The dream always began the same way. Golden fields stretching endlessly beneath a clear sky, springtime warmth on her face. The twin pups tumbled through tall grass, all small, fluffy bodies, yipping and wrestling before breaking apart to chase butterflies. And Elodie was beside her, hair catching the light like spun gold.
Her name was Josie now, but she was still her daughter. Lately, Bram had been in the dreams, too, standing at the edge of the meadow, watching over them all with those gold wolf eyes. It didn’t feel wrong to find him there. But then the sky would darken all at once, as if someone had snuffed out the sun.
Tristan’s face appeared, godlike and terrible, exactly as he’d loomed over her during those twelve years he held her captive. His hand reached down and casually plucked the twins from the grass while they screamed. And she tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. Tried to shift, but her wolf was locked away.
She was always helpless, chained to the iron ring in her cell again. Nezarin woke up gasping, her shift soaked with sweat despite the pre-dawn cold. For a terrible moment, she didn’t know where she was. Her hands flew to her throat, feeling for the collar that wasn’t there anymore.
She forced herself to focus on something real, the rough canvas of the tent wall, the soft breathing of her children sleeping nearby. Not the cell. Not anymore. But the screams of the twins echoed in her mind still, and Bram’s own howl etched like a splinter in her memory.
She pushed herself upright and reached for her cloak with shaking hands. Outside, the war camp sprawled before her in shades of gray. Thousands of soldiers were sleeping or standing watch, an army waiting for her command to march south toward Tristan, toward war. Two weeks since Josie had brought the children home.
Two weeks since she’d believed her war was won. She’d raised this army to get her kids back, and she’d succeeded. The twins slept safely in her tent. Josie was here, no longer a stranger but her daughter for all to behold.
She had everything she’d fought for. So why did her general still sharpen weapons? Why did she stand here at dawn, staring south like the war wasn’t finished? Because Tristan was still out there.
And some part of her, the part that had spent twelve years in his dungeons, that had borne his children while chained to prevent shifting, that had listened to infant Josie cry floors above while forbidden to comfort her, that part wanted him to pay. But another part, newer and more fragile, whispered, “You have them. Isn’t that enough? ”
She pulled her cloak tighter and continued toward the medical tent.
Her children didn’t need to be there anymore, but she preferred it that way. She didn’t want to scare them with her night terrors. The twins always woke with the sun, restless and demanding. Josie still startled awake sometimes.
They needed her present, not standing at the edge of camp wrestling with ghosts. The tent was still dark when she slipped inside. Someone was there. A figure crouched beside the twins, carefully tucking a blanket that had slipped from Veto’s small wolf form.
The pup stirred, made a small whimpering sound, and the figure’s large, scarred hand stroked the pup’s head with infinite gentleness until Veto settled back into sleep. Then the figure moved to check on Josie, adjusting her blanket too, careful and protective. Bram. This dangerous rogue wolf, this man who’d killed Tristan’s trackers with his bare hands to save her children, was still watching over them.
Bram’s head snapped up. His gold eyes found hers in the darkness. For a heartbeat, neither moved. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly, his voice rough with exhaustion.
“Thought I’d check on them. ”
Her throat was tight. “Thank you. ”
His eyes were steady on hers.
“Only right. After everything we went through. ”
Silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable exactly, but charged.
Finally, Bram glanced back toward camp. “Your generals are getting restless. They want to know when we march. ”
“I know,” she replied.
“I’ll join the fight soon. ”
His voice held an edge of eagerness. “We could move within days. Strike before he’s prepared.
Josie is eager for us to rescue that Paula woman. ”
“Bram—” she interrupted gently. “Love, we need to end him,” he murmured. “Not just for what he did to you, for every shifter he’s broken or murdered.
Like my brother. ”
The passion in his voice stirred something in Nezarin. But looking at Bram now, at the barely contained violence in his stance, she felt something else entirely. A desire, a want.
And wanting scared her. Tristan had been gentle once, too, in the beginning, before they’d mated. And look how that had ended. Twelve years in a cell, five miscarriages, her daughter taken from her arms and raised as a servant, her sons used as leverage to keep her compliant.
Bram took a step closer and her breath caught. His scent washed over her, pine and leather and something wild that made every nerve in her body come alive. “We end him,” he said. She looked away.
“No. ”
The word came out sharper than she intended. Bram blinked. “What?
”
“I said no. ” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Love—”
“I know what Tristan is,” she cried out. “I survived him for twelve years while you were—” She cut herself off, breathing hard.
