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Alexander The Grand Ballroom is even more crowded than the previous night, the competition among potential matches growing as the Gala progresses. By tradition, I should be narrowing my preferences, spending more time with those I find most suitable. Instead, I move mechanically through the required dances, my thoughts a thousand miles away in a forest clearing with a woman whose touch brought balance to my warring nature."Your Highness seems distracted tonight," observes Lady Mirella, the daughter of an influential Alpha from the Western territories, as we complete our obligatory dance."Forgive me," I say automatically. "Many matters require my attention with the coronation approaching."She simpers appropriately, but I can see the calculation in her eyes. All of them are watching, evaluating, strategizing—except Selene, who stands across the room in conversation with my father, her poise perfect as always but her gaze finding me repeatedly.I've successfully avoided her so far, pl
AlexanderMy mother’s watchful eyes pierce right through me as she waits for me to speak. I consider lying, brushing off my questions as nothing more than curiosity. But I’ve never lied to her before, and I don’t intend to start now. "I found my true mate today," I say finally, the words both liberating and damning. "A healer named Lyra, from one of the hidden communities."Elara gasps softly while my mother's expression transforms from shock to a complex mixture of joy and concern. "The mate bond—you're certain?""As certain as you and Father were," I confirm. "The silver connection, instantaneous and undeniable.""Oh, Alex," Elara breathes, understanding immediately the impossible position I'm in. "The Choosing Gala, Princess Selene, the prophecy...""All pointing me in one direction," I finish grimly, "while fate pulls me in another."My mother rises, coming to me, her hands cool against my face as she studies me with those violet eyes so like my own. "A true mate is a gift beyond
LyraI follow the hidden paths back to our secondary encampment, my mind still reeling from the encounter with Alexander. Every step increases the distance between us, and with it comes a physical ache I've only heard described in tales of true mates separated. The silver bond stretches taut between us, a constant reminder of what fate has decreed and duty denies.The dream flowers in my basket seem to pulse with their own soft luminescence in the fading light, their scent more potent than usual—or perhaps my senses are simply heightened by the awakening of the mate bond. Either way, their presence is a tangible reminder of my responsibilities to my people, responsibilities that now seem at odds with the pull of my heart.Our emergency settlement is well-concealed, nestled against a cliff face with natural caves providing shelter. Unlike our permanent enclave, this location is sparse, functional, designed for temporary safety rather than comfort. As I approach, I sense rather than see
Lyra "Or another of your bloodline, though few remain." Thalia’s words bring me back to the present as she reaches for my hands, clasping them in her own. "The Northern delegation seeks a Silverspiral healer for their ritual. Whatever they plan, it involves the prophecy, the Lycan heir, and the disruption of the true mate bond you now share.""But why? What could they hope to gain?""Power," she says simply. "Control over the balanced power that the prophecy promises. If they can bind the heir to their bloodline instead of his true mate, they might redirect the fulfillment of the prophecy to serve their purposes."My mind races, connecting fragments of overheard conversations with this new information. "I overheard them speaking of a binding ceremony, of needing a healer of pure bloodline for a ritual to work properly.""A perversion of ancient magic," Thalia growls. "They would use your blood—your essence—to create a false bond between the prince and their princess, overriding the tr
AlexanderThe remainder of the Gala passes in a blur of forced smiles and diplomatic niceties. I perform my duties mechanically—dancing with potential matches, engaging in political small talk, maintaining the façade of the dutiful heir considering his options. But my thoughts remain fixed on the conversation with Selene in the garden, her veiled threats echoing in my mind."The final night of the Gala approaches. Traditionally, the heir makes his intentions clear by then. I would hate for... misunderstandings to arise."What did she know about Lyra? How much had she discovered about our meeting in the forest? The questions circle endlessly as I navigate the crowded ballroom, accepting congratulations on my upcoming coronation from nobles who have no idea of the turmoil beneath my carefully composed exterior."You're distracted tonight," Dominic murmurs as he appears at my side, offering a much-needed glass of water. "More than usual.""Something's wrong," I reply under my breath. "Sel
Alexander"They need you specifically for the binding ritual to work." I mutter to myself, but Lyra picks up my train of thought."Which is why Selene led the attack herself." She says grimly. "She spotted me trying to escape. I used everything I know about the forest to lose her, but she pursued me for miles." She indicates her injuries. "I didn't escape unscathed.""How did you find your way here?" Dominic asks, suspicion edging his voice, making me growl under my breath. "The palace is heavily guarded, especially during the Gala."Lyra's gaze returns to me. "I followed the bond. It led me here—like a silver thread pulling me toward safety. I knew it was dangerous to come to the palace, but somehow I also knew it was the only place I'd be safe from her."The simple truth of her words reverberates through our connection. She came to me—to her true mate—instinctively seeking protection even at great risk to herself."We need to get you somewhere safer than this garden," I say, assessin
