Chapter 5

~SURI/RAGNAR~

I jerk awake when the car comes to a sudden stop. My eyes fly open, and for a moment I have no idea where I am or why my neck feels weirdly comfortable. My head is resting on something warm and firm. It is only when the mountain of muscle beside me shifts that I realize my head is resting on the King’s shoulder.

Great. Fantastic. Perfect way to embarrass myself on day one.

I pull away fast and mutter, “I am sorry.”

He does not acknowledge the apology or even glance my way. “We are home,” he announces as the driver hurries over to open the door.

I step out right beside King Ragnar, and a tiny gasp escapes before I can stop it. 

The magnificent castle is insane. It's huge, elegant, and shining in a way that makes my father’s pack house look like a backyard shed. 

Lycans are scattered all over the vast courtyard; some, especially the elders, line up in front of the castle. They all bow as we make our way towards the palace. But I see their wary eyes regarding me without warmth, and I know I'm not welcome here. My head begins to throb a little, but I force my face to stay calm. The last thing I want is the King’s hand brushing my back and provoking my pain.

King Ragnar leads me through the castle and up a wide staircase into a massive bedroom. The room is luxurious in a way that makes me feel both impressed and suspicious. His sandalwood scent is so dominant here it practically blankets the air. Suddenly, I shiver, feeling a bone-deep tiredness that just screams: Lie down on that huge, soft-looking bed and crash for a century.

“This is our bedroom,” he says, releasing my hand.

My eyes slowly widen to dinner-plate size. Our bedroom? As in… is he planning to sleep in the same room as me? I had definitely braced myself for a much more practical arrangement: him tossing me into a secluded corner room and only summoning me when he remembered his "heir" project.

"Your belongings will be brought up by the servants. You can shower, take a nap, or do whatever it is that you need to do. I will be gone for three days; do not expect me," he says coldly, already turning his broad back to me.

My brows pull together. “You are leaving?” I ask. The question sounds way too needy and way too lonely. It's not that I trust him or enjoy his permanent mood of brooding thunder, but he is the only familiar face I have in this giant, hostile place. I suddenly get a terrifying image of his Lycans drawing lots to decide who gets to "deal" with the enemy's daughter while the boss is away.

He turns around to face me again. "I am the King; I have business to run. Is there a problem?"

 I don't want him to see my sudden spike of fear, so I shrug, schooling my features. "I just... I want to know if I will be safe here and if I am free to move about. You know... your kind really do not take too kindly to my kind."

Something unreadable, and frankly, terrifying gleams in his amber eyes. He takes one single step closer, suddenly towering over me like a very angry...skyscraper. The man is huge, and when he stands that close, it feels like he blocks out every source of light.

“You are my queen, not my prisoner,” he growls quietly. "My pack understands that rule perfectly. Anyone who disrespects or harms you, does so to me. You are free to move anywhere within and outside the confines of this palace without restriction."

“Oh. Okay.” My voice is small, which I hate, but at least he answered.

Before I can even process his decree of royal protection, he spins on his heels and strides out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

I stand there, feeling oddly disappointed and a little stupid about it. Being ignored is not new to me. Being tossed aside emotionally is basically my childhood nickname. So why does it sting now?

I shake it off. I need to survive here, not start crying over a man who probably forgot my name the moment he stepped out. While I wait for the servants to bring my belongings, which are not queen material in any universe, I decide to check out the bathroom and maybe splash some water on my face before I spiral into self-pity.

***

~RAGNAR~

As I walk out of my bedroom, making my way towards my office where my warriors and servants await me, I feel a stubborn, ridiculous pull to turn around, go back into that room, and be with my queen. I fight the urge, constantly reminding myself that she is the enemy. I remind myself again that  I want nothing more from her than an heir to my throne, and an heir to claim her father's throne. Period.

I cannot trust werewolves, especially not anyone from Moonfang. She is a weapon, I remind the irrational beast snarling in my chest. Not a comfort. My primal side has been acting up, wanting to claim her since the minute I saw her at the river, but I need to keep my cool.

When I push the large oak door open, every warrior and guard lowers his head. I walk to stand in front of the room.

"The she-wolf is here," I announce, after some moment of silence. "She is the daughter of our enemy, but she is now my queen." My eyes sweep the room, settling hard on my Beta, Dray, who is watching me with an unreadable expression. "Hear my word and heed it well," I continue, my voice gaining volume. "She is not to be harmed, harassed, or disrespected. She is here by my order. Any slight against her is considered an act of treason against me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Your Grace," they all echo.

I finish assigning her bodyguard and personal servants, and then dismiss everyone except Dray. As the door clicks shut behind the last guard, I turn to see Dray watching me intently, his expression tight.

"What?" I bite out, dropping into my chair.

He folds his arms. "I still think this is a very bad idea," Dray states flatly. "Those werewolves are cunning."

"I raise a brow. “Dray, one woman alone 

cannot bring down an army of Lycans, can she?"

"“Only her father brought it down before,” he fires back. “Have you forgotten so quickly? Have you forgotten how your father extended a hand of friendship to the werewolves and nearly lost everything because of it?”

My jaw tics. “Enough.” The word comes out sharp. “I am not extending a hand of friendship. I am in control here. That is why you will watch her. I want her belongings tracked. Her phone. Her dresses. Everything she owns. She is a spoiled little princess, not a threat. I will not make the mistake my father made.”

Dray regards me for a long, silent moment. I can tell he has more to say, but he swallows it back and bows his head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

“Good. Now prepare for our business trip to Crescent Heart,” I grunt, already reaching for the map.

He bows, spins on his heel, and leaves the room.