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The blade took Elder Oberon in the middle of the funeral hymn. One second, he stood beneath the moonlit windows in his silver robe, hands raised for the Alpha Aspen Emberwood rite.
Next, a black bone-handled knife bloomed from his chest, and blood hit the stone before anyone saw who threw it. The hall screamed. Rhae froze at the back wall with a tray of ceremonial cups balanced in both hands. The cups rattled once. Her fingers went numb. The knife wasn't steel. It pulsed faintly, as if it were breathing.
Ritual blade, Elder Oberon choked. Then he fell.
The Warriors drew their weapons. Children were pulled behind their mothers. Elders rose from their high seats.
Beside their father's black coffin, the twin heirs turned. Kaelen Emberwood moved first. He’s the older twin, the one everyone had feared. He’s dressed in a mourning black suit, his shoulder locked with tension. His voice hit the stone like a hammer. Seal the hall.
Guards slammed the doors. Rhea flinched and made herself smaller. Omega survives by staying unseen, especially on nights when Alphas bleed. No one leaves, Kaelen said.
Elder Greta stepped forward, her sharp eyes locked on the knife. This is not murder. This is old magic. The words rippled through the hall like a curse. Old magic meant forbidden power. Old magic meant danger no weapon can stop. Kaelen crouched and pulled the blade free from Elder Oberon’s chest. The minute his skin touched the black bone, every torch on the wall flickered blue. Gasps tore through the crowd. Valen was at his brother’s elbow in one stride, calm and controlled, his hand hovering but not touching. Kaelen, I felt it, Kaelen said low.
Rhea felt it too—a cold streak dragging under her skin, like fingers made of ice. Greta lifted a chin.
Everyone will be questioned. Panic rose in Rhae’s chest like a tide. Her palm sweated. The tray tipped. Her heel caught her hem. “No,” she breathed. The cups hit the floor and shattered. The crash rang like a second blade through the hall, loud, accusatory, final. Every head turned.
Rhea stood among broken ceramic, heart hammering against her ribs so hard she thought it might break through. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it. Kaelen’s gaze snapped to hers. The world narrowed. Everything else faded: the blood, the screaming, the dead Elder, the chaos. There was only him.
Fire struck through her chest, hot and sudden, and yanked. She gaped and grabbed the tray to stay balanced, but her knees buckled anyway. The connection was so intense, so hungry that her breath came in short, panicked gasps.
Kaelen stiffened. As if struck. His wolf surged behind his eyes, silver and gold and furious, and the warriors nearest him stepped back without thinking. The power radiating from him was suffocating. Then Valen looked up. The second was not fire, it was moonlight. Cold, deep, endless enough to drown in. It flooded her veins like ice water, pulled at something primal in her chest, something ancient. Her own wolf, silent her whole life, woke up with a roar inside her skull. MATE. MATE. MATE. Two of them. Both of them. The bonds snapped tight, and Rhae gasped like she couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred. Every nerve in her body was on fire and frozen at the same time. What was happening to her? This wasn’t possible. Omegas didn’t bond to Alphas. Omegas didn’t matter enough.
And certainly not to two heirs at once.
Whispers spread like poison through the hall. Whispers that dripped with accusation and disbelief. “The omega?” Which one? “She belongs to both?” Rhae’s skin crawled. Every eye in the hall pinned her where she stood among the broken ceramic. She tried to make herself smaller, invisible, but her body wouldn’t obey. Her wolf was screaming inside her skull, clawing at her insides, pulling her toward them. Toward both of them. Leave. This isn’t real… This isn’t happening. This is a nightmare. But it was. She could feel them feel Kaelen’s presence burning like wildfire through her chest, hot and demanding and consuming. And Valen was moonlight and ice water, deep and drowning, holding her up even from across the hall. Two bonds. Two mates. Impossible. Her hands trembled. Elder Greta’s face twisted, contorted with something between fury and disgust. Her eyes found Rhae’s like a predator locking onto prey. Something dark and ancient flickered in those eyes, but Rhae was too panicked to understand it. Bring her forward, Greta ordered. Two guards moved. Massive. Armored. Their shadows fell across Rhae like a cage closing in. She scrambled backward, her voice cracking with desperation. “Please, I didn’t. I swear, I don’t know anything about Elder Oberon, I didn’t do this, I……“.
But no one was ready to listen. No one ever listened to Omegas. Valen stepped forward, placing himself between Rhae and the guards. His voice was low, even, and dangerous in its calmness. Do not touch her.
The command hung in the air like a blade.
Kaelen's growl tore through the hall, raw, primal, a sound that vibrated through Rhae’s bones and made her omega instincts scream at her to submit to obey. But another part of her recognized him as hers wanted to run toward him instead. The guards froze. Every warrior in the room took an unconscious step back from the twins' heirs, sensing the danger radiating from them. But Kaelen’s eyes… they cut straight through the crowd. Straight to Rhae. And she felt it like a physical blow. He was looking at her with such intensity that her breath caught in her throat. His wolf surged behind his eyes, silver and gold and furious, and for one heart-stopping second, she thought he would come to her. She felt him want to come to her. She felt his wolf straining towards her through the bond like a beast on a chain. Then his expression went blank. Stone. Ice.