LyraThe hidden chamber feels like both a sanctuary and a prison as hours crawl by with excruciating slowness. My injuries throb despite the rudimentary treatment Alexander and I managed before he left, but the physical pain pales compared to the ache of separation. The mate bond stretches between us, a silver thread that pulses with each passing minute, somehow both comforting and torturous in its reminder of what fate decreed and circumstances deny.I pace the small space, cataloging my surroundings more thoroughly now that I'm alone. The chamber is circular, clearly built within one of the palace's towers. A narrow bed occupies one wall, a small table with two chairs stands in the center, and a fireplace provides both warmth and the means to heat water or cook simple meals. Shelves hold basic supplies—preserved food, medical materials, candles, blankets—suggesting this place was designed for extended hiding if necessary.No windows offer a glimpse of the outside world, only a small
LyraElara and I sit in silence as we both continue to ponder what the Northern delegation has planned. But soon, the quiet feels stifling and I feel the need to speak aloud the thoughts assaulting me. The amulet I wear seems to warm against my skin as the threat crystallizes."Elder Thalia said they need three elements for the binding ritual—the full moon's power, a healer of the Silverspiral bloodline, and the divided heir." I whisper, the small sound loud in the utter silence. "The divided heir," Elara repeats softly. "That's what I keep seeing in my visions—Alexander literally torn in two, one half glowing with healing light, one consumed by Alpha power.""Is such a thing even possible?" I ask, though I already fear the answer."There are ancient rituals that can separate essence from form," she confirms, echoing what I told Alexander earlier. "My mother found references to them in texts preserved from before the purges. They were forbidden practices, considered too dangerous and
Alexander"They found her, but she's not exactly rolling out the welcome mat."Dominic drops a report on my desk, interrupting my third attempt to write a diplomatic response to the Northern territories. I've been staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes, my mind constantly drifting back to last night with Lyra."Vega's niece?" I ask, pushing aside the draft to read the new report."Karina," he confirms, dropping into the chair across from me. "Lives in a tiny settlement called Blackstone Ridge at the edge of the Northern territories. Our messengers found her, but she told them—and I'm quoting directly here—'to go fuck themselves and the royal horses they rode in on.'"I can't help but laugh. "Sounds like she inherited her aunt's charming personality, if not her politics.""She's a healer," Dominic continues, "which makes her refusal more complicated. She's not just rejecting royal authority; she's rejecting what she sees as interference in healer business."I lean back in my
Lyra "I'm glad," I tell Kieran, meaning it despite the complex emotions churning beneath. "That you have someone to talk to."He looks surprised, then grateful for my response. "It helps," he admits. "Figuring out my place here, now that everything's..." he gestures vaguely, "different."The word encompasses so much—our relationship, our community's situation, our very identities shifting in this new context. I reach across the table to touch his hand briefly."Some things aren't different," I tell him. "You're still important to me, Kieran. That hasn't changed."His eyes meet mine, conflict evident in their green depths. "Just important in a different way now."I can't deny the truth of this observation. Before I can respond, a palace page appears in the doorway, bowing slightly when he spots me."Healer Lyra, Prince Alexander requests your presence in the royal study. He says it's regarding tonight's ritual."Kieran withdraws his hand from beneath mine, the moment broken. "You shou
Lyra The royal sanctuary glows with morning light filtering through its glass walls, illuminating Queen Sage as she tends to rare plants with her own hands rather than delegating the task to servants. She looks up as I enter, a knowing smile touching her lips."Lyra," she greets warmly. "You look well this morning."Something in her tone tells me she's perfectly aware of why I might look "well," and I feel heat rise to my cheeks again. "Thank you for inviting me, Your Majesty.""Sage, please," she corrects, setting aside her gardening tools. "At least when we're alone. We're family now, after all."The casual acknowledgment of my place in her son's life—in the royal family—leaves me momentarily speechless. I've been so focused on the complications of court politics that I hadn't fully considered the simpler truth: I've gained not just a mate but a family connection.I kneel beside the spiral pattern of silver-blue blooms she’s tending, assessing their condition with a healer's eye. "
