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The King’s Reckoning (Kael)

Author: Magdeleina Thomson
last update Last Updated: 2025-10-01 13:28:32

Kings do not do folly.

That is what my tutors told me. That is what my generals expect. That is the doctrine I have worn like armor all my life: decisions measured, cruelty dispensed in clean lines, mercy rationed like a drink you are allowed only when you have earned dying for it.

Last night broke that cadence.

I remember the scream as if it were a blade: raw, sudden, not pleading but claiming. It cut through maps and men and the careful noise of my court and lodged in me. It did not beg. It commanded. It called me to something I had forgotten how to answer.

I shredded wolves because of that sound. Not because of my titles, not because of duty, but because something in my chest — an animal older than law — demanded her safety before any stratagem could be considered. I tore through those assassins like a winter downstream, and I still feel the smell of their blood in the air: metal, salt, the small, bitter perfume of failure averted.

When I found her—Riley—she fought like a thing tha
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  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Butter Knives, Bloodlines & Bad Decisions

    Riley Here’s the thing about royal dinners: they always start with soup and end with someone’s ego on fire. I was just hoping, for once, it wouldn’t be mine. The room glittered — chandeliers, silver, nobles so polished you could probably check your reflection on their foreheads. And then there was me: rogue, stray, freshly bathed but still carrying an aura of “don’t talk to me, I bite.” I’d barely taken two sips of wine when Lord Carrow, human embodiment of inherited arrogance, decided to bless us with his voice. “To old laws,” he said, smiling like the toast itself was a sermon. “To blood untainted, to purity preserved, to His Majesty’s mercy—” I raised my glass. “And to the extinction of bad speeches.” You could’ve heard a mouse choke. Kael didn’t move, which was either restraint or entertainment. Hard to tell with him. Carrow, bless his tiny pride, turned to me with a condescending smile. “You mock what you cannot comprehend, wolf.” “I mock what bores me,” I said, taking

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Bread, Baths, and Bad Ideas

    Riley If palaces had personalities, this one was an arrogant show-off. Velvet curtains that looked like they could smother a small kingdom. Chandeliers so bright they could burn retinas. Carpets thick enough to hide the remains of a scandal. And the bed. Gods. The bed. It wasn’t a piece of furniture; it was a declaration of war on poverty. Massive. Silken. Possibly enchanted to eat peasants. I eyed it suspiciously. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” The bed, as usual, said nothing. On the table: bread, cheese, wine. And a knife. I laughed so hard I nearly dropped the bottle. “Oh, that’s rich. Bread and a knife. Nothing says romance like snacks and potential murder weapons. Kael, you absolute menace.” I picked up the knife, pressed it dramatically to my chest, and sighed, “Be still, my rogue heart.” I collapsed onto the bed, sinking into its sinful softness. “This is unfair. I was getting good at sleeping on cold stone.” Through the cracked door, two Lycans stood like perfect

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Terms of Surrender (That Aren’t)

    Riley Newsflash: palaces echo. Especially when you limp through them dripping werewolf and making terrible life choices with a king at your elbow. We hit the grand hall like a scandal on legs. Columns soared, banners draped, floor polished enough to see the smeared comedy show of blood on my face. Court functionaries froze mid-scroll. Guards straightened so hard I heard vertebrae complain. A steward gagged delicately, which, rude. I flashed him a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious. Unless you’re boring.” Kael didn’t flinch. He strode, and the sea parted because that’s what seas do when a Lycan King wants his chair. The throne sat on its dais like the world’s most expensive warning label. I’d been in this room as contraband. Today I walked in as… what, exactly? Chaos with a hall pass? We stopped at the foot of the steps. Advisors oozed out of the woodwork: robed, perfumed, bearded in wisdom they’d probably bought wholesale. Erynos, the ancient librarian of doom, hovered

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   The Things We Don’t Say

    Riley The clearing smelled like blood, ash, and testosterone. Bodies everywhere. Wolves shredded. Trees broken. And me—standing in the middle, dripping, bruised, and grinning like the world’s most sarcastic war goddess. Kael shifted back, all gold eyes and brooding menace, covered in streaks of blood like it was some kind of cologne. Honestly? If this man wasn’t careful, Murder Monthly was going to make him their centerfold. “Nice timing,” I said, wiping blood off my cheek with the back of my hand. “Next time maybe bring snacks? I was getting bored.” His gaze burned. “You could have died.” “Correction: they could have died.” I gestured to the carnage. “And spoiler alert—they did.” “You mock,” he said, stepping closer, voice like thunder in velvet. “Yeah,” I shot back, “because it beats crying. And I don’t look cute with mascara streaks.” --- Kael She laughed. Bleeding, trembling, still standing—she laughed. I should have roared at her. Punished her. Dragged her back in cha

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   Teeth in the Quiet (Riley & Kael)

    Riley Freedom lasted four hours. Four. That’s how long it took before the forest decided to send me eight very large, very ugly werewolves who apparently thought I was the prize in some twisted carnival game. They slinked into the clearing, teeth glinting, eyes glowing. I spun my dagger lazily, because if I was going to die, I was at least going to roast them on the way out. “Well, well,” I said. “A whole boy band just for me. What are you called—One Growl? Backstreet Mutts? NSnarl?” The biggest one shifted, bones cracking, scars writhing across his face. “Riley Ashford. You come easily, or you come bleeding.” I clutched my chest in fake awe. “Oh, edgy. Big words. Did you practice that line in front of the mirror? Or was it written by the same guy who did Twilight fanfiction?” One of his wolves snorted. He smacked him. I wagged my dagger. “Bad management and unoriginal dialogue. You guys really need HR.” They lunged. --- The Roast Fight Wolf #1: lunged straig

  • The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen   The Hunt I Cannot Refuse (Kael)

    Sleep will not come. I traded the bed for stone hours ago, letting the night make a blade of my spine against the cold balcony rail. Below, the courtyards are empty bowls, the torches thinning to embers. Beyond the walls, the forest stands like a jury. I have stood in these shadows before battles, counting the breaths between duty and blood. Those nights were simple: there was always an enemy I could touch. Tonight the enemy is absence. Her absence. It has a gait. I can hear it pacing the corridors she used to fill with mockery. It has a scent—iron and citrus memory—that my body insists is near when it is not. When I force my eyes shut, I see the swerve of her mouth as she throws a blade of a sentence and then refuses to watch whether it lands. I am a king who never needed laughter, now hollowed by the shape of hers not being here to carve me. Varyn finds me there—because he always finds me, even when I would rather be a rumor. He stands at a distance that acknowledges both

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