She was seven years old when the fortune teller gripped her hand and ruined her life. “The man who weds you will not see the next dawn,” the glass-eyed woman had said. “Your love is a beautiful poison, little bird. Guard it well.
”
Sonia Farrow had guarded it. She kept herself distant, professional, useful. She became the Alpha King’s personal secretary, skilled enough that no one looked too closely at her personal life. The fact that she was secretly in love with King Alpheus Vale was her own private torture, a wound she tended in silence.
He barely knew she existed. Until the masquerade ball. The enchanted masks she’d ordered herself hid everything, face, voice, scent, but not the fact that the king was spectacularly drunk. She found herself dragging him toward the gardens before anyone noticed.
He looked at her with delight, a novelty in itself. “How did you know it was me? ” he asked. “Lucky guess.
”
He accepted this easily, too drunk to question it. “How come I’ve never seen you before? ”
“Maybe I’m someone you can’t stand. ”
His eyes widened with genuine alarm.
“Oh gods, are you Lady Margaret? ”
Sonia laughed, startled into joy. She couldn’t help it. The fearsome king was being ridiculous and adorable and completely unguarded.
In the moonlit garden, he stumbled and they crashed against the wall together, his body pressed against hers, his face inches away. He was apologetic and clumsy and utterly charming. Then his fingers found a curl that had escaped her pins, tucking it behind her ear with devastating gentleness. “May I?
” he asked. She knew she should say no. He was drunk. He didn’t know who she was.
But she’d been swallowing her feelings for months, years, and she was so tired. “Yes. ”
His kiss was soft and careful. She kissed him back with everything she’d been holding in, all the desperate, foolish longing she’d buried.
He made a startled, pleased sound against her mouth. “Come with me,” he said roughly. “My chambers. ”
One night, she told herself.
One perfect, terrible, stolen night with the man she loved. What happened after was everything she’d never let herself imagine. He was generous, attentive, utterly focused on her pleasure. She kept the mask on, half thrill, half shield.
He reached for it once, but when she turned away, he kissed her shoulder instead and didn’t ask again. After, he pulled her against his chest and pressed his face into her hair. “Why are you worried? ” he mumbled, already half asleep.
“I can feel it. Stop worrying. Just stay. ”
But she couldn’t stay.
When his breathing evened out, she dressed in the dark and slipped out. In the corridor, she pressed her spine against the cold stone and took a shaking breath. “That was the exception,” she whispered. “That was absolutely the exception.
”
—
Alpheus woke with a headache that felt personal and a memory that didn’t. Fragments. Laughter. A woman in a mask.
The best night of his life. She was gone. Women didn’t leave him. He arranged exits, ended things gracefully.
He was the king. And she’d just vanished without a word. “A blue dress,” he told Ankhie. “She had dark hair.
She smelled nice. I need to find her. ”
Ankhie blinked. “Can you describe this woman further?
”
“She seemed to know me even with the mask. ”
“Your Majesty,” Ankhie said gently, “everyone knows who you are. ”
Alpheus closed his eyes, letting himself remember. Her laugh.
The way she’d kissed him, fearless and hungry. The fire in her. His wolf had been just as fixated on her as it was on Sonia. He sat up sharply, a grin breaking across his face despite the headache.
“Oh, that is such a relief. ”
“A relief, sire? ”
“Don’t you see? For months, all I’ve been able to think about is Sonia.
I was worried she might be my mate. But the woman at the ball made me feel the same pull. The mysterious masked woman must be my mate. ”
“The woman you’ve been searching for?
” Ankhie asked carefully. “Yes. My mate. Now find her.
”
—
Sonia arrived at her desk at her usual hour, in her usual clothes, with her usual expression, and proceeded to pretend absolutely nothing had happened. The king appeared at her door with a request: find the woman from the ball. “Is there anything else you can tell me about this person? ”
“Unfortunately not.
I’d had quite a lot to drink. I don’t remember much. ”
Her stomach dropped. She’d taken advantage of a drunk man.
She was a terrible person. Worse, Enki informed her, the king believed the woman was his mate. His mate. And he thought it was someone else.
Sonia spent the next weeks interviewing eligible women, eliminating candidates, trying to fake an investigation while keeping her own secret buried. She was the mystery woman. She knew he was searching for her. And every day she didn’t tell him the truth was another day she kept them both safe from the prophecy.
The interviews went badly. The king decided to help, sitting beside her while eligible women threw themselves at him. He flirted with them harmlessly, smiled warmly, asked pointed questions. “I don’t think it’s wise to ask them point-blank—”
“A dance, perhaps?