The hurt that flashed across his face made her chest constrict with guilt. “While I was what? ” His voice was quiet. She shook her head.
She couldn’t stand feeling his pull and fighting it, wanting him and hating herself for wanting him. “War tent,” she said, forcing steel into her voice. “One hour. Assemble the generals.
”
Bram frowned. “Why? What are you—” “Just do it,” she commanded. “One hour.
”
She strode toward the command tents before he could respond, her back rigid, her hands clenched into fists at her sides to hide their trembling. She didn’t look back. If she did, she might turn around and do something foolish. Chapter 2.
The war tent was already filling when they arrived. The tension shifted as she entered. General Ko stepped forward, his weathered face creased with concern. “Your Majesty, has there been news from the south?
Is Tristan moving? ”
“New news from Tristan,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “This is about our movements. ”
“We’re ready to march at your command,” a younger general named Veric said, eagerness practically radiating off him.
“Just say the word—”
“We will not be marching,” she announced. “I’m calling off the war. We’re disbanding half the army and going home. ”
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then the tent erupted. “Your Majesty, you can’t be serious! ”
“We came all this way, and now you want us to just go home without a fight? ”
General Ko’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Respectfully, your Majesty, we raised this army to finish Tristan off. To end his tyranny once and for all. ”
“I raised this army to get my children back,” she corrected. “And we succeeded.
Josie and the twins are safe. That was the goal. ”
“The goal was to remove a monster from power. ” Veric slammed his fist on the table.
“My men left their families and homes to fight this war, and you’re telling us to walk away? ”
A grizzled warrior spoke up. “We deserve blood for what that bastard did to you, your Majesty. Every man and woman in this camp has lost someone to Tristan’s cruelty.
”
Her chest tightened with guilt. “I empathize with your anger. But I won’t needlessly sacrifice more lives to this man. ”
“What about Paula?
” another voice called out. “You’d abandon her to that monster after she saved Josie? ”
Her release will be negotiated, she said, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears. “As part of a peace treaty.
”
The laughter that erupted was disbelieving. “Peace treaty? ” Veric asked. “Tristan wouldn’t know how to honor a peace treaty if you led him by the nose.
”
“Peace must be attempted before I march my children into a war zone. ”
“Your children are guarded by the best the north can offer,” Ko said, his usual deference cracking. “Enough,” she snapped. “This army answered to my call.
I shall not send them to die while I cower behind them. ”
“So, your solution is abandonment? ” Veric asked, his voice dripping with contempt. “Is choosing my children’s future over revenge abandonment?
”
“It’s cowardice. ”
The word fell into the tent like a stone into still water. Bram stood near the back, his arms crossed, his expression harder than she’d ever seen it. Their eyes met across the crowded space and something in her chest constricted painfully.
“Bram, please—”
“You’re afraid,” he said. “But retreating won’t keep your children safe. It’ll just delay the inevitable. ”
“You don’t know that.
”
“Yes, I do, and so do you. Tristan will never let this go. You humiliated him by escaping, by taking his heirs. He’ll come for them eventually.
Peace treaty or not. ”
“Again, this is speculation. There’s a chance—”
“There’s no chance. Not with him.
Men like Tristan don’t forgive. They don’t forget. They take until there’s nothing left to take. ” Bram stared at her, something fierce and frustrated burning in his expression.
“I’d taken you for a leader, not the frightened prisoner he tried to make you. ”
She felt her face go hot. “Get out. ”
Bram straightened.
“Get out,” she pointed at the tent entrance, her hand shaking. “Everyone out now, except my senior counsel. ”
The generals exchanged glances but didn’t move. Her voice cracked like a whip.
They filed out slowly, casting worried looks over their shoulders. Bram was the last to turn toward the exit. For a moment, she thought he might argue, but he just looked at her disappointedly and left. The tent felt cavernous with only her four senior council members remaining.
Veric spoke first. “Your Majesty, we can’t condone this course of action. We must—”
“No. ” She straightened her spine.
“I’ve made my decision. I’m disbanding half the army. The rest will remain as guards for the camp until we negotiate peace terms with Tristan. I’m sending envoys south within the week.
They’ll carry terms for a treaty, territory division, trade agreements, and Paula’s immediate release. ”
Ko sighed. “And if Tristan refuses? ”
“He won’t,” she stated shortly.
