LOGIN“Isabella of Evergreen Pack,” he said softly, “I, Alpha Edmund of Evergreen Pack reject you as my mate…” ★★★★ She was born a warrior… but forced into a crown. Betrothed young to Edmund, heir and eventually Alpha of the pack, she buried her dreams beneath duty, motherhood and a marriage that slowly began to crack. But nothing prepares her for the night she finds her mate kissing her own maid… Clara, an Omega with secrets far darker than anyone would have ever imagined!
View MoreISABELLA’S POV He came to me in the dream. Not the way dreams usually worked. Not the distorted, half-logical way where people appeared as themselves but also as something else. Where geography made no sense and time ran sideways. This was clear. The east garden. The dry fountain. The bare branches. Leon standing beside the fountain in his working clothes. That expression on his face. The kind and welcoming one. I looked at him. He looked at me. For a moment neither of us spoke. We just stood there. Two people who had never had enough time. “You’re dreaming,” he said. “I know,” I said. “How is it,” he said. “Evergreen.” “Standing,” I said. “Difficult. Rebuilding.” I paused. “Ours again.” He nodded slowly. Something in his face was different from how I remembered it in life. The tension was gone. All of it. The weight of the binding and the conquest and thirty years of a hand at the back of his neck. All of it gone. He looked free. He looked like what he might have b
ISABELLA’S POV I told him on a Thursday. Not because Thursday was significant. Because I’d spent three days trying to find a way to do it.I guess I was finally ready. I found Edmund in the training yard. He’d resumed training two weeks after his release — not the performative training of a man proving he was fine, the genuine training of a man rebuilding something that had atrophied during eight months of east chambers. He was different in the training yard now. More serious. Less elegant and more purposeful. I watched him for a moment from the yard entrance. He sensed me — the mate bond doing what it did now that it was acknowledged and present, the specific awareness of each other that had been absent for so long it still surprised me when it worked. He stopped. Turned. Looked at me. Read my face with the new Edmund-skill of looking before speaking. “Come inside,” he said. We sat in his study. Not mine — his, the Alpha’s study adjacent to the throne room, the room whe
ISABELLA’S POV I knew before I let myself know. That was how it worked sometimes — the body carrying information that the mind wasn’t ready to process, storing it somewhere accessible but not examined, waiting for the moment when the examination became unavoidable. The moment became unavoidable on a Wednesday morning in the fourth week. I’d been tired. Not the exhaustion of aftermath — that I’d been managing, the specific bone-deep tiredness of someone who had run on too little for too long and was slowly, imperfectly, reconstructing normal. That kind of tired had a quality I recognized and a direction it was moving in. This was different. Different in the morning specifically. The specific quality of mornings being wrong in a way that the rest of the day wasn’t. Marta came to me. Not because I’d asked for her — because Marta was the healer of Evergreen and Marta had known me since before I could form complete sentences and Marta had the specific gift of arriving when she was
ISABELLA’S POV I resumed the Luna role on the third day. Not with ceremony — there wasn’t time for ceremony and I didn’t want ceremony. Ceremony was for after, for when the immediate work had been done and the pack had space to breathe. What the pack needed immediately was function. I functioned. The Redmoon tribute arrangements: dissolved. The pack’s resources that had been flowing outward for eight months redirected inward. The outer settlements reintegrated properly — not managed from a distance, visited. I went to each one personally in the first week. Sat with their leaders. Heard what eight months of Clara’s governance had looked like from their end. It had looked better than I’d expected in some ways. Clara had been competent. I’d known that. Oswin had told me not to diminish her and he was right. She’d built real things. The settlement leaders had been genuinely heard. The trade arrangements had functioned. The pack infrastructure had been maintained. What it had lac
ISABELLA’S POVI heard it from the kitchens.That was how most things reached me in Redmoon Palace — through the kitchens, through the particular information network of servants and maids and kitchen workers who traded news the way merchants traded goods. Quietly, efficiently, in the
EDMUND’S POVI chose a Tuesday.Not for any particular reason except that Clara seemed most relaxed on Tuesdays. Her guard came down slightly, her movements slowed and her smiles came easier. Maybe it was the weekly trade reports that always showed Evergreen performing well under her “leadership.”
SIERRA'S POV I found Damon in the armory, inspecting weapons with the kind of intense focus that suggested he was trying to work out frustration through steel and sharp edges. Perfect. A frustrated Damon was a receptive Dam
SIERRA'S POV "The Ancient Lycan. If Isabella truly is a threat to the kingdom, he would want to know. And unlike Leon, he wouldn't let sentiment cloud his judgment." "That's dangerous," Damon said slowly. "If we're wrong, if we accuse Isabella to






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