LOGINI smirked, sensing an opportunity to turn the tables. “Speaking of telling everything, Kiyan,” I said, my tone light but pointed, “how exactly did you notice she was pretty? I thought you only had eyes for Sera.”
Kiyan froze.
I turned my gaze on Seraphine, voice low and teasing. “Are you really going to let him go around staring at other women? I suppose that’s not what loyal mates do”
Seraphine’s expression darkened instantly. “Kiyan? How did you know she’s pretty?”
He groaned. “Oh for—Aklan, you’re the devil.”
Their argument started in seconds... sharp, biting, entirely predictable. I leaned back, crossing my arms, a satisfied smile tugging at my lips as they started bickering. Kiyan tried to backpedal, stammering about how he was just observing, while Seraphine poked his chest, her voice rose by the second. It was almost too easy to shut him up.
Then I heard her voice.
“What girl?”
It was soft, lilting, but carried the kind of danger only a certain kind of woman could wield.
Valora Gravesend.
I didn’t need to look to know it was her. The room seemed to shift when she walked in like gravity remembered itself but I turned anyway, catching sight of her as she sauntered toward us. Her deep purple corset dress hugged her frame, short in the front to show off her thighs, with a long, dramatic tail trailing behind her. A chain of dark amethysts glinted around her throat. She was a vision, as always, but I wasn’t in the mood for her theatrics today.
She slid into the chair beside me, her dark eyes glinting with that possessive edge she liked to play up, even though she knew exactly what our deal was.
“So, who do I have to kill?” she asked, her voice light but laced with a threat that wasn’t entirely a joke.
I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “Calm down, Val. It’s nothing.”
Kiyan, ever the instigator, flashed her a sweet smile. “No dark magic on school grounds, Valora. You know the rules.”
She tilted her head, her lips curving into a dangerous smile as she looked at me. “Only if the girls keep their hands to themselves.”
Seraphine rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that I didn’t catch but was probably scathing. The bad blood between her and Valora was no secret, and neither Kiyan nor I ever bothered to wade into that mess.
The murky waters between a powerful Warlock and a half fae, half Wyseath princess? Definitely not Lycan territory. Even Valora, a powerful warlock that she was, knew better than to mess with a water wolf, the entire realm of shifters knew damn well the Wyseath were not to be trifled with, worse when you mix fae into that and Seraphine, sweet as she was, was just as dangerous and powerful, if not more than Valora.
Valora ignored Seraphine, her gaze fixed on me. “Something’s got you puzzled,” she said, her voice softer now, almost concerned. “What is it?”
I shook my head, forcing a casual shrug. “Just stressed.”
“Do you have classes in the next hour?” She asked expectantly.
“No I don’t, why?” I glanced at my wristwatch
She studied me for a moment, then leaned closer, her hand brushing my arm knowingly. “I know just the thing to take the edge off.”
Kiyan groaned loudly. “Gods, please don’t.”
Seraphine made a disgusted sound, burying her face in Kiyan’s shoulder. “You two need to get a room.”
Valora smirked, standing and grabbing my wrist as she did. “We’re going to do exactly that.”
As she pulled me to my feet, Kiyan called after us, “Use condoms please! No warlock-lycan hybrids, please. The last thing this academy needs is a baby with fangs and telekinesis.”
A low laugh escaped me despite myself.
Valora’s nails traced lightly along my arm as she led me toward the doors, her perfume lingering like a spell. I followed, outwardly calm, inwardly detached. She was beautiful, deadly, everything a man should want, should fear—and yet, I felt nothing for her beyond the dull familiarity of comfort and power, she knew it too. I had never lied to her and our arrangement had always been clear.
Casual sex, great company, solid friendship. No romantic feelings, no wanting more because that? I could not give.
I didn’t do love, and I was not interested in it. All I needed was a strong, powerful mate who would solidify my claim as heir to the throne, and Valora understood that. Most of the time.
Still, even as she pulled me through the door, her laughter spilling through the corridor, that other face flickered in my mind.
Those hazel eyes.
That impossible intensity.
And the memory of a battlefield long gone cold, where a boy I once called friend lay dying beneath my hands.
Rivan.
My jaw tightened.
No. It couldn’t be.
I forced the thought away, convincing myself I was imagining the resemblance. Just another student. Just another pretty face with a temper.