The silence that met this statement was answer enough. She pushed forward anyway, filling the silence with plans and strategies and anything that kept her from thinking about Bram’s words. The frightened prisoner he tried to make you. She wasn’t frightened.
She was being strategic, choosing her children’s safety over her own desire for revenge. By the time she dismissed her council, the sun had fully risen. She stood alone in the war tent, staring down at the map covered in her notes, trying to ignore the way her chest felt hollow and tight all at once. She’d done the right thing.
She had, hadn’t she? Nezarin found Josie awake in the medical tent, sitting cross-legged on her pallet with the twins nestled against her. Veto and Theon were in their wolf forms, small fluffy bundles of dark fur pressed into Josie’s sides. Her daughter looked up as she entered, her young face composed but tired.
“So, we’re not fighting the king? ” she asked softly. Her chest tightened with guilt. “You weren’t meant to hear that.
”
Josie shrugged. “You really think he’ll accept peace? ”
She settled beside her daughter. Immediately, Theon’s nose twitched and his golden eyes blinked open.
He let out a small, sleepy yip and scrambled over Josie’s lap to reach her, his puppy body clumsy with exhaustion. She gathered him close, and he burrowed against her chest, already half asleep again, his small tongue darting out to lick her fingers in drowsy affection. The simple trust in the gesture made her throat tight. “I just want us to be safe,” she said quietly, stroking his soft fur.
“We’ve only just found each other. I don’t want to risk losing you all over again. ”
Josie nodded, her finger buried in Veto’s fur. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet moments with her children that had been denied to them for thirteen years.
This was worth protecting. “Paula used to do this,” Josie said quietly. “When the other servants weren’t watching. ”
Her hands stilled.
The name sent a complex wave of emotion through her chest. Gratitude so profound it ached, and beneath it, grief. “You must miss her,” she murmured. Josie’s voice was soft, distant with memory.
“She was the only one who was kind to me. Everyone else used to call me worthless because I couldn’t shift. They’d throw things at me sometimes, or trip me. ”
Her throat burned with suppressed emotion.
Thirteen years her daughter had endured that cruelty while she lay chained in a cell floors below, helpless. And Paula had been there. Paula had protected her, comforted her, saved Josie in ways she never could have from that cell. “She always told me I mattered,” Josie continued.
“That was nice. ”
“She’s right, you know,” she whispered, setting down the comb to wrap her arms around Josie from behind. “You matter to me more than anything in this world. ”
Josie leaned back into her embrace.
“I promise you,” she said, her voice thick. “I’ll bring her home. ”
Veto woke at that moment, stretching with a huge yawn that showed all his tiny puppy teeth. He blinked at them sleepily, then wiggled his way over to press his cold nose against her free hand, demanding attention.
She laughed wetly and obliged, scratching behind his ears while he made pleased little sounds. Josie turned in her arms, her eyes searching her face. “And if the king refuses to let her go? ”
“He won’t.
” She cupped her daughter’s face. Josie studied her for a long moment, then glanced down at Theon. “Bram seems angry,” she said. The sudden subject change made her hands still.
“What makes you say that? ”
“I don’t know. I feel like he wants to start an argument and hug you at the same time. ”
She laughed.
“It’s complicated, my love. ”
“I hope he stays,” Josie said quietly, but her tone carried weight. Not quite a request, but close. A need, maybe.
The words settled uncomfortably in her chest. Josie had already lost so much. She needed people who wouldn’t leave. Paula, who’d been her constant for thirteen years, and Bram, who’d proven he’d stay even when things were hard.
“Bram cares about us, doesn’t he? ”
She didn’t have an answer to that. Tomorrow she would send the envoys against the advice of all her generals and Bram. And it was Bram’s disapproval that weighed most heavily.
Chapter 3. Two weeks had passed since she sent her envoy south. With half her army gone, the camp felt almost empty. Bram remained.
He still trained soldiers in the yard and attended council meetings, continued to check on the children, but they hadn’t spoken since she’d taken her decision. Nothing beyond professional courtesy. He wasn’t exactly hostile, just absent. And she hadn’t banked on the ache his absence left.
Somehow that hurt worse than his anger would have. On the fourteenth night, a storm rolled in from the north. She was already awake when the first crack of thunder split the sky. Another crack, louder this time.
The tent lit up white with lightning, and the twins started screaming like in her dream, high-pitched yips of pure terror as they shifted involuntarily to wolf pups. She scrambled over, scooping them into her arms. “Shh, my darlings. It’s okay.