” the king asked Lady Ironwood, ignoring her completely. Something inside Sonia snapped. “That will be all. Thank you.
” She ushered the girl out. “You didn’t have to be so cold,” Alpheus said, frowning. “What did she ever do to you? ”
Sonia gaped at him.
“She was flustered because of you. As every lady here will be if you imply something happened between you. Because you’re the king. And they have eyes.
Which is what I would have told you if you’d bothered listening to me. ”
“And how do you tell me I’m being cold? You’re the coldest person I’ve ever met. Ever since we met, all you do is ignore me.
”
The king paled. “I’m sure that’s not true. ”
And suddenly it was unbearable. Because it was like he was admitting to it.
“You seemed to like me just fine at the ball,” she said. The words slipped out before she could stop them. His eyes searched hers, a blush creeping up his neck. “I don’t remember seeing you there.
I think I would have remembered. ”
Just then, the Duchess Mariana swept in. “Your Majesty. I’ve heard you were looking for me.
”
The spell broke. “I’m happy to announce you’ve found her,” the Duchess said, smiling. —
The Duchess Mariana was beautiful, confident, and determined to be queen. Alpheus tried to feel the pull that should have been there.
Nothing. Not a single stir of interest from his wolf. No instinct screaming mine. Something was wrong.
The Duchess had been a brunette, she explained. She’d worn a wig. She’d left because she wasn’t sure he wanted it as much as she did. The answers made sense.
They should have made sense. But nothing felt right. He tried to drown the confusion in wolfsbane liquor. When Sonya walked in, he was already several glasses in.
“What are you doing? ” she asked slowly. “I’m doing my utmost best to get drunk by dinner time. ”
“You don’t need to be drunk for that,” she snapped, grabbing his glass.
“Why would you even think something like that? ”
“Because it doesn’t feel right. The duchess says she’s the woman from the ball, but it doesn’t feel like she’s my mate. I was so certain at the ball.
Now I feel nothing. Am I going crazy? ”
He was lost, genuinely lost. And she was so close, her hand on his arm.
“Maybe give her a chance? Maybe she’s just being shy. ”
“Who do you mean? ”
“The duchess, sire.
”
He blinked, trying to focus. Her mouth. Gods, her mouth. “You really think I should give her a chance?
”
Her scent changed, sweetened. “No,” she said fiercely. “I don’t think the duchess is your mysterious lady. I think you should forget about her altogether.
She doesn’t deserve you. You deserve honesty. You deserve to be happy. ”
He kissed her.
One moment he was staring into her beautiful face, and the next his hand was in her hair and his mouth was on hers. She made a small, surprised sound, and then she was kissing him back like she was starving. Her thoughts flooded into him. I can’t believe he’s kissing me.
Don’t want to stop. The same connection he’d felt at the ball. The same flood of emotion. She kissed that spot below his ear, teeth grazing the skin.
The masked woman had done the exact same thing. The masked woman wasn’t the duchess. The masked woman was Sonya. And she was his mate.
She pulled away abruptly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I should go.
”
Then she ran. —
Sonia was an idiot. A complete and utter fool. She’d kissed the king.
Climbed into his lap in his office and kissed him like she was starving. She couldn’t tell him the truth. At worst, she’d be punished for lying about being married. At best—
At best, he would insist on marrying her anyway.
And then he would die. She could see it with horrible clarity. Alpheus cold on their marriage bed, his hand growing colder in hers, exactly like her brother’s had. She’d watched her brother die from the same kind of prophecy.
Sonia had been with him when the fortune teller spoke it. She’d laughed it off for months. Then he died three weeks before his eighteenth birthday, exactly as predicted. The prophecy was real.
When she walked into her office the next morning, Alpheus was waiting. “Can we talk? About what happened? ”
“It was nothing,” she said quickly.
“It wasn’t nothing. ” He moved closer, one hand reaching toward her. “It was everything to me. ”
“You were drunk.
”
“Not that drunk. I know it was you at the ball. I can feel your emotions, your thoughts, when we touch. The same connection.
It was you. You’re my mate, Sonia. Only you. ”
Panic flooded through her.
She tried to pull away, but he caught her hand. His fingers closed around hers, warm and sure. She confessed the prophecy, the fortune teller, her brother. He kissed her, promising it didn’t matter.
For one perfect moment, she let herself believe it. Then the vision slammed into her again. Alpheus, cold, lifeless. “I’m married,” she gasped.
“I made vows. I must respect them. ”
His face crumpled. “But surely that can’t be it—”
“I think it’s best if I transfer to another position.
