X5

"I appreciate the sanctuary, Selene. I’ll send the raven tonight."

Elder Selene set the parchment down, her gaze lingering on my clothes with a frown that could peel the bark off an oak. "Is that truly the only formal kit you brought to the Highlands?"

"I’m afraid so," I said, sinking onto the velvet sofa. "The trunk was packed by a mother who wanted me to look like a beggar in a cage."

"Oh, pup." Selene glanced at the grandfather clock and let out a heavy breath. "It’s too late to call for the court tailors, but I’m certain my steward can find something in the ancestral vaults that fits your frame. Actually, looking at you now, perhaps a humble look serves our purpose," she added vaguely.

I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but the heavy doors to the Emerald Den creaked open. Kael Shadowfang walked in, draped in the sharp, high-contrast black and charcoal of a high-ranking warrior. I felt a sudden, sharp jolt of awareness. What was it about this man that made my wolf pace behind my ribs?

His tunic was flawless. Even with a slight fraying at the collar that spoke of long nights on the road, it was cut to highlight every line of a powerful, predatory build. Only the master-weavers of the Night-Spire could create something that looked so effortless while ruthlessly emphasizing such strength. Perhaps Kael was a lord who preferred the saddle to the throne, or a champion who had traded his spoils for one perfect set of traveling silks.

I wasn't looking to be bartered into a mating bond, but I knew a prime specimen when I saw one. And Kael Shadowfang was a marvel. Dark hair, those calculating grey eyes, and a height that commanded the room. He wasn't a soft courtier; his nose had a slight break that suggested he’d survived more than one skirmish, and his jaw had a jagged, stubborn set.

He gave a slight, respectful nod to us. I forced my heartbeat into a steady rhythm and inclined my head as he dropped into a leather chair across from me.

What was his actual rank? If he was a younger son of a Great House, he should be leading a border patrol or serving the High King’s guard. But he didn't wear a house crest, and he lacked the stiff formality of a royal envoy.

I kept the speculation internal, sticking to mindless talk about how the mist was clearing over the Northfang Ridge and the ancient tapestries hanging above the mantle.

"Are you staying in the Highlands long, Kael?" I asked after Selene finished a sharp rant about how modern pack-leaders lacked the 'stomach' of the old-school Alphas.

"At least a week, I hope," Selene cut in firmly before he could speak. "It’s rare I get two of my favorite pups under one roof."

"Favorite, Elder?" Kael said, his voice dropping into a teasing growl. "I bet you tell all the traveling lords that."

"Have you met the Iron-Scythe twins?" Selene asked with a pointed look. "Total loose cannons. And don't get me started on the other heirs in my circle—about as much personality as a training post. I value brains, grit, and a decent sense of humor. In the two of you, I actually have that, thank the Moon."

When she mentioned 'humor,' I saw Kael’s jaw twitch as he visibly struggled not to stare at my disastrously boring, potato-sack tunic.

"Kael must be questioning your taste, Selene," I said with a sharp laugh. "This is literally the only kit I have. It was 'Highland Exile' approved."

"Ah," Kael said, his eyes finally meeting mine. "I’ll make sure to scratch those territories off my list for any future travels. I'm guessing deep blues or forest greens are more your style, Acacik. Or maybe a sharp, aggressive crimson."

"Crimson? With my hair?"

"The right shade would make the mahogany pop," he said, tilting his head as he scanned me. It should have felt insulting, but it felt clinical—like a commander evaluating a warrior's potential on the field.

"I hate to criticize a fellow Alpha," Selene said, doing exactly that, "but Rowan and Elara have overplayed their hand. It’s not like Acacik isn't a prize for any pack, with or without a Nightfang contract. A message from me will make them rethink this banishment."

I wasn't so sure, and I was desperate to shift the focus. "So," I said, flashing a smile. "Do you have many connections around the Northern Wilds, Kael?"

The sudden shift caught him off guard. He paused. "It’s been a while since I ran these trails."

A non-answer. Kael Shadowfang was playing his cards close to his chest. "Perhaps you’re scouting for new territory?" I prodded. "No pack waiting on a report? No Lord expecting your return?"

"You think I'm a scout?" He looked so genuinely offended that I actually laughed. "The High King would never trust me with a scroll. No, I own some land, and there’s nothing on the horizon that needs my attention right now."

"So, a rogue landowner with a past," I teased. "Got it. You're officially categorized, Kael."

"I'm not that much of a rogue, I hope," he replied, a small smirk playing on his lips. "But I get restless. I like to move. Any territory under my watch would find me out in the forest more often than behind a desk."

I smiled, waiting for a story, but he went quiet. He was a 'need-to-know' man. That was fine; my life story didn't obligate him to share his.

"Did you hear the High Alpha finally took his seat on the Council, Kael?" Selene asked. "He’s been fortifying his estate for years. He’s putting in a stone training circuit I want your take on. I imagine the horses will be ready tomorrow. You want to go for a ride, Acacik?"

"I’d love to, but I have no riding gear..."

"Not an issue, honey," Selene said. "Nero is the stallion for you. He’s got a kick."

The tension was broken by Fenris, the lead sentry, clearing his throat. "The feast is ready, Elder."

Kael stood and, with perfect form, offered his arm to Selene. She shook her head, gesturing toward me, then walked out.

"Acacik?"

"Kael." I rested my hand on his forearm, feeling the rock-hard muscle beneath the silk, and let him lead me to the Great Hall. He held my chair before taking his own spot opposite me.

As the servants laid out the appetizers, I realized two things. One, I was starving. Two, I was absolutely wiped. The high-wire act of running away had finally drained my reserves. I just hoped I didn't fall asleep in my soup.

Acacik was fading fast, Kael noticed. As the courses went by, the spark in the young Alpha’s eyes dimmed.

He’s crashed, Kael figured. The kid had successfully evaded a high-stakes capture and finally felt safe enough to let go. Kael kept the conversation focused on Selene so Acacik wouldn't feel the pressure to perform. He kept his help subtle—passing the wine, a quick nod of encouragement.

How many heirs would actually have the guts to blow up a Nightfang contract? How many would be so unimpressed by the 'High Alpha' title that they’d choose exile instead?

The Lord of Nightfang Citadel was about to lose one hell of a mate if he didn't wake up. Kael wondered how Alpha Rowan was going to explain this. 'Sorry, your mate found a boring tunic and a fast horse more appealing than your crown.' That would be a fun conversation to overhear.

"Why the grin, Kael?" Selene asked.

"Just thinking about the competition, Elder. My compliments to the cook on the venison."

The meat seemed to give Acacik a second wind, but by the time the honey-cakes arrived, he was running on fumes. He maintained his posture—the result of years of 'heir training'—but he was barely there.

When Selene stood to signal the end of the meal, Kael spoke up. "Will you excuse me if I head up? I’ve got some urgent pack business to attend to before dawn."

It was a lie, but it gave Acacik an out. He didn't have to play the guest if the other man was already retiring.