Chapter 5

The upper hall looked completely different. Overnight, Ashbourne Manor had transformed into a palace worthy of royalty: deep crimson and black banners hanging beside the Ashbourne silver crest, long banquet tables stretching across the room beneath fine white linen, fresh flowers filling crystal vases and completing the lavish display.

Servants hurried in every direction carrying polished silverware, trays of food, and expensive decorations, while the entire manor buzzed with nervous excitement.

“Don’t just stand there!” A passing maid nearly collided with Katina, catching the silver wine pitcher before it slipped from her hands. “The Northern delegation will arrive within the hour,” she added, already hurrying away without waiting for a reply. “Lady Ashbourne wants everything perfect.”

Katina stepped closer to the wall to avoid the rush of servants, her heart beating a little faster. Part of it was fear; the upper hall had never been a kind place, and today would be worse, with the room filled with nobles and important guests who knew only the story Lady Ashbourne wanted them to believe that Katina was a jealous murderer.

Yet beneath that fear, something else stirred: a faint warmth beneath her chest, the same tiny pulse she’d felt in the cellar the previous night, weak and quiet but still alive.

She joined the other serving girls along the far wall, the heavy silver wine pitcher resting against her hip, her eyes lowered exactly as Grissom had instructed.

From the corner of her eye she watched Lady Ashbourne enter in an elegant blue silk gown, every smile effortless and every movement graceful, the perfect hostess. Beside her walked Katerina, pale and fragile, one hand resting gently over her stomach in a way that would make anyone seeing her for the first time believe she was exactly as innocent and fragile as she appeared.

Katina clenched her jaw. The performance was flawless. So was the lie. She remained silent, because she already understood how little the truth mattered in this house.

⸻

Late that morning, a deep horn echoed through the courtyard, nothing like the hunting horns used in Ravenmoor;  this sound deeper and stronger and almost ancient. Conversation stopped immediately. Every noble turned toward the great entrance doors, and Lady Ashbourne straightened her shoulders, her smile becoming even brighter as the enormous doors slowly opened.

The Northern delegation entered, and the room instantly felt colder.

Their soldiers walked in perfect formation, every step landing together as though not a single movement could be wasted, black and crimson cloaks flowing behind them. The guards of Ravenmoor suddenly looked ordinary by comparison.

Then he entered.

He didn’t rush because he didn’t need to; the entire hall seemed to move around him, and Katina, who had heard stories about him for years, felt the truth of every word the moment he crossed the threshold. The Crimson King, the Alpha King of the North, was a ruler feared across every kingdom, a man whose anger had ended wars and whose heart was said to be colder than winter itself. Katina had always believed those stories were exaggerated.

She was wrong.

He was taller than anyone else in the room, broad shoulders disappearing beneath a black coat trimmed with dark fur, dark hair swept neatly away from a face where every feature seemed carved from stone, cold, perfect and timeless. Then Katina saw his eyes, and her breath caught. The stories hadn’t lied. They were crimson, not reddish brown, not amber, but true crimson, dark as fresh blood, the candlelight not reflecting inside them but vanishing, as though the color itself swallowed the light.

The King calmly surveyed the room, his expression never changing, the grand welcome seeming to bore him entirely. Lady Ashbourne stepped forward.

“Your Majesty.” Her voice overflowed with practiced warmth as she offered him a graceful bow. “Ravenmoor is deeply honored by your presence. We have prepared a feast worthy of your kingdom.”

The King looked at her without emotion. “I was told…” His voice was deep and steady, powerful enough to silence the room without effort. “…there would be wine.”

The interruption wasn’t rude, it simply carried the confidence of someone who had never needed to pretend at politeness.

Lady Ashbourne’s smile tightened for the briefest moment before it returned. “Of course, Your Majesty.” She turned quickly toward the servants, her eyes landing on Katina. “Girl. The wine.”

Katina blinked, not realizing for a second that she was being addressed, then hurried forward. The silver pitcher suddenly felt much heavier as she carefully walked between the banquet tables, her gaze lowered, her thoughts running in quiet, desperate circles. Don’t trip. Don’t spill. Don’t make a mistake.

She reached the King’s table. His golden goblet rested before him. She lifted the pitcher slowly, carefully, and wine began pouring into the cup.

Then everything changed. The King became perfectly still not ordinary stillness, but the absolute stillness that preceded something inevitable. The air around him shifted, raising every tiny hair on Katina’s arms, and although she couldn’t explain what had changed, something deep inside her instinctively told her to look up. Without thinking, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

The King’s crimson gaze locked onto hers  not her face entirely, but something beyond it, his nostrils flaring slightly, his head tilting like a wolf catching an impossible scent carried by the wind. For the first time since entering the hall, his expression changed. The perfect control cracked, only slightly, but Katina saw it.

Shock. Pure shock.

“Stop.”

His quiet command echoed through the silent hall. Katina froze, the stream of wine stopping instantly, a single drop overflowing the goblet.

No one moved or even seemed to breathe as the stream of wine stopped instantly, a single drop overflowing the goblet.

The King slowly stood, and up close he towered over her, forcing Katina to tilt her head back just to meet his gaze. She noticed tiny flecks of gold hidden deep inside those crimson eyes, beautiful and terrifying all at once, his presence surrounding her like an invisible mountain, pressing against her chest and her mind and something deeper still.

“Your name.” His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking it for a request; it was an order.

Katina opened her mouth. No sound came out.

Before she could answer, Lady Ashbourne hurried forward. “Your Majesty, she’s only a servant, allow me to send someone more suitable.”

The King ignored her completely and reached for Katina, his fingers closing gently around the wrist bearing the fading mate mark. The instant their skin touched, a terrifying sound exploded through the Great Hall.

Deep. Savage. Inhuman.

The growl seemed to make the walls themselves tremble as guests gasped in fear and guards reached for their weapons, the air in the room suddenly turning sharp and electric.

Katina’s heart nearly stopped.

Then, with a rising sense of horror, Katina realized where the sound had come from.

The growl had come from the King himself.