Lyra Sunlight streams through the curtains, painting warm patterns across the tangled sheets. I wake slowly, momentarily disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings before memories of the night flood back. The weight of Alexander's arm draped across my waist anchors me to both the present moment and the significance of what passed between us.I study his sleeping face, softer in repose than his usual royal mask allows. Dark lashes rest against cheeks still bearing faint marks where power surges manifested during our separation. The bond between us pulses with contented warmth, stronger and more stable than it's been since the temporary healing at the Cave of Whispers."You're staring," he murmurs without opening his eyes, a smile curving his lips."Just making sure you're real," I reply, surprised by the vulnerability in my own voice.His eyes open then, violet depths focusing on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "Very real," he assures me, pulling me closer. "And not going
KieranMira and I sit in silence for a while, watching stars appear one by one in the darkening sky. The distant sounds of palace life—guards changing shifts, servants carrying out evening duties—remind me how far we are from the simplicity of our forest home."I slept with someone else," I admit suddenly. "After Lyra left with Alexander that first time. One of the refugees from the northern settlement."Mira raises an eyebrow but doesn't interrupt."I thought it would help," I continue. "Thought maybe if I could just be with someone else, these feelings would fade or change or..." I shake my head. "It didn't work. Just made me feel worse, actually.""Because you were using them to try to forget Lyra," Mira points out. "That never works.""I know that now." I run a hand through my hair in frustration. "Gods, I'm a mess.""Yes, you are," she agrees with characteristic bluntness. "But that doesn't mean you can't figure your shit out."A sudden flush of anger rises in me. "Easy for you t
KieranThe palace gardens are annoyingly perfect—every shrub precisely trimmed, every flower arranged in meticulous patterns, like nature couldn't be trusted to look good without human interference. I find a secluded bench beneath a weeping willow, as far from the manicured beds as possible, and drop onto it with a heavy sigh.It's been two hours since I quietly slipped out of my chambers, unable to stay there any longer. The thin walls did little to muffle the sounds from Lyra's room, each soft gasp and whispered endearment like a knife twisting in my chest. I knew this was coming—hell, I practically pushed her toward the prince—but knowing something will hurt doesn't actually make it hurt less when it happens.I lean back, staring up through willow branches at the darkening sky. At least the stars look the same here as they do back home. Small comfort, but I'll take what I can get."Thought I might find you out here sulking."I don't need to look to recognize Mira's voice. She's bee
Alexander I’ve spent the entire day in bed with Lyra in my arms and I’ve never been more at peace. As twilight deepens outside the windows, we lie tangled together in comfortable silence. My fingers trace idle patterns on her bare shoulder while her head rests on my chest, directly over my heart. The bond between us hums with contented warmth, stronger and more stable than it's been since the temporary healing at the Cave of Whispers."The power surges have stopped," I observe quietly, realizing I haven't experienced a single manifestation since we came together.She props herself up on one elbow to look at me, her hair falling in a curtain around her face. "The intimate connection strengthened the bond's stability," she explains, unable to completely suppress her healer's analytical tendencies even now. "It's not permanent healing, but it's significantly reinforced the temporary measures."I can't help but laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Only you would provide a tec
Lyra The morning light is a soft intrusion, warm on my eyelids and tangled limbs. I wake in the circle of his arms, the night before replaying in vivid, lingering bursts. My body is a symphony of aches and satisfaction, reminders of just how thoroughly bonded we have become.I shift slightly, feeling the press of his skin against mine, and my breath catches at the heady intimacy of it. He murmurs something in his sleep and pulls me closer, as if even unconscious he can't bear for there to be any distance between us. The memory of our first night together blooms in my mind, a kaleidoscope of sensation and emotion.I remember the way he groaned my name as I collapsed against him, spent and breathless, the echo of our shared release reverberating through the bond."Does it hurt?" he asked.It had, but not in the way he meant. The stretch of him inside me was so overwhelming, so intense, but exquisitely good, and the moment I adjusted, it was as if my body couldn't get enough."More," I
Alexander I close the distance between us in one stride, my mouth finding hers with newfound urgency. Her response is immediate and enthusiastic, her body arching into mine as her arms wind around my neck. I tug gently at her loosened tunic, breaking the kiss only long enough to ask, "May I?"She nods, and I slip the garment from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My breath catches at the sight of her—strong and lithe from years of healing work, skin pale gold in the afternoon light, the curve of her waist flaring into hips still covered by her leggings. The binding around her chest is utilitarian rather than decorative, but somehow all the more appealing for its practicality."You're beautiful," I tell her, because it's true and because the flush that spreads across her cheeks at the compliment is worth any momentary awkwardness."You're still wearing too many clothes," she points out, fingers already working at the fastenings of my shirt.I laugh, the sound rusty with dis