Chapter 10

LYRA POV

As I stand before the towering double doors of the Lycan King’s Throne Room, I need a moment to steady my breathing. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure the guards on either side of the entrance can hear it. And though it’s quiet in my head, the silence doesn’t comfort me.

Moon, I wish you were here with me, I whisper to myself, and as expected, get no response.

I still haven’t gotten used to not feeling her presence as strongly. The emptiness where she should have been feels wrong, as though an essential part of me has been ripped from me.

My fingers tighten around the fabric of my dress nervously. It was given to me right before I left the hospital, since my already worn out clothes had to be thrown out after a day out in the wilderness. The piece is nicer than anything I’ve worn in years, and maybe that’s why I feel so uncomfortable in it.

Because in the end, it doesn't change who I am.

An omega. A nobody. A runaway standing at the doors of a king.

I swallow hard, forcing my shoulders back despite the unease curling in my stomach. Be strong, Lyra, I tell myself, trying to think of what Moon would say right now. I can’t afford to look weak. Not in front of the Lycan King.

At last, the guards move to push the heavy doors open. I stiffen, but don’t allow myself to hesitate long. If I freeze now, I’ll ruin my disguise before I even start talking.

The Throne Room swallows me whole the moment I step inside. It’s enormous, far larger than any hall I’d ever been allowed in. The tall ceiling stretches high above, supported by massive stone pillars carved into wolves with bared fangs and glowing eyes. Everything about this place radiates power, from the polished floors beneath my feet to the long crimson carpet that leads straight to the raised dais where the imposing royal throne is.

When my eyes land on him, my breath hitches before I can stop it.

The Lycan King’s presence is so commanding it makes me feel smaller. I’ve heard stories about him my entire life, whispered among omegas and spoken with caution by higher-ranking wolves. They called him ruthless. Cruel. A twisted monarch.

None of it compares to seeing him in person.

He’s… striking. There’s no other word for it. Even seated, he looks regal like someone who doesn’t need to prove anything because the world already belongs to him. His dark hair isn’t neatly combed as you’d expect from a monarch, but rather wild, as though he means to look intimidating and not diplomatic. His features are sharp and stern.

But it’s his eyes that make my chest tighten.

They're electric and piercing in an unhuman way. I didn’t know golden orbs could be this cold, yet they still freeze me to the bone. Just like they did the first time we met in the forest.

For a second, I forget how to breathe. Still, I remind myself of what’s at stake. I force myself to move, step by step, until I reach the base of the dais. My instincts scream at me not to bare my neck at him, but rationally, I know showing submission might be my only way to survive this.

So I do.

“Your Majesty,” I say, the words slightly shaky as I lower myself to one knee before him.

Silence follows. It stretches just long enough to make my skin prickle. I become painfully aware of every heartbeat, every breath, every second that passes without a response. Has he been able to see through me already?

“So,” he finally offers, and I feel a heavy weight lift off my shoulders. “We meet again.”

Flashes of our first encounter surface in my head. I remember his imposing beast, and the fear I felt standing before it. It takes all of my strength to not start shaking again.

“Look at me,” he demands.

My breath stutters, but I obey. The moment I lift my gaze and meet his eyes once more, my chest tightens. It’s like a warning. My mind advising me to stay away from him.

So why does my body suddenly feel so warm?

His gaze narrows slightly, and I wonder if he felt it too.

If he does, he doesn’t mention it, cutting straight to the point, “You claim to have been born a rogue.”

The word rogue tightens like a lump in my throat, but I don’t react. I keep my head lowered, my posture steady.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I reply, forcing myself to remain calm.

“And yet…” His eyes linger on my face, studying me until I feel exposed. “You do not behave like one.”

Panic flickers through me, but I push it down immediately.

“I learned to survive by observing others from afar,” I say carefully.

He watches me in silence, and I have the unsettling feeling that he sees right through me. That he knows I’m hiding something, even if he doesn’t know exactly what.

But he doesn’t press.

Instead, he shifts slightly, his attention sharpening

“Why were you wandering the forest in human form?” he asks. “That’s a quick way to get yourself killed.”

My fingers curl tighter at my sides. This is a question I can answer honestly, but I’m unsure of how he will react to the truth.

“My wolf is weak,” I admit. “I cannot shift.”

Theron subtly arches a brow. “Every shifter can shift,” he states confidently, like it’s an undeniable fact.

My throat tightens, and I repeat, “I can’t.”

Silence falls again, heavier this time. Is this the moment it all ends? Will he deem a wolfless rogue useless? Is he insulted by my mere presence in his kingdom?

Before I can start questioning my every decision, he finally stands. My breath catches as the entire weight of his presence becomes undeniable. He’s even more intimidating up close, every inch of him radiating power and control.

He climbs down the dais slowly, his eyes never leaving me, like a predator approaching a creature it hasn’t decided to kill yet.

When he stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, the sheer force of his presence feels suffocating. His eyes search my face slowly, carefully, as if he’s looking for something hidden beneath the surface.

Then he straightens, his expression returning to that same unreadable calm.

“You wish to remain in my kingdom,” he confirms.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I answer quickly.

“Not for free, I suppose?”

I tense up. “Of course not, Your Majesty. I would be honored to repay your hospitality with whatever form of labor you require.”

Another pause follows, and it feels like my entire future hangs in that silence.

“Very well,” he says at last. “You will stay.”

Relief crashes into me so suddenly it nearly makes my knees give out. My chest loosens for the first time since I walked in. I’m not going back to Shadow Lake. I’ve escaped Lucien.

And I would hopefully walk out of here before triggering the Lycan King’s fury.

“Th-thank you, Your Majesty—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“You will serve me,” he declares, and the words stop me cold.

I blink, confused and apprehensive. “Serve you?”

“As my personal maid,” he clarifies.

His tone leaves no room for argument.

It seems I sang victory too soon.

Here I was, thinking I would get to stay hidden in his kingdom while also avoiding him. That foolish hope is in pieces now, and the idea of having to serve a man who is said to be a tyrant makes me wonder if I should attempt running for the hills.

But I quickly remember that leaving while Lucien is most certainly looking for me is not the best option.

“As you wish, My King,” I say quietly in the end.

With my confirmation, he calls, “Gamma.”

A woman steps forward from the side of the room, tall and composed. There’s strength in the way she carries herself. 

“She will show you your quarters and explain your duties,” he says.

And just like that, my trial is over.

I stand there for a moment, unsure if I’m allowed to move, before the Gamma gestures for me to follow. I turn quickly, falling into step behind her. Relief settles in my chest, but it’s laced with unease. Because as I walk out of the Throne Room, I can’t shake the feeling that I didn’t just secure my safety.

Instead, I might have stepped into something even more dangerous.