So we can avoid any more encounters in the future. ”
Hope died in his eyes. His expression shuttered, going blank in a way she recognized from months of working for him. “If that’s what you want,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t. It was the furthest thing from what she wanted. But it was what would keep him alive. —
Enki came to see her off a month later, carrying a folded document.
It was a death certificate for Jonathan Bloomsbury, her fictional husband. Killed in action at the northern front, dated this very morning. Blessed with the royal seal. “I don’t understand,” she managed.
Enki smiled. “I looked into your husband, you see. Imagine my surprise when no one could find a single trace of him. No marriage certificate either.
But we’ve fixed that. Official wedding certificate, dated yesterday, between Sonia Sparrow and Jonathan Bloomsbury. Lucky we could formalize things before his tragic passing. ”
“Why help me?
”
He looked surprised. “Because His Majesty asked me to, of course. ”
The world stopped. “He asked me to look into your husband,” Enki explained.
“When I found out the truth, I assumed you wanted to avoid forced marriage. He concluded you used the fake husband as an excuse to avoid marrying him. He had me legitimize your union, then tragic battlefield death. These things happen in war.
”
Alpheus knew. He knew she’d lied, thought she’d rejected him, and he’d helped her anyway. “Though I suppose,” Enki added, “that was the quickest marriage in history. You only technically married him yesterday, and he didn’t even see the next dawn.
”
Sonia froze. “What did you just say? ”
“It almost sounds like a novel, doesn’t it? Like the first man you wed doesn’t even see the next dawn.
”
The first man. Not the man you wed. Not any man who marries you. The first.
It couldn’t be that simple. “Where is he? ” she demanded. “He’s probably at his engagement ball by now.
Announcing his future queen. ”
Sonia ran. She burst through the ballroom doors in her traveling clothes, hair a mess, breath ragged. On the dais, Alpheus held a champagne glass.
“I’d like to announce that I—”
“No! ” she screamed. The music stopped. Everyone turned to stare.
“Don’t marry her,” Sonia said, her voice breaking. “Whoever you’re going to marry, don’t. ”
“What are you doing here, Sonia? ”
“I came to tell you that I love you.
I was hoping you might reconsider your engagement. ”
“I lied to protect you,” she said, climbing the steps. “The prophecy. I was afraid if I married you, you’d die.
”
“You could have told me the truth,” Alpheus said, his voice rough. “Instead of making me believe you didn’t want me. ”
“I thought if I told you and you didn’t believe me, I wouldn’t be able to resist either. And I didn’t want to risk your life.
”
His expression softened. “Are you saying you feel the same way I do? ”
She took his hand, squeezing it, staring into his eyes. “Don’t get married.
”
Something like amusement flickered across his face. “Oh, I plan to get married. ”
Her heart plummeted. “To you, Sonia.
” He smiled, that rare, brilliant smile. “I’ll marry you. ”
And then he kissed her, his hands framing her face, in front of everyone. The ballroom erupted in applause.
—
The morning after their wedding, Sonia woke with her heart in her throat. Alpheus lay beside her perfectly still. Too still. Panic clawed at her chest.
She pressed her hand to his chest, and his heart beat steadily beneath her palm. Relief crashed over her so intensely she started crying. “Sonia? ” His eyes opened, concern flooding through their bond.
“What’s wrong? ”
“You’re alive. I woke up and you were so still and I thought—”
He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair. “I’m here, my love.
The prophecy was fulfilled, remember? Jonathan Bloomsbury didn’t see the dawn after your wedding. You’re safe. I’m safe.
”
“I know. I just—my brother—when we found him, he looked like he was sleeping at first. ”
“I’m not your brother. ” He tipped her face up gently.
“Three seers confirmed it. The prophecy was real, but it’s done. ”
She could feel him through the bond, alive and whole and certain. For the first time, she let herself believe it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know it’s irrational. ”
“It’s not irrational. You watched your brother die.
Of course you’re scared. ” He kissed her forehead. “But I’m still here. Still breathing.
Still completely obsessed with my wife. ”
She laughed wetly. “Your wife. ”
“My mate.
My queen. ” He punctuated each word with a kiss. “And I’m not going anywhere. ”
Through their bond, his love washed over her, steady and real.
“I can’t believe I ever thought you were cold,” she said. “I was cold. Had to be. You were driving me insane.
” He rolled on top of her, kissing her thoroughly. “Now that you’re mine, no more restraint. No more distance. No more hiding.
”
She felt everything he felt. Love. Contentment. Bone-deep satisfaction.
To think they’d almost lost each other because of her fear. Alpheus alive and warm and hers. Forever.
