Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

RHYANNE

No.

No, no, no.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. It must be some cruel trick of the moment, some misfire of nerves after a long night on my feet— that had to be the answer, because the alternative was standing three feet away from me with wine soaking into his boots and murder in his eyes.

Anyone, I begged silently, a little part of me still frantic enough to bargain with a goddess I hadn't prayed to since I was a pup. Please, anyone but him. A stable boy, a traveling merchant, a wolf I'd never met and would never have to see again. Just anyone.

Not Cassian Thorne, not this boy who'd spent years finding new ways to remind me exactly where I stood beneath him. It could be false. It had to be. Bonds could misfire, couldn't they? Some trick of proximity, or stress, of a hundred candles and too much wine in the air. I'd heard stories— half-bonds that faded, false pulls between wolves who weren't truly mates at all. This was one of them. It had to be that, because the other option, the real one clawing at the edge of my thoughts, was too enormous to hold.

"Rhyanne."

His voice cut through the spiral. I dropped to my knees immediately, my hands scrambling for the shards of glass scattered across the marble, using the task like a shield.

"I– I am so sorry, my lord," I said, intentionally not looking up, I kept my voice steady. "I'll clean this immediately."

My fingers closed around a piece of glass too fast and I felt the sting before I registered the cut— a thin line of red welling up across my palm, though I didn't stop. I gathered what I could, dumped it onto the tray, and pushed myself upright, turning to escape into the crowd that had gone entirely too quiet. Every eye in the hall was still fixed on the space between us like they were waiting for the other half of a story to finish.

"Rhyanne." He called again.

I stopped, a traitorous instinct in my spine still answered his voice before my mind could override it, and I hated that more than anything else that had happened tonight.

I turned to see Cassian had recovered himself— mostly. His jaw was still tight, a muscle working beneath his golden skin, but the panic that had cracked through him a moment ago was gone, and it was replaced by something colder and more deliberate. He let the silence stretch just long enough for every noble in that hall to lean in.

"Rhyanne Elric," he said, loud enough to carry, each word placed like a stone in a wall he was building in real time. "I declare you my intended mate."

The words landed like a slap across the entire hall. Somewhere behind me, someone gasped. A ripple of murmurs broke out, rising fast, voices tangling over each other— the crown prince, a servant, an omega— and beneath all of it, Cassian's mouth curved into a smirk that made my stomach turn to ice.

"What?" The word left me unintentionally, I hadn't realized I said it out loud.

"You heard me," his voice dropped. "It's indeed a rare thing, a bond like this. A great opportunity, think of it, Rhyanne— a life in the palace instead of the servants' quarters. Silk instead of that uniform, you'd never have to lift a tray again."

I said nothing, my mind was still catching up, still trying to reconcile the boy who mocked me over spilled wine with the one now offering me a crown like it was a kindness. He mistook my silence for consideration, and it seemed to have emboldened him.

"Given your…" he paused, then continued, "weakness— this would be good for you. More than good actually, you couldn't hope for better, not really. Not someone like you."

Someone like you. Someone like me?!

Something in me went very still at that moment. He must be crazy.

"No," I said firmly.

The word came out clearly. Louder than I meant it to be, ringing out across a hall that had gone breathlessly quiet.

Cassian blinked, for a moment I watched something genuine flicker across his face— a real, unguarded surprise, like the word simply didn't compute in a sentence directed at him.

"Did you just say no?"

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small, rational voice was asking whether pride was really worth this— whether the smart, careful version of me should swallow the insult, take the crown, and figure out the rest later. I knew that voice, I usually listened to it, but not this time.

"I said no," I repeated, steadier the second time.

"No one refuses me." He said it simply, like a fact of nature, like gravity. "No one refuses this."

"I just did."

A ripple of scandalized whispers broke out around us, but I barely heard them over the roar of my own heartbeat. Cassian's expression shifted, the charm completely draining away by degrees until what was left underneath was something sharper— wounded pride dressed up as fury, in his entire golden life, being told no by anyone beneath him.

"You're embarrassing yourself," he said, keeping his voice low for me, though the hall was straining to hear every word anyway. "I'm offering you a way out of that kitchen, out of that uniform, out of a life where you'll always be exactly what they call you— weak. And you're going to stand here and throw that away out of what, pride? You have nothing to be proud of."

"I have plenty," I said, though my voice shook now, just slightly, "just none of it involves being wanted out of pity."

"This isn't pity , Rhyanne."

"Then what is it? It looks like pity to me."

He didn't answer that, instead, he stepped closer, close enough that I started to smell wine and cedar and this particular arrogance clung to him like cologne, then he reached for my hand— the one still bleeding from the glass cut.

I slapped it away before he could close the distance, the sound quickly cracked through the hall like a snapped branch. It was loud enough that every remaining whisper in the room died at once, leaving nothing but silence and the sight of the Alpha prince standing still, his hand still raised where I'd struck it away, staring at me like I'd just set the entire palace on fire.

Maybe I had…

"Please…" I said, and my voice didn't shake, "do not touch me.”