Chapter 2 : COME HERE, PRINCESS

As much as I hoped the Supreme Alpha King would slaughter the entire royal court, I needed to run faster if I didn’t want to be one of the dead ones.

My slippers were already soaked through by the time I hit the tree line, and the tight, shirred bodice of my wine-coloured gown felt like a corset of iron. My mother had hoarded this dress in tissue paper for years, waiting for the day she could finally make me someone else’s problem.

Now, the heavy, gathered tiered skirt was snagging on every branch, root, and briar in the Aurelian woods.

I didn't care.

Stopping behind a thick oak, I grabbed the layers of expensive silk and yanked. The violent tearing sound echoed in the quiet forest as I ripped the skirt high enough to free my legs. The cool night air hit my bare calves, and for the first time all evening, I felt like I could actually move.

I pulled my dark travelling cloak tighter and broke into a sprint.

The further I got from the palace, the colder the air became. By the time the trees finally began to thin, my lungs were burning and my legs ached. But through the branches, the shimmering, pitch-black surface of Moonveil Lake finally appeared.

The border.

If I could just get around the eastern edge of the water, I could slip into the neutral territories before sunrise. I slowed my pace, creeping through the thick underbrush. The northern delegation was supposed to be waiting here for Elara. I expected to see a massive war camp, roaring fires, and hundreds of soldiers.

Instead, the shoreline was completely silent.

Too silent.

There were no tents. No drunken guards. Just an unnatural, heavy stillness that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My wolf whimpered, a sudden, primal instinct begging me to drop to the ground and bare my throat.

I ignored her. I just needed to wash the dried tears and smudged makeup from my face before I crossed the boundary.

I hurried down the muddy embankment toward the water. But my ruined silk slippers had absolutely no grip.

My foot slid on wet stone.

I let out a sharp gasp, my arms flailing to catch my balance—but there was nothing to grab. I pitched forward, plunging face-first into the freezing shallows of Moonveil Lake.

The shock of the icy water knocked the breath out of my lungs. I scrambled onto my hands and knees, sputtering, coughing, and dragging my soaking wet cloak out of the mud.

"Usually, thieves try to stay quiet. Not throw themselves into the lake."

The voice came from the shadows just a few feet away. It wasn't a shout. It was a low, rough rumble that vibrated straight through the soles of my wet boots and settled heavily in my stomach.

I froze, still on my hands and knees in the water.

A man stepped out from the cover of the ancient pines, and the moonlight finally caught him.

He was massive. Easily a foot taller than Caelan, with shoulders broad enough to block out the path behind him. He wasn't dressed in royal finery. He wore dark, scarred combat leathers and heavy boots, a wicked-looking blade strapped to his thigh.

His face was mostly obscured by the shadow of his hood, but I could feel the intense, predatory weight of his stare.

A northern warrior.

No. Looking at the way he carried himself—the sheer, suffocating aura of authority rolling off him—this had to be the Supreme Alpha King’s general. The vanguard commander sent ahead to secure the perimeter for his King.

"I'm not a thief," I snapped, shivering violently as I dragged myself out of the water. I tipped my chin up, channeling every ounce of royal arrogance I had been taught to despise. "Step aside, commander. I am passing through."

The man didn't move an inch.

Instead, he tilted his head, slowly taking me in. He looked at my oversized travelling cloak. He looked at my torn, soaking wet dress clinging to my thighs, the mud smeared on my arms, and my hair plastered to my cheeks.

He let out a low, dark chuckle. The sound was terrifyingly smooth.

"Passing through?" he repeated, taking a slow, deliberate step toward me. "This border is locked down on the orders of King Varek. Nobody crosses. Especially not runaway girls playing dress-up in the mud."

"I am not playing dress-up, and I am not subject to northern laws," I retorted, swiping wet hair out of my eyes. "Move out of my way."

"Or what?" he challenged, stopping mere inches from me. Up close, he smelled like woodsmoke, pine, and something dark and intoxicating that made my pulse jump. "You'll drown yourself in my lake?"

My jaw clenched. "Listen to me, commander. I don't have time for this, and neither do you. Your King is going to be very angry tonight, and you need to be prepared."

The man went perfectly still. The mocking amusement vanished from his posture. "Is he?"

"Yes." I hugged my arms around my chest to stop my teeth from chattering. "I know you're waiting for Princess Elara. The treaty bride."

"We are." His voice dropped a full octave, turning rough and dangerous.

"Well, she's not coming." The words spilled out of me, fueled by a mixture of exhaustion and bitter resentment. "She just accepted the mate bond with Prince Caelan in front of the entire court. They're celebrating right now."

Dead silence.

The man's body went entirely rigid. His breathing stopped. Under the shadow of his hood, I saw his eyes flash.

Gold.

A terrifying, predatory gold that seemed to pierce right through the darkness. For a second, his lethal stillness made me want to step back into the freezing lake.

Then, very slowly, his lips curved into a smile.

It wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator who had just found the latch on a cage unlocked.

"Elara isn't coming," he repeated softly.

"No," I said, my voice trembling—from the cold, I told myself. "So please, commander. When King Varek arrives... tell him not to slaughter everyone. Tell him Aurelia is empty. Tell him to take his army and go home. Don't let him start a war over a girl who didn't want him."

He stared down at me, his glowing eyes traveling over my shivering frame, the torn silk, the mud.

"And who are you?" he asked quietly. "To be out here delivering this message?"

I should have lied. Instead, the exhaustion made me reckless. "Princess Devanne Rovin."

He didn't blink. He just stared at my mouth, then snapped his gaze back up to my eyes.

"Please," I added, hating the desperate edge in my voice. "Just tell your King to leave me out of his revenge."

He reached out. His large, leather-gloved hand caught the edge of my hood. Before I could pull away, he pushed the fabric back, fully exposing my face to the moonlight.

His hand stalled against my cheek. His thumb brushed over my jaw, smearing a drop of lake water.

The broken, bleeding space inside my chest—where Caelan had ripped the mate bond apart less than an hour ago—suddenly gave a sharp, frantic twitch.

My breath hitched.

"Well," the man murmured, his thumb trailing down to rest against the pulse jumping frantically in my throat. "Look what the woods dragged in."

I went to step back, to run, but his other hand moved with terrifying speed, his fingers wrapping firmly around my hip to root me in place.

"I think," he whispered, leaning in so close his lips almost brushed my ear, "you can tell the King yourself. Come here, Princess."