. A shirt, simple linen. He held it out.

Elowen didn’t move.

“Put it on,” Corvin said.

“Does my nudity offend you?”

“No,” the king said, tone flat. “But it distracts you. And right now, I want your mind.”

Elowen’s breath stuttered once, quick, internal, almost invisible.

He reached for the shirt slowly. His fingers brushed Corvin’s glove when he took it. Electricity ran through him, a spark that traveled straight up his arm.

Corvin noticed. And said nothing.

Elowen pulled the shirt over his head. He felt the king watching him the entire time.

When he finished, Corvin stepped toward the table covered in maps and brushed a hand over one corner. Marks of ink crossed the borders of Valdris like scars.

“Tell me why you were in my garden,” Corvin said.

Elowen leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles. “I like flowers.”

Corvin didn’t turn. “Lie again, and I’ll know.”

Elowen straightened.

So this was the famous Crown Sight. He had expected a kind of magic, but he hadn’t expected the force behind the king’s words. It was not an empty threat but an awareness.

Corvin tapped a finger on the map. “My wards alerted the mage because they sensed intent. Shifter or not, you came in with purpose.”

Elowen walked toward the table, steps silent. “Maybe I wanted to see the king.”

Corvin finally looked at him. “Then see me. But don’t insult my intelligence.”

Elowen held his gaze. “I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Not yet, at least,” Corvin said.

Elowen tensed. “You’re very sure.”

“Because if you had been,” Corvin said, moving closer until he stood only inches away, “you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to be caught.”

Elowen’s breath hitched very softly. Corvin stood close enough to feel it. Their faces were inches apart.

Corvin’s voice dipped. “You walked into my palace alone and intentionally. So tell me, Elowen,”

He lifted Elowen’s chin with one gloved finger.

“What exactly were you hoping to find?”

Elowen swallowed, the motion pressing his throat lightly into the king’s touch.

“A weak spot,” he said.

Corvin’s eyes glittered. “Do you see one?”

Elowen’s pulse pounded. “Not yet, anyway.”

Corvin dropped his hand.

“Good.” The king stepped away, reclaiming the space with frightening ease. “Then you’ll have to stay close. Closer than you expected.”

Elowen’s skin heated.

Corvin continued, voice calm. “From tonight onward, you remain in my sight. You eat where I eat, walk where I walk, and sleep where I sleep.”

Elowen stiffened. “In your chamber?”

Corvin’s expression didn’t flicker. “Unless you prefer a cell.”

A chill skated along Elowen’s spine. It was not fear. It was something much more disorienting.

“Fine,” Elowen said. “But I’m not your pet.”

Corvin’s smile was slight. Dangerous. “No,” he agreed. “You’re far more interesting.”

He turned toward the door, opening it with a quiet click. The guards jolted to attention.

“Escort him,” Corvin said, “to my rooms.”

Elowen lifted his chin and stepped out into the hall, passing between the guards with the smooth elegance of a creature who refused to bow to anyone.

Before the door closed, Corvin spoke one last time.

“Elowen.”

The fox paused.

Corvin’s pale eyes held his.

“If you plan to run,” the king said softly, “do it before dawn. Because after that, I will not let you get far.”

Heat pulsed in Elowen’s chest, half warning and half thrill.

He smiled slowly.

“Who said I want to run?”

Corvin didn’t look away.

“Not yet,” he said.

Elowen’s pulse jumped.

And the door clicked shut between them.