Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5: The Summit

"Stop."

Kael grabs my arm. We are ten feet from the entrance. The Moon Summit rises behind him, white and huge, but I don't look at it. I look at his hand. Then his face. Then my own bare feet.

"What?"

"You can't go in like that."

I look down. Blood on my dress. My bare feet black with dirt and ash. Smoke in my hair. I smell like the tunnel. Like fear. Like escape. Like a woman who has lost everything.

"I don't have shoes," I say.

Kael takes his off. Black boots. Big. Scuffed. He hands them to me.

"Wear these."

I put them on. Too big. I tie the laces tight around my ankles. The leather is warm from his feet. It feels like kindness. Like help I didn't ask for. Like something I don't deserve.

"Now walk," he says. "Head up. Shoulders back. You are King Alaric's daughter. Not a victim. Not a refugee. Not a broken wife. A Queen. Act like one. Believe it."

I walk.

The doors are gold. Heavy. Guards in gray suits watch us. Their eyes go to my dress. My borrowed boots. My bloody hands. My swollen face. They see a mess. They see a woman who fell down. They don't see me rising.

"Name?" one asks. Bored. Like I am nothing. Like I will always be nothing.

"Seraphina Alaric." My voice doesn't shake. I make sure. I make it strong. "Daughter of King Alaric. Candidate for the crown."

He laughs. Then he sees my face. My eyes. He stops.

"Proof?"

I pull the letter from my pocket. The DNA results. Cracked screen. Bloody thumbprint. Real. True. Mine.

He reads it. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"This, this says you have fifteen days to present a consort. To marry. To have a husband."

"I have one." I take Kael's hand. His fingers are warm. Rough. Strong. Real. "Kael of the East. My mate."

Kael steps forward. Tall. Scarred. Dangerous. His burned arm hangs at his side, but he doesn't show it. Doesn't wince. Doesn't break.

The registrar looks at him. At his record. Her face changes. Fear. Recognition. Memory of things she has heard.

"He's a war criminal. Banned from candidacy. From council grounds. From everything."

"Charges were political." Kael's voice is flat. Cold. Hard as stone. "Filed by Darius's allies after I defended my border. After I protected my people. I demand appeal."

"Appeals take months. Election is in thirteen days."

"Then I demand trial by combat." Kael smiles. Not nice. Sharp. Deadly. "Ancient law. Any wolf can clear his name through blood. Through victory. I challenge my accuser to face me. Or admit they lied. Or admit they are cowards."

The room goes quiet. All the guards watch. A man in a gray suit steps forward. Council member. Cold eyes. Thin lips. Power in his shoulders.

"Granted," he says. "Three days. You win, you're cleared. You lose, you die. No mercy. No second chance. No one to save you."

"And if I win?" I ask.

"Then he can stand as your consort." The man smiles. Like he knows something. Like he is winning anyway. Like this is all a game. "But Mrs. Vane, Darius has already registered. With Lila as his Luna. They're ahead in the polls. They have money. Pack support. Council backing. You have no pack. No money. No reputation. Just a war criminal and a pretty story that no one believes."

I lean on the gold counter. My bloody hands leave marks. Red on gold. My mark. My proof.

"I have something better," I say.

"What?"

"Nothing to lose."

I walk away. Kael follows. The guards whisper. The council man watches. I feel his eyes on my back like knives.

We find a corner. Empty. A bench against the wall. I sit on the floor instead. My legs give out. My feet throb. My body is done. My spirit is not.

"Trial by combat," I say. "Are you good enough? Can you win?"

"I'm the best." Kael sits beside me. Close. Not touching. "But Darius will send his champion. Not fight himself. Coward. He will pick someone strong. Someone cruel. Someone who enjoys pain."

"Who will he send?"

"His mother has a pet. An Alpha from the south. They call him the Butcher. Killed twelve men in ritual combat. Never lost. Never showed mercy. Never left a man standing."

I look at Kael's burns. His limp. The blood dried on his face. The pain he hides.

"You're hurt."

"I'll heal." He looks at me. His eyes are gray. Wolf eyes. Seeing too much. "Or I won't. Either way, you register with someone else. Don't miss the deadline because of me. Don't lose the crown for sentiment. Don't be stupid."

I grab his chin. Turn his face to me. Make him look. Make him see me.

"You don't get to die," I say. "I need you. Marcus needs you. So you win. Or I kill you myself. Do you understand me?"

He almost smiles. Almost. His mouth moves. "Yes, Princess."

"Fina."

"What?"

"Call me Fina. Princess is what they called me when they thought I was small. When they thought I was theirs. When they thought I would never rise."

"Fina." He says it slow. Like tasting it. Testing it. Learning it. "Get up, Fina. We have work to do. Plans to make. A war to win. A son to save."

I stand. My feet hurt. My heart hurts. My face is swollen and ugly. But I am here. Registered. In the fight. Alive.

Thirteen days.

I will win the crown. I will clear Kael's name. I will get my son back.

And then I will make Darius wish he had never been born. Wish he had never touched me. Never lied to me. Never thought I was weak. Never thought I was his.

The Summit bells ring. High and clear. Calling the candidates. Calling the wolves. Calling me.

The game is on.