Chapter 7: The Carriage With The Human Girl Has Just Arrived

The carriage had been moving for hours.

Morgana had no way of knowing how long, exactly. Time had become a strange, elastic thing in the darkness of that wooden box. The only light came through a small window high on one side, and even that was dim, filtered through whatever was happening outside.

Eventually, the landscape began to change.

At first, it was subtle. The sound of the wheels changed as they moved from dirt road to stone. The movement became smoother, more deliberate. And then Morgana noticed the sounds outside, not the simple sounds of a village, but something grander. Something vast.

She couldn't help herself. She moved closer to the window and looked out.

Her breath caught.

The Northern Palace rose from the landscape like something out of a dream, and it made every building she'd ever seen look like toys. Towers climbed so high they seemed to disappear into the clouds themselves. The stone was black and shimmered with something that looked like starlight embedded in it. Walls stretched for what seemed like miles, and the gates....the gates were large enough that entire armies could pass through them side by side.

This was not human architecture. This was the work of creatures that thought in centuries and carved their power into the very earth.

As the carriage moved through those gates and onto the palace grounds, Morgana pressed herself closer to the window, her heart pounding.

There were werewolves everywhere.

Some were in human form, massive and powerful even in that shape. Others were closer to their wolf forms, massive beasts the size of horses with eyes that glowed like embers. Some were in that in-between state, half-transformed, too dangerous to have a name. They moved across the grounds with the casual grace of people who owned the world, and seeing them made something primal inside Morgana scream at her to hide.

The carriage wound deeper into the palace complex.

Morgana saw buildings that seemed to stretch on forever. Courtyards with fountains that glowed with something that wasn't water. Creatures moving between the structures with purpose and power. Guards stood at every threshold, their eyes tracking the carriage as it passed.

She was so focused on the sheer enormity of it all that she almost missed the werewolf until it was directly beside the carriage.

It was female, Morgana realized. With silver fur and eyes that gleamed gold. She tilted her head toward the carriage window, and when she spoke, her voice carried clearly:

"Why is there a human in the palace?"

Morgana's entire body went rigid.

Without thinking, she reached up and slammed the window shut. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely manage it. She pressed herself back against the far wall of the carriage and tried to make herself as small as possible.

A human. She'd made it clear. She had seen Morgana through the window and identified her as human, and now every werewolf in this palace would know. They would come for her. They would....

What would they do?

The thought spiraled through her mind like a disease. What would the Kings make her do? How would they use her? She'd been brought here as payment for her father's debt, yes, but what did that mean, specifically? Would they hurt her? Would they....

Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps now. She couldn't seem to get enough air. The carriage felt like a coffin, closing in on all sides. The walls were too close. The darkness was too complete. And somewhere in this palace, in these buildings of black stone and starlight, were three Kings who had orchestrated everything that had led to this moment.

She forced herself to take a deep breath.

Then another.

She would wait. Whatever was going to happen would happen once the carriage stopped. Until then, there was nothing she could do but prepare herself for the worst.

***

Theron's office was lined with windows that overlooked the entire palace grounds.

It was a position of absolute power, and it suited him. From here, he could see everything. The guards at their posts. The servants moving between buildings. The wolves training in the courtyards. He could see the entire machinery of his kingdom operating beneath him, and he could adjust it with a word.

This morning, there was too much to adjust.

The treaty from the Southern Alliance lay in front of him, unsigned and complex. They wanted concessions that Theron had no intention of giving. But they were allies, and allies required diplomacy. So he had spent the early hours of the morning crafting a response that would satisfy them without compromising the North's interests.

He was in the middle of signing when the knock came.

"Enter," he called, not looking up.

The omega servant who pushed open the door was small and careful. She bowed deeply, and when she spoke, her voice was respectful and uncertain:

"Your Majesty, the carriage with the human girl has just arrived."

Theron's pen didn't pause.

He finished the word he was writing, then set the pen down carefully on the desk. When he looked up at the omega, his silver eyes were completely unreadable.

"Clean her up," he said smoothly. "Make sure she is well taken care of. Fed and ready to serve us this night."

The omega had been in the palace long enough to know better than to ask questions. But this time, something in what Theron had said broke through her training. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened.

"Your Majesty, you said... serve?" She couldn't quite finish the sentence. The implications of what he'd said were hanging in the air between them like something poisonous. "Like serve as in...?"

Theron looked up.

It was just a movement, just a shift of his attention, but it was enough to make the omega's blood run cold. His silver eyes held nothing but absolute certainty, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet:

"Did I stutter?"

"No," the omega said immediately, her head dropping so low it was nearly bowing. "No, Your Majesty. I will see to it immediately. Right away."

She turned and hurried from the office, leaving Theron alone with the documents and the view of his kingdom.

He dropped his pen onto the desk.

Then he leaned back in his chair, and a smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that had made enemies reconsider their life choices. It was the smile of someone who had just won a game that no one else even knew they were playing.

For a moment, that smile was almost tender.

Then it faded.

Replaced by something colder. Something older. Something that had been waiting 120 years for this exact moment.

Theron stood and moved to the window, looking down at the carriage as it pulled to a stop in the courtyard below. Servants were already moving toward it, preparing to collect the cargo.

The cargo being their mate.

"You dare to kill yourself just so you wouldn't belong to us," Theron said quietly to the empty room, speaking to her as if she could hear him across the distance. "Well, here you are now. In our palace. Under our roof and terrified."

He picked up his pen and rolled it between his fingers, watching the movement of it like it fascinated him.

"I don't care if you are human or if this is your new disguise," he continued, his voice dropping even lower. "What I care about is that you are under my roof. And I will find out the truth even if I have to fuck it out of you."

He smiled again.

It was a smile that promised things. Dark things. Things that would make her question whether survival was worth the cost.

He would show her exactly what it meant to belong to three Kings who had spent 120 years learning how to break things.