Chapter Three.

King Aldric

“The prophecy.”

King Aldric Ainsworth was at the head of the table. He said it plainly. No shouting. Still, no one spoke after.

“Your Majesty, we don’t actually know what it means” — Lord Caspian started.

Aldric cut him off. “A power surge on a blood moon. From inside my palace. From a White Wolf.” His fingers pressed into the wood. “Strong enough to shake the empire.”

Caspian swallowed. “She’s only eighteen. Your daughter. Your blood…”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

The words came from High Councilor Theron. Flat. Certain.

The room went quiet.

“The prophecy says the one who unites the wolves will come from our bloodline,” Theron continued. “If it’s her, then every Black Wolf pack, every fringe clan, every discontented mutt in the empire will follow her.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “She becomes a banner. A rallying cry.”

No one spoke for a moment.

Finally, someone asked, very carefully, “What do we do?”

“We could send her away,” Caspian said. “Far. Somewhere forgotten.”

“And when her power shows itself again?” Theron shook his head. “You can’t hide something like that. The Black Wolves will feel it. They always do.”

“They’ll come looking,” Aldric said.

“Then keep her here,” another councilor said. “Where no one can reach her in the dungeons.”

Caspian turned sharply. “For how long?”

No one answered.

Another councilor cleared his throat. “There is… another option.”

Aldric stopped pacing. “Say it.”

“A failed awakening,” the man said quietly. “Too much power. Too young. She didn’t survive.”

The words sat there, ugly and heavy.

Caspian stood. “You’re talking about murdering his daughter.”

“I’m talking about preserving an empire,” the councilor replied. “Against one girl.”

Aldric didn’t look at either of them. He moved to the window instead. Looked out at the city. At everything he ruled.

Twenty years ago, he had made a choice.

He’d told himself it was necessary.

And now it was happening again. Through his own blood.

“She stays in the dungeons,” Aldric said at last. “No one speaks her name. No one acknowledges she lives.”

Theron hesitated. “And if the Black Wolves learn the truth?”

“They won’t,” Aldric said. His jaw tightened. “As far as the world is concerned, Princess Sierralya died during her awakening.”

No one argued. No one spoke. Chairs scraped against stone. Someone coughed. Another avoided Aldric’s eyes entirely. The room felt larger and emptier at the same time.

Aldric stayed where he was.

He pressed his hands to the edge of the table and stared down at the polished surface, at the faint scratches left behind by decades of arguments and decisions. He told himself this was necessary. He told himself he had done worse before, and the empire had survived because of it.

Still, the name echoed in his head.

Sierralya.

He pushed away from the table and crossed the room, stopping at the window. From here, the palace grounds looked calm. Orderly. As if nothing beneath them was rotting. As if there weren’t things buried so deep even he pretended not to remember them.

“She’s my daughter,” he said aloud, to no one.

The words didn’t change anything.

“Dismissed.”

The councilors filed out slowly. When the doors finally closed, he was left with just Caspian.

Sierralya

The stairs were old. Narrow. Damp.

Kael Blackthorne took them two at a time.

The bond wasn’t subtle anymore. It wasn’t a pull. It was a scream.

Close. Mine.

Torches lined the corridor below. Cells stretched out in rows.

And then—light.

Not torchlight. Something else.

Kael stopped at the bars.

There I was.

We spoke at the same time.

“You’re Black Wolf,” I said, breathless.

“And you’re White Wolf,” he answered. “Princess Sierralya Ainsworth.”

My eyes widened. “How did you…”

“I was close enough to hear your father’s counsel,” Kael said. “They were deciding what to do with you.”

My hands tightened on the bars. “What… what did they say?”

“Some want you gone. Some want you buried down here forever.” He didn’t look away. “One suggested you die quietly. An accident.”

My face was drained of color.

“They think it’s the prophecy,” he whispered. “They’re afraid you are it.”

Footsteps echoed above us. Voices. Shouting.

Kael didn’t flinch. “I can get you out. But if you come with me, there’s no pretending after this. Your family will hunt you.”

“And if I stay?”

“Then you wait. And see whether your father chooses chains or a grave.”

I looked around the cell. The stone. The dark. The future waiting for me there.

“Why?” I asked. “Why help me?”

Kael hesitated. Just a second. “Because you’re my mate. And the prophecy, —” He stopped. “Decide. Now.”

The noise above us grew louder.

“Get me out,” I said.

Kael tore the bars apart like they were paper.

He held out his hand.

I took it.

The bond hit us both at once. Too much. Too fast.

A shout rang out. “INTRUDERS!”

Kael pulled me close. “Can you fight?”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then stay behind me.”

I glanced past him. “There’s someone else.”

Kael followed my gaze. Another cell. An old wolf. Scarred. Watching like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“Can you fight?” Kael asked.

Darius smiled. Sharp. Dangerous. "Give me a weapon.”

Kael broke those bars too.

Footsteps thundered closer.

“Move,” Kael said.

King Aldric

An aide burst into the chamber. “Your Majesty—the dungeons—”

Aldric turned. “What about them?”

“There has been a breach. Black Wolves.”

The room erupted.

“The princess…”

Aldric was already moving. “Seal the palace! Close the gates! No one leaves.”

Caspian grabbed his arm. “And if she goes with them willingly?”

“Then the prophecy starts,” Aldric said. Cold. Certain.

He tore his sword from the wall. “Bring her back alive. Kill anyone who stands in the way.”

Because if his daughter was going to be condemned, it would be by his hand.

Not theirs.