CHAPTER TWO

I froze, every muscle locking down. The word hung in the air between us like smoke.

“Prince Klaus.” I pulled my hand back smoothly, dipping into a curtsy. “I would be honored to have your escort inside. I’m sure His Majesty is waiting.”

Klaus stared at me, confusion flickering across his face. His jaw worked like he wanted to say something else, but after a beat, he offered his arm.

“Of course, Princess.”

I placed my hand on his sleeve, and that electric current sparked again. My wolf prowled beneath my skin, restless and hungry. I forced my breathing steady, my smile serene behind the veil.

How was this possible?

Five years. Five years of silence from my wolf, of feeling broken and incomplete, and now—now—she decided to wake up? For him?

Klaus led me through corridors of white marble and gold trim. His arm was rigid beneath my fingers, tension radiating through every inch of him. I could feel him watching me from the corner of his eye.

Stay calm. He can’t know. He can’t possibly—

But that word. My name in his mouth after all these years.

The throne room doors loomed ahead, twice my height and carved with wolves locked in eternal combat. Guards pulled them open, and the space beyond stole my breath.

Vaulted ceilings. Stained glass windows throwing colored light across the floor. And there, seated on a throne of black stone—

My mother’s face flashed behind my eyes. Her arms stretched out, reaching. Blood soaking into the floorboards.

I dug my nails into my palm. Breathe. Stay calm.

“Ah, the bride arrives!” King Aldric rose, and he was exactly as I remembered. Broad-shouldered, silver threading through his dark hair, a smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Come, child. Let me look at you.”

Klaus guided me forward. Each step felt like walking through deep water.

The man who killed my family. Who ordered them slaughtered like animals. Who stood in my house and called my father a traitor while his blood was still warm on the floor.

Aldric descended from his throne, circling me slowly. “George chose well. Good hips. Strong build.” He waved dismissively at the men seated along the walls. “My council. You’ll learn their names eventually.”

He didn’t even look at them when he said it. Like they were furniture.

I curtsied deeply, keeping my voice soft. “Your Majesty. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

“Yes, yes.” He was already turning away, bored. “You’ve had a long journey. Go rest. We’ll discuss the wedding arrangements tomorrow.”

“Allow me to escort you to your chambers, Princess,” Klaus’s voice cut through before I could respond.

“That’s not necessary—”

“I insist.” His hand tightened on my arm. Not painful, but firm. Final.

Aldric waved us off without another glance. “Fine, fine. Go on then.”

Klaus steered me toward a side exit, his pace just slightly too fast. We moved through hallways lined with portraits of dead kings and conquered territories. Servants trailed behind us at a respectful distance.

“That won’t be necessary,” Klaus said without looking back. “Leave us.”

“Your Highness, protocol—”

“Now.”

The command in his voice made them scatter. Footsteps faded, and suddenly it was just us in that endless corridor.

My heart kicked against my ribs.

We rounded a corner into a quieter section. Windows overlooked the gardens. No one was there. No witnesses.

Klaus’s grip shifted to my wrist, and he pulled me sideways, pinning me against the wall between two portraits. His body blocked any escape route.

“What the hell are you doing here, Margaux?”

I kept my voice steady, detached. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t—”

“I was Princess Celeste.” I met his eyes through the veil. “Soon to be your stepmother. And I’d appreciate it if you let me go. This is highly disrespectful.”

“Stop denying it.” His free hand slammed against the wall beside my head. “How could you think I wouldn’t recognize you? That I wouldn’t know you?”

“You’re mistaken—”

“I know your voice. Your body. Your soul. Everything.” He leaned closer, and I could feel his breath through the veil. “Even in the darkest night, I would have recognized you. Don’t insult me by pretending to be someone else.”

My heart hammered. “Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me—”

I stayed silent, chin lifted.

His eyes searched mine through the beadwork. Looking for cracks. For proof.

Then his hand moved to my veil.

“Don’t you dare—”

He tore it away in one swift motion. The fabric ripped, beads scattering across the marble floor with tiny crystalline sounds like breaking stars.

I gasped, hands flying up too late. My face was bare. Exposed.

Klaus went completely still.

His eyes devoured every feature—my cheekbones, sharper now from years of training; my jaw, more defined; the scar above my eyebrow from that night in the woods; my lips, which I pressed into a hard line.

“Oh, baby.” His voice cracked. “I’ve missed you.”

His hand cupped my waist, fingers spanning my ribs, and then his mouth crashed against mine.

The kiss was fire and fury and five years of silence breaking all at once. His lips moved against mine with desperate hunger, like he was trying to devour me, claim me, prove I was real. My traitorous body responded before my mind could catch up—my wolf sang, flooding my veins with heat and want and—

I shoved him.

Hard.

He stumbled back, breathing ragged, lips swollen.

“Don’t.” My voice shook with rage. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”