CHAPTER THREE

Jean

I stared at the closed door for some time, contemplating whether to go in and confront them or not. If I go there, there is no telling what Agora might do or say. The man barely respected me.

What if he says something mean in front of Abigail ? I would be so ashamed. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe she should be the one to give him an heir since I can't. 

I watched for a long time, years refusing to drop from my eyes before walking back into my chambers.

    Drums sounded across the palace even before the sun shone, this deep, rolling thunder that shakes the whole courtyard awake. Not for me. Not for Bloodfang, either.

This is for him.

The Alpha King.

Seth Stormclaw.

I could feel him before I had the chance of seeing his face. The air just thickened like someone pulled a big cloth over it. My wolf started pacing, restless, like she wanted to claw her way out of my skin. The warriors bowed, backs bent, like they’re allbowing to something none of us could see. Even Agora , calm as always stood. I couldn't even look at him as my throat felt dry.

Then the gates swung open, and they walked in. Stormclaw’s crew, all armored up in black steel, wolf pelts thrown across their shoulders, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. They moved like one beast, zero chaos, just this eerie, silent discipline. Total opposite of Bloodfang’s usual rabid circus.

And Seth himself led the pack.

Agora is all sculpted cruelty, sharp and cold. Seth? He was wild. Some kind of untamed, dangerous beauty, hair black as a starless night, eyes that are just... not safe. He sat on his horse like he owned the world, like the throne would get up and move for him if he asked. Didn’t even look at me, but my body knew.

My wolf just drops, belly to the floor inside me, shaking. Then she bares her teeth.

    The feast was supposed to be for him…Seth. Torches going full blast, smoke curling up into the rafters, food everywhere. Venison. Spiced boar. Goblets of whatever’s strongest. Everyone laughed wildly as they drank and feasted.

I’m stuck next to Agora , silver crown digging into my head. Abigail sat across from me, acting all sweet and innocent, but her eyes kept moving to Agora , like she was trying to seduce him or something from where she sat.

And then he walked in.

The whole room fell silent as people turned to stare at him. Seth walked through the doors, Stormclaw guards fanning out around him, the whole king vibe draped across his shoulders like it weighed nothing. He didn’t bother with smiles or bows. He just exists, and the whole hall sags around him, whether they wanted to or not.

I tried to avoid looking at him, but I found myself helpless.

Our eyes met.

It isn’t just a glance. Feels more like a head-on collision. It was like someone threw me against the wall without a care in the world. My wolf was howling, clawing, recognition burning through me.

No. 

Not him. 

Not now. 

Not here.

And yet Seth’s gaze didn’t budge. Like he felt it too. Like daring fate is just a hobby for him.

I looked away, my heart racing, but it was too late. I felt something like an electric shock through my body.

Agora ? Either he was oblivious or he was way too aware. His hand found my thigh under the table, squeezing it tight to pass a warning. 

Stay put.

The feast dragged on. I checked out mentally, just floating on memories I wish I could drown.

    I was eight when my mother first warned me.

We were out gathering herbs, the moon hanging heavy and low, her hands suddenly gripping my face, eyes wild and scared in a way I didn’t get.

“Jean,” she said, voice sharp and shaky, “Never let a king’s eyes linger on you.”

“Why?” I had asked, still a kid, clueless.

Her mouth twisted. “Because kings always take what they want. And once they look at you, you’ll never be yours again.”

Back then, I thought she was talking about crowns and thrones. Now, with Seth’s eyes burning through me across the hall, I knew she meant something way, way darker.

I poked at my food, appetite dead, throat locked up tight. Abigail was leaning in toward Agora , laughing at whatever he was saying, fingers brushing his arm. I barely noticed. All I could feel was that invisible cord, stretching across the hall, tugging me toward Seth.

He only looked at me sometimes, but when he does? The air gets tense, almost defiant. Everyone else in the court? Either blind or pretending. Nobody questioned a king if they wanted to keep their head.

Mid-feast, Agora stood up, goblet raised. “To Stormclaw! To the King who brings us together!” He was all charm, and the hall exploded in cheers, mugs slamming, ale spilling everywhere. Abigail was beaming, eyes reflecting firelight.

Me? I couldn’t even fake it. I felt like I had forgotten how to breathe.

The second the singing started, I walked out. Slipped away before Agora could even notice. I needed space, needed to breathe, needed for none of this to be real.

The corridor outside was cold, and people's shadows illuminated the wall. I leaned back, sucking in breaths, trying to steady myself.

And then the air shifted again.

He’s there.

Seth.

He slipped by, his shoulder bumped mine. I felt it, and for a split second, everything was quiet. He smelled like pine needles and cold metal, sharp enough to slice through the haze in my head. And I would let him.

He kept moving. Didn’t turn, didn’t even glance back. I was not supposed to look, right? But then he leans in close, lips almost brushing my ear.

Voice all velvet and danger, low enough to make my skin buzz.

“You don’t belong to him.”

That? That burns. I mean, right down to the bone.

Suddenly my legs go shaky, the wolf in me howling, clawing at the surface. And, hell maybe for the first time in forever, I actually want to believe him.