X4

"And," I added, my voice tight with the memory of the gilded cage I’d just fled, "you're being watched every second for the slightest crack in your mask. Spend five minutes too long near the border with a wolf from a rival pack? Sedition. Take your horse through the Moonshade Plains at a gallop? Reckless. Wear a cloak that doesn't display the Stormborn crest? Clearly, you're looking to defect."

"But we Alphas are hunted by predatory houses looking for 'suitable' matches to strengthen their weak pups," Kael countered, his silver-grey eyes glinting in the firelight. "We have to be on high alert in case we find ourselves trapped in the Glassleaf Den or a private balcony with a high-ranking heir. We have to master the art of the 'royal audience'—just enough charm to keep the Elders satisfied, but never enough to be mistaken for a lifelong oath."

"Or you could just practice your charm on the power-hungry outcasts and the silver-tongued spies who don't have any restraint," I said, giving him a teasing look.

Honestly, he would be a hell of a lot of fun to spar with in the training pits—or out of them. I must have let that thought show in my expression because I felt my face heat up. I quickly looked away, mocking his heavy Alpha intensity. It would take a massive hit to crush my spirit, but looking at Kael, I wondered why anyone with a brain would ever want to try.

The door to the Council Den swung open, and Brina Stonekeep stepped in. "The guest suite is prepared, Elder," she said with a respectful bow. "I’ve sent Jessa up to attend him."

"Perfect. Thanks, Brina. Jessa is being groomed for the High Luna’s court," Selene explained. "Why not hit the recovery chambers before the feast, Acacik? You can draft those missives so we can send them through the secure messenger-hawks tomorrow morning."

"Sounds like a plan." I stood up, trying to mimic the poise of the well-behaved heir my parents thought they’d broken.

Kael stood too, his presence looming. I could tell he was trying to solve the puzzle of me. Was I truly this 'rebel runner,' or just a prince having a momentary fever? Was I desperate, or had the Nightfang heir just lost his chance at a mate who actually had a spine?

Once the door clicked shut, Kael sat back down, looking at Selene. "What’s the real game here, Selene?"

"I'm just an Elder trying to help my kin navigate the treacherous waters of blood-politics," she said, her saintly expression as thin as ice. She was definitely plotting. "Don't you think Acacik would make an incredible Luna for a Great House?"

"He'd certainly be a lethal one," Kael said dryly. "Let's just hope the Alpha in question can handle the fire."

My legs felt like jelly by the time I reached the suite. The adrenaline of the escape was crashing, leaving me feeling suddenly exposed. Had I actually made the right move?

Kael Shadowfang didn't seem disgusted by my defiance. Surprised, sure, but not like he was ready to haul me back to my father in chains. I suspected he was a bit of a rogue himself and probably enjoyed the chaos I’d dropped into his quiet afternoon. Since Selene trusted him, I figured my secret was safe for now.

I shook off the nerves and spoke with Jessa as she prepared a cedar-scented bath. She was clearly nervous about working for a Stormborn, and helping her relax helped me stay grounded.

A long soak in the steaming water, infused with forest pine and mountain salt, felt like a rebirth. Jessa had laid out the one formal set of tunics my mother had deemed 'appropriate' for my exile in the frozen North.

I sank into the heat, shuddering at the thought of life at Elowen’s. It would have been ice-water rituals and dawn prayers—purely 'character building' and miserable.

I forced my brain to stay positive. I was safe. Selene was a tactical genius, and Kael seemed like decent entertainment. I was leagues away from the Silverfang District. Even if my father sent the trackers now, I had sanctuary for at least three days.

Maybe they’ll just give up on me, I thought hopefully. They can only tell Kael Nightfang I have the moon-flu for so long. He’ll find another blood-contract, and I can go back to the territory and find my own mate when I’m ready.

What would my 'ideal' mate even look like? I knew what I hated—arrogance and the entitlement of the high-born. My ideal partner would be sharp, have a sense of humor that didn't rely on cruelty, and wouldn't be a total eyesore. Though, I usually steered clear of the 'pretty-boy' Alphas; they usually spent more time admiring their own reflections in their shields than watching the borders.

They’d have to be high-status enough to keep up with me, because I wasn't giving up my palace perks. I didn't buy into that indie-ballad romance where love thrives in a hunter's shack. Not when you’re used to the Citadel life.

For some reason, Kael Shadowfang’s face popped into my head again. He was smart, he had those silver eyes that seemed to read my soul, and he was undeniably rugged.

His clothes weren't the latest court fashions, I noticed. They looked broken-in and practical—meant for the saddle rather than the throne. He was clearly part of Selene’s inner circle, but maybe he was a younger son or a master-at-arms with a modest holding.

My father wouldn't even look at someone who wasn't a Great House Alpha. With a Nightfang in his sights, anything less than a King was a 'step down.'

I dropped the soap and splashed around trying to grab it. Why was I even thinking about a guy I’d just met? I should be focusing on the 'I’m not sorry' scroll to my parents.

I climbed out and let Jessa wrap me in heavy, plush furs. "Thanks, I've got it. Can you bring me the parchment? I need to send word before the feast."

To Alpha Rowan and Luna Elara,

I am writing to confirm I have taken refuge with Elder Selene at Valeheart Manor. I believe her guidance on my future and the laws of the High Court is more relevant to our house than the isolation of the Highlands. She has granted me sanctuary.

I know my deviation from the path caused some friction, and I regret the breach of protocol, but I hope this move allows for a future that honors my spirit—not just a contract.

Your son, Acacik.

I looked at the parchment. "Your dutiful heir" sounded like a lie. I hit the wax seal but didn't send it yet. I wanted Selene to look it over before it left by raven.

Dressed in the boring, slate-grey tunic and a simple silver band, I headed down. Selene was in the Emerald Den, reading a scroll of the High Court decrees.

She looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Acacik, what are you wearing? Did I miss a decree that the new Citadel trend is 'Mourning Monk'? Or did you join a monastery on the way here?"

"My mother thought this was 'suitable' for a prisoner," I said with a sigh. The tunic was a dull grey that made my skin look washed out and had the tailoring of a potato sack. "Here is the draft for my parents. I wanted your sign-off before the raven flies."