Chapter 4

Conri

Three days. Thirty-six streets. Every alley, doorway, and rooftop between the market district and the river.

Nothing.

The guard stood at attention in my study doorway, his report already written on his face before he spoke.

"We've completed the final sweep of the eastern quarter, Your Majesty. No matching description. No witnesses. No scent trail beyond the original alley."

I'd stopped expecting good news two days ago.

"How long has your unit been on rotation?"

"Seventy-two hours, sir. We can begin the sweep again within the hour if you—"

"Stand your men down. Let them eat and sleep. We'll resume at dawn."

He saluted and left. The door shut, and the silence that came after was heavier than his report.

"The guards can at least swap shifts. " Varg said from somewhere deep in my chest. His voice was low and unhurried, the way it always got when he was about to say something I didn't want to hear. "But you, haven't closed your eyes in three days. Your hands are shaking. I can feel it from in here."

I looked down. A fine tremor ran through my fingers, barely visible unless you knew where to look. I pressed my palms flat against the desk and held them there until it stopped.

"I'm fine."

"You are stubborn and sleep-deprived, which is a dangerous combination in a king." A pause. "Go eat something. Take a bath. Your men need a leader, not a corpse."

I didn't answer. I stared at the map spread across my desk instead, marked with red lines through every sector we'd cleared. The grid looked like a wound that wouldn't close.

Three days since I'd stood in that alley and held a woman I couldn't see.

Three days since the roaring in my skull had gone quiet for the first time in fifteen years.

Since her fingers had pulled at my shirt and her body had pressed against mine, and for one moment I'd believed the mate bond was something that could actually reach me.

She'd vanished. Nothing left but a scent already dissolving by the time I'd dropped from the rooftop.

"I'm starting to wonder," I said, "if that night actually happened."

Varg went quiet. That alone told me I'd pissed him off..

"Don't." His voice lost the laziness. "Don't you dare, Conri. I was there. I felt her wolf. That light — white, enormous, brighter than anything I've seen in three centuries of bloodline memory — that was no hallucination."

He settled again, his tone warming.

"And I felt her hands. I felt her breath when she bared her throat. Her little sounds, sweet and fearless." A beat. "I couldn't see her face. Neither could you. But I know what a fated mate feels like, and that girl was ours."

My secretary had told me that white wolves hadn't existed in over three hundred years. Extinct bloodline. No living descendants. Every record in the royal archive confirmed it.

But Varg didn't operate on records. He operated on instinct, and in fifteen years his instincts had never been wrong.

"Fine," I said. "We keep looking. Every district. Every house if we have to."

"That's my king." The warmth returned to his voice. "Though perhaps a bath first. Even a fated mate might reconsider if she caught wind of you right now."

A knock came at the door. Hard, fast, three raps. Roran's signature.He is my beta, steadfast as always.

He let himself in without waiting, which meant it was either very good news or very bad. The look on his face settled it.

"Council dispatch." He held up a sealed envelope with the Elder crest stamped in black wax. "Arrived ten minutes ago. Your eleventh wife has been identified."

I took the envelope and broke the seal. The language was formal, ceremonial, the kind of phrasing the Council used when they wanted something to sound holy instead of political.

The Moon Goddess had spoken. A prophecy had named the bride.

I was expected to attend the wedding at the designated pack territory, on the designated date, without delay.

I set the letter down.

Roran was already pacing. He turned on his heel and jabbed a finger at the envelope.

"Maren is dead, Conri. But not because of you." His voice strained with barely contained anger. "The Council had her killed the moment she stopped being useful to them. Or maybe she saw something she shouldn't have. Maybe she said the wrong thing. It doesn't matter. They decided she was a problem, so they erased her."

I said nothing.

"And then they stood in front of the press and told the entire realm you tore her apart with your own hands." His jaw tightened. "Now they want you to smile and show up for another wedding like nothing happened?"

"I know."

"They kill these women, then put your name on the blood," Roran said. "They are not just making you look cruel. They are making you look unfit to rule."

"That's the point." I kept my voice even. "A king the realm hates is a king the Council can weaken."

"Then tell them the truth."

"I can't. The time isn't right yet.” I said quietly."For now. It's not time to break with them. "

He let out a hard breath and dropped into the chair across from me. The leather groaned under his weight. His hands hung between his knees, and for a moment he just sat there, staring at the floor.

"So," he said. Quieter now. "This wedding. Are you going?"

"Which pack?"

He pulled up the details on his tablet, scrolling through the Council's registry. "Greyrock. Alpha Aldric Harfang. Eastern border territory."

I went still.

Greyrock. The eastern district. The same territory my guards had been sweeping for three days.

"Well," Varg said. I could hear the careful edge beneath his calm. "That's interesting."

"The alley," I said. "Where we found her. That was Greyrock territory."

Roran looked up from the tablet.

"A woman appeared in Greyrock territory three nights ago," I said. "And now the Council wants me to marry a bride from the same pack." I pulled my jacket from the back of the chair. "I'll attend."

He stared at me. Something shifted behind his eyes — not quite hope. He'd watched me search for too many years to let himself feel that easily. But something close enough to make him stand.

"And if it's not her?"

"Then we keep looking."

"It's her," Varg said, quiet and certain. "I can feel it."

I didn't tell Roran that. I buttoned my jacket and headed for the door.

Hope was a luxury I'd stopped affording myself years ago, and one coincidence wasn't enough to change that.

But Greyrock was the first lead we'd had in three days, and I was going to walk through that territory myself until I found the woman whose hands had reached through the dark and pulled me back from the edge of what I'd become.