His silence was worse than any blade.
They fell into a rhythm within two days that told Rhae more about her mates than three weeks of quiet ever could have.Kaelen wanted to move fast, push the pace past what the warriors could comfortably hold, cut sleep short, treat every hour of daylight as an hour closer to whatever “empty throne” the messenger had died trying to warn them about but Valen wanted to move carefully instead scout further ahead, rest properly, arrive intact instead of arriving first and tired. Neither was wrong. Neither would yield to the other without her.“You keep doing this,” Kaelen said, on the third night, not quite accusing, watching her settle the argument the way she had every night since they’d left. “Standing between us like a wall instead of picking a side.”“I’m not a wall,” Rhae said. “I’m the reason there are two sides worth balancing instead of one of you running this into the ground alone.”Valen’s mouth twitched, the closest he came to a laugh most nights now. “She’s not wrong.”“I didn’
They argued about it for two days before agreeing on what to do next. Kaelen wanted to move on the council while it was still bleeding and force what was left of the elders to answer for eighteen years in the open, reclaim Emberwood’s leadership before someone less patient tried to fill the vacuum first. Valen wanted patience of a different kind: he wanted to find out what “someone older than the council” actually meant before they spent what little advantage they had chasing a threat they couldn’t name. The twins both disagreed but it was Rhae who finally settled it, sitting between them at the sanctuary pool the way she’d started doing whenever a decision needed all three of them actually to agree instead of two of them winning. “We can’t rebuild anything on top of a question we haven’t answered,” she said. “Whatever’s older than the council, it already knows about me. It’s already decided we’ll speak again. I’d rather choose the ground we meet on than wait for it to choose one for u
She meant to tell them the next morning. Then the morning after that.Each day she found a reason not to. The timing was wrong, Kaelen too tired from two sleepless nights, Valen too buried in maps and council reports, the sanctuary felt too fragile a peace to spend on something that might shatter it. She told herself she was protecting them. She recognized, distantly, that it was the same lie Aspen had told himself for eighteen years, and hated how easily it fit her mouth too. On the fourth day, Bastian came back.He looked worse than the last time she had seen him on the ridge; he was now thinner, a fresh cut healing badly along his jaw, the particular exhaustion of a man who hadn’t stopped moving since he’d last spoken to them. Kaelen met him at the sanctuary door with a hand on his blade out of habit more than suspicion now.“He’s gone,” Bastian said, without preamble. “Whoever pulled him back after the ritual failed did it clean. No trail. No body. I’ve called in every favor I hav
There was no floor where the voice kept her. No walls, no light she could call light, only a vast, patient dark that felt less like a place and more like something holding its breath around her.You’re not what I expected, it said, closer now, though nothing about the dark suggested distance meant anything here. Eighteen years starved of what you are, and still enough left in you to burn a council’s ritual down around their own ears. Sera would be proud. I only wonder if she’d be afraid, too.“Who are you.” Rhae’s voice didn’t echo. It simply existed, small, swallowed the instant she let it out.Someone who’s been waiting longer than your mother’s grief has had a name. A pause, almost gentle. Not tonight, little BloodMoon. Tonight you go back to the two men currently tearing a chamber apart trying to find you. But we will speak again. You have too much of her in you for that not to be true.The dark folded, the way water folds around a stone dropped into it, and Rhae fell upward into
Kaelen reached the slab before the light finished swallowing the room. He didn’t fight the guards so much as go through them in one motion, blade and shoulder and a raw fury moving together the way Rhae had only ever seen him move in the worst of a battle, never for her specifically, not until now. Valen was a half-step behind, faster with his hands than his brother, already at her wrists, already working the restraints with fingers that didn’t shake even though his voice did. “Stay with us,” he said, low, urgent, not quite a command and not quite a plea. “Whatever this is, you don’t go into it alone.” “I don’t think I have a choice,” Rhae said, and felt, even as she said it, how true that was becoming. The elder’s chant hadn’t stopped. If anything, the surge of the twins breaking in had fed the chalk lines, which flared brighter instead of fading, the moonlight through the shaft above thickened into something almost solid, and Rhae felt the pressure in her chest sharpen from testing
She didn’t answer the voice. She listened to it instead, the way her whole life had taught her to listen to anything that might decide whether she lived through the night, carefully, from a distance, giving nothing away.It didn’t come again. But the not-coming felt less like absence than patience, and patience frightened her more than a threat would have.She pressed her palm flat against the suppressor cuff and reached, instead, for the only thread she trusted. It came back to her thin and far, like a hand felt through a wall of water, but it was there Kaelen’s fury, banked but not gone, and beneath it, steadier, Valen’s mind working through something with the same cold patience he gave every problem that might get them killed. She couldn’t hear words. She didn’t need to. She’d learned the shape of them both well enough now to know: they hadn’t stopped. They weren’t going to.Hold on, she thought at the thread, uncertain if thought alone could cross whatever the cuff was choking, a







