Chapter 42

The crackle of the hearth fire was the only sound breaking the serene quiet of the Alpha suite. Outside, a gentle dusting of fresh snow tumbled silently across the balcony, but inside, the heavy velvet drapes kept the cold mountain night at bay, trapping the sweet scents of pine, cedar, and home.

Six-year-old Zane sat cross-legged in the centre of the vast, fur-draped bed, clutching a small carved wooden wolf that Gamma Liam had carved for him. His bright blue eyes, so like his father’s, danced with stubborn excitement, entirely resisting the heavy sleep tugging at his eyelids.

“Just one story, Father,” Zane pleaded, holding up a tiny finger. “The one about how you and Mother fought the Silver Crest army at the Frozen Spine!”

Asher sat on the edge of the mattress, having already shed his heavy leather armour and formal vestments for a soft linen tunic. A low, rumbling laugh shook his broad chest as he reached out, effortlessly scooping his son up and settling him into his lap.

“You’ve heard that story a hundred times, little wolf,” Asher murmured gently, his large, calloused hand lightly ruffling Zane’s dark, messy hair.

“Because it’s the best one,” Zane insisted, resting his chin against Asher’s chest and looking up with wide, reverent eyes. “Uncle Silas said you leaped off the crag like a shadow, but Mother was the one who saw through their secret trap!”

Lydia walked over from the dressing alcove, wearing a soft ivory robe that flowed softly around her ankles. Her dark hair fell unbound over her shoulders, and her emerald eyes glowed with quiet, boundless affection. She climbed onto the bed beside them, tucking her legs beneath her and sliding close to Asher’s side.

The moment she touched them, the golden energy of their mate bond flared with soft, soothing warmth, cascading over all three of them like a velvet blanket. Zane let out a soft, subconscious sigh of comfort, his small body immediately relaxing into his father’s broad frame as his mother’s presence wrapped around his spirit.

“Your uncle Silas is right about one thing,” Lydia said, her raspy voice rich with tender humour as she leaned her head against Asher’s shoulder. “Your father was very dramatic leaping off those rocks. But victory wasn’t won by heavy swords or grand armies, Zane. It was won because our people trusted each other. Because we stood as one family.”

Asher looked down at his mate, his icy blue eyes softening into pure, unconditional devotion. He wrapped one broad arm securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his side while keeping Zane nestled safely against his heart.

“Your mother speaks the truth,” Asher growled softly into Lydia’s hair, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her temple. “An Alpha can conquer a mountain, but without his Luna... he is just a lone wolf in the cold. Everything good in this kingdom—this peace, our home, and you—exists because of her.”

Zane yawned heavily, his tiny fingers finally loosening their grip on the wooden wolf as sleep won its battle. “When I grow up... I’m going to protect the territory just like you, Father. And I’m going to find a Luna as brave as Mother.”

“You will, my son,” Asher whispered softly, his deep voice thick with quiet pride as he kissed the top of Zane’s head. “You will.”

Lydia smiled tearfully, reaching across to gently smooth back Zane’s bangs as his breathing slowed into the deep, steady rhythm of sleep. She looked up into Asher’s eyes, seeing her entire world reflected in their brilliant blue depth.

Asher lowered Zane between them onto the soft furs, covering him securely before pulling Lydia tightly against his broad chest. Together, wrapped in each other’s arms under the quiet glow of the dying hearth, the sovereigns of Frostwell watched over their sleeping heir—anchored in an eternal, unbreakable love that no storm could ever touch again.