The words hung in the air.Kiyan moved in front of me fully now, blocking my path, his gaze steady in a way that forced me to focus on him whether I wanted to or not.“You don’t mean that,” he said quietly.“I do.”“No, you don’t.” he replied, just as quiet, just as certain.Something in his tone—something grounded, something unyielding—cut through the noise in my head.“I felt it through the bond, Kiyan. Her fear. Her terror. She was crying because of what Valora did. Because of me.”Kiyan stood, stepping into my path. “I know. I get it. But think about what happens next. You rip her head off and her coven declares war on Narth. Your father will have to choose sides. The alliance crumbles. And Rosalind? She becomes the first target. A pawn.Bottom-tier were-wolf used to settle scores between the big leagues. Is that what you want?”I wanted to roar. I wanted to tear the room apart. But I forced myself to listen, because he was right.The last war had taken Rivan from me.I remembered
I couldn’t sit still.The room felt too small, too suffocating, like the walls were closing in with every step I took. I paced from one end to the other, boots striking against the floor in sharp, uneven rhythms, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides like I was trying to hold something back—something violent, something inevitable.“Aklan,” Kiyan said for what had to be the fifth time. “You need to calm down.”I didn’t answer because I couldn’t.Every time I slowed, every time I tried to listen, it came rushing back—the image of her in that clearing, trembling, terrified, completely out of control. I could still feel it, like it hadn’t ended, like it was still happening somewhere inside me.The mate bond pulsed under my skin, raw and relentless.I shouldn’t have been tapping into it.I knew that.It was torture—pure, self-inflicted torture, but I couldn’t stop. I kept reaching for it, kept brushing against the echo of her fear, her confusion, her pain. It wrapped around my che
The room was small, circular, walls lined with shelves of forbidden texts and relics my father had smuggled here over the years.I walked straight to the center, where a chest sat on a low stone pedestal.It was green, ornate and unmistakable. The magic radiating from it made me want to run out of the room, but I couldn’t. I had to do this.My hands trembled slightly as I knelt in front of it, the key fitting perfectly into the lock like it had been made for that moment alone. It clicked open with quiet finality.I lifted the lid.Inside, resting on dark velvet, was the gold amulet.A single emerald in the center, the size of my thumbnail, carved with runes older than Norsen itself.The kind of object that didn’t just carry magic—it was magic. It hummed faintly as I picked it up, the weight of it far heavier than it should have been.I swallowed hard, my grip tightening.“This is it,” I murmured.For a moment, I couldn’t move.All the years of preparation, all the warnings, all the th
The letter arrived at dawn.I found it slipping under my door like a secret shame, unconcealed and with no seal, just my name in my father’s sharp, unyielding handwriting. I knew what it would say before I opened it. I’d known for years.My heart didn’t race. It didn’t leap or falter or hesitate the way it used to when I was younger, when every piece of news from home felt like something sacred, something I wasn’t quite ready to carry. This time, it simply… settled in my bones like oil. Heavy. Certain.I closed the door behind me before breaking the seal, my fingers steady even as something deeper inside me shifted into place.I made my way to the edge of my bed and sat, the parchment trembling in my fingers, and read the words I’d been dreading since I was nineteen.“The time has come for the wheel of magic has turned. The Veil is thinning. The Marked One has awakened. Return at once and bring the Amulet of Othon with you. I believe you must have found it. Your son’s life depends on
“No.” His voice was flat, almost bored. “You were hypothermic. Near death. I ran you a bath. Body heat. That’s all.”I stared at him, searching his face for the lie.There wasn’t one.I exhaled shakily, relief warring with something sharper—something that felt dangerously close to disappointment.He smirked—just a flicker at the corner of his mouth, but it was enough. “Disappointed?”I glared at him, heat flooding my face. “In your dreams.”His grin widened, slow and deliberate. “You were the one almost begging the last time.”The memory slammed into me, his mouth on mine, his fingers inside me, the way I’d arched, moaned, squirmed like a loser and almost begged. My thighs clenched involuntarily.I shoved off the wall, looking for my clothes. “I need to leave.”He stepped into my path, blocking the dresser. “We need to talk.”“I have nothing to say to you.” I ducked around him, rummaging through the pile of fabric on the chair until I found my skirt and blouse—clean, folded, pressed,
My body ached like it never had before, every muscle, every nerve felt like they had been pulled apart and only just put together a few minutes before I woke up. Whatever I was feeling, it was hell on earth.I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands and the sight of the strange room I was in came to view. The walls were painted in ivory and decorated in tones of burgundy and gold. It looked regal to say the least.I shifted to the side, Still groggy from the sleepiness and saw the large four-poster I had slept on, big enough to fit six bodies comfortably. Slowly, and I mean, painfully slowly, I realized this wasn’t my room, and the memories of last night began to flood in bits and pieces.I ran off into the woods from the bathroom where I had almost obliterated Valora and her minions.I pressed my palm to my chest as the recollection finally slammed into place. I remembered how I had screamed—not just with my mouth, but with something deeper, something buried under skin and bone. I re
“Nothing,” I said instead. “Just tired.”Elsie arched a brow. “You’ve been tired for the past few weeks. Aklan really is a monster, isn’t he?”Pretty much accurate.She grabbed a small bottle and held it out to me. It contained a glowing purple liquid swirling inside.“For your eyes,” she said, a t
I could barely focus, no matter how hard I tried to push through the curiosity that tugged at me; I just couldn’t stop thinking about the mysteries that haunted me. The assassin, the Narthish knife, and the amber green pair of eyes that burned into mine with such hatred that I didn’t think it was h
But because she had no regard for her own life and no real sense of danger, Kitty’s jaw tightened, and she made the mistake of opening her mouth. “Some of us don’t need to be glued to a man to feel relevant.”The table sucked in a collective breath. Even I winced.Seraphina blinked; her fork droppe
I barely slept. I tried to, I really did.It was not unusual, insomnia, and I have a long-term relationship, but this time it wasn’t the usual kind of restless. My brain felt wired into something else, like the world itself was trying to tell me it was time to face the past I buried four years ago.







