Chapter 5

Third Person

The morning after the coming-of-age ceremony, the Thorne pack house was already in motion. Servants hauled crates through the corridors, florists measured windows, and the kitchens filled the halls with the smell of sugar and roasting meat. The next event was grander than the last: Aurora Thorne's eighteenth birthday.

In the family's private study, the gifts had been arranged across the oak table. Aurora opened each one with practiced delight: pearl earrings from a neighboring pack, a cashmere wrap from a merchant family, silk from the council wives. Pretty and predictable.

Then she lifted a box she hadn't seen.

Black lacquer, edged in gold. No card. When she opened it, the room went quiet.

A necklace. Sapphires set in white gold, each stone cut to catch the morning light and throw blue fire across the ceiling. The craftsmanship alone was worth more than most pack families earned in a year.

Aurora's breath caught. "This is from the Lycan King."

Marcus set down his coffee. "What did you say?"

She turned the box so they could see the royal crest stamped inside the lid. "Valerius Radcliff. He's never sent a gift before."

"The betrothal is formally active now that she's of age," Sienna said, one hand pressed to her chest. "He's acknowledging the alliance."

Marcus's eyes sharpened. A gift from the throne was not politeness. It was a signal. Signals from the crown always meant something.

"I knew it." Cole grinned. "Even the King can see how valuable our sister is."

He glanced at Kaelen and his grin faded.

The young Alpha stood by the window with his hands in his pockets, his expression perfectly pleasant and his jaw clenched tight.

"Let's not make too much of it," Cole said, clearing his throat. "We have company."

The room shifted. Sienna tucked the necklace back into its box. Aurora let her fingers linger on the sapphires before pulling away.

"A generous gift," Kaelen said, and smiled.

Behind the smile, he was already calculating. The Lycan King should have died last night. The arrowhead was poisoned, the route had been planned for weeks. A lavish gift from a dead king would have been a trophy, nothing more.

But the king wasn't dead.

His man had delivered the report at dawn outside the servants' entrance: the assassin had been intercepted. He'd taken poison before capture. No trail, no exposure.

Kaelen processed this the way he processed all failures. In silence, with the next plan already forming.

He'd known Marcus Thorne was a fence-sitter before they ever shook hands. The man had survived this long by switching sides the moment the wind changed, and right now the wind was blowing from the throne.

Marcus was watching him. The Alpha had survived decades by knowing exactly when to switch allegiances, and he could read a failed gamble from across the room.

"Perhaps," Marcus said slowly, "the royal betrothal deserves more consideration than we've given it."

The words landed like a door closing. Even without Kaelen's plans, Marcus's daughter was still betrothed to the Lycan King. Bad reputation or not, the man wore the crown. Aurora could be queen without anyone needing to hold a knife.

Kaelen felt the ground shift and moved fast. The fury was real, but showing it would cost him the one thing he couldn't afford to lose.

"The attempt was unfortunate, but it changes nothing," he said, leaning against the window frame with an ease he didn't feel. "I have a second advantage." He let the silence build. "The Eclipse Arcana."

Marcus frowned. "The witch society?"

"The most powerful underground witch organization in the kingdom. On par with the Night Veil itself." Kaelen watched the name work its way through the room. "They provided the wolf-transfer magic for Aurora's ceremony. And their loyalty is to me."

Sienna said, "The Eclipse Arcana is real?"

"Very real. And very willing." He straightened. "Two packs, yours backed by the Night Veil, mine by the Eclipse. If we announce our engagement at Aurora's birthday celebration, a formal alliance, it sends a message no pack in this kingdom can ignore. Others will follow."

Marcus's posture opened. Sienna was already recalculating guest lists.

"Every Alpha," Marcus said. "Every council member. This birthday will be the most important event of the season."

Aurora had been watching the conversation the way she watched all conversations: from behind the mask of the sweet twin, the gentle sister, the girl who never wanted more than she was given.

"But what about Layla?" Her voice went small and concerned. "Kaelen is her fated mate. She's always liked him so much. And I don't even have a wolf. How could I possibly be a proper Luna?"

Kaelen took her hand. "I've never cared about the mate bond. What I said to Layla about taking care of her, that was kindness, nothing more. You know where my heart is."

The room fell in line.

"Layla has nothing to complain about," one of the advisors said. "The family never denied her anything."

"A cursed child," Sienna said, shaking her head. "We brought her home out of duty. She's the one who stole Aurora's nutrients in the womb, stole her wolf. And still we gave her a name and a place in this household."

"She should be grateful," Cole said.

Marcus settled it. "Once Layla gives up the wolf, Aurora and Kaelen are proper mates. Simple." He glanced at Aurora. "Lock her in her room for a few days. She'll come around. Don't worry about it. It's bad for your health."

Aurora lowered her eyes. "Stealing her mate does feel unfair, though..."

The door opened.

Nobody heard footsteps. Nobody heard the handle turn. But Layla was standing in the doorway with her hair still tangled from the night before and her feet bare on the polished floor, and the room went dead still.

Marcus rose. "How dare you—"

"Don't worry about it," Layla said.

Her voice was light. Almost cheerful.

Aurora's hand tightened around Kaelen's. Cole half-rose from his seat. Sienna's mouth opened and did not close.

Layla looked at them. One by one.

"The wolf? Don't bother—that answer hasn't changed." She turned to Kaelen. He held her gaze, and for the first time his composure cracked by a degree. "But the mate? He's all yours."