It’s just a storm. ”
Thunder crashed again and Veto’s yipping reached a fever pitch. Theon tried to burrow under her arm, his whole body shaking. Josie scrambled over, gathering Veto in shaking but confident hands.
She began to sing, her voice thin but steady at first, the lullaby Paula had taught her. But her voice wavered and cracked as thunder crashed overhead, and the twins only screamed louder. Josie’s singing dissolved into a choked sob. “It’s all right,” she said quickly.
“They’re just scared. It’s not your fault. ”
For the first time since she’d brought the twins home, her singing hadn’t worked. The one thing she could do for them.
Another boom of thunder shook the ground. The tent flap burst open. Bram stood there, rain soaked and breathing hard, water streaming down his face and neck, his tunic plastered to his chest and shoulders. His gold eyes took in the scene immediately, the screaming pups, Josie’s tears, her barely controlled panic.
He came. Despite the distance between them, despite everything, he’d heard them and come. Wordlessly, he moved toward them. He knelt beside them without hesitation, his large frame somehow making the tent feel both smaller and safer at once.
He held his arms out. She placed Theon into his large hands, and he tucked the trembling pup against his broad chest with surprising gentleness. “That’s a set of lungs on a tiny pipsqueak there,” he grunted with a chuckle. The storm raged outside, but Bram began to hum, a low, steady thrum that reverberated from deep in his chest.
She felt it vibrating in her own body, felt her own tension ease from her shoulders. It was primal, that sound, the kind of rumble that spoke to something ancient in her wolf. Safe, protected, home. Theon’s whimpering quieted slightly.
She adjusted her hold on Veto, following Bram’s lead, and began to hum too, matching his rhythm. Veto’s frantic struggling started to ease. Then Bram began to sing. It was a lullaby she didn’t know, the cadence and words simple and old.
In his rough voice, low and sure, it melted the remaining fear from the tent like warmth melting frost. She joined him on the second verse, their voices blending seamlessly in the darkness, a perfect fusion of bass and soprano. She’d never sung with anyone like this. Their eyes caught in the darkness, deep brown meeting gold, and she saw a smile cross his features before he returned his attention to the child.
But that brief connection had sent heat racing down her spine. By the time the song ended, both pups had gone limp in their arms, breathing evening out as they slipped toward sleep. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Reckon you were doing all right,” he said gently.
Josie spoke from her pallet, her voice small and guilty. “I’m sorry. Normally I can calm them down, but—”
Bram turned to her and squeezed her shoulder supportively. “You stayed with them, kid.
That’s what matters. ”
“But I did nothing—”
“Josie,” she shifted Veto carefully so she could reach out to her daughter. “Sometimes storms are just too big. That doesn’t mean you failed.
”
Bram nodded in agreement. “One bad storm don’t change how the pups feel about you, love. ”
Josie wiped her eyes, but she was nodding. “I just want to be good enough.
”
“You are,” they both said in unison. Their eyes met over the children’s heads, and for a moment, the careful distance between them dissolved. They were just two people trying to comfort scared children, a unit, a team, something that felt dangerously like a family. Eventually, Josie’s breathing evened out into sleep.
She carefully transferred both pups to their beds, and Bram helped settle blankets over all three children, their movements synchronized, natural. His hand brushed hers as they both reached to tuck the same blanket. “I’ll be going then,” Bram said quietly, but he didn’t move toward the entrance. “Stay,” Nezarin asked.
“Please, until the storm passes. ”
Bram looked at her for a long moment, something conflicted crossing his features. “I know you think I’m making a mistake with the peace treaty,” she went on. “But right now, I just need you to stay.
”
His expression softened, and he took a step closer instead of toward the door. In the dim light of the tent, with rain drumming overhead and the children sleeping peacefully nearby, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. “I’m not angry,” he said quietly. “Two weeks of silence isn’t angry.
”
“You’re right,” Bram sighed. “I felt it wiser to keep distance. ”
“Wiser for who? ”
“For the both of us.
” He shrugged. “Being near you, it’s not simple. ”
The admission hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. She understood what he meant.
Felt it herself. This pull between them that made everything more complicated and yet somehow clearer at the same time. “I’m still going through with the peace treaty,” she told him. “I don’t like it,” he said.
“Tristan is likely to treat it as an opportunity to twist it against you. ” He stopped, his jaw working. “But I’ll stand by you. ”
“That’s different from respecting a decision I think will get you killed.
”
Despite everything, she felt her own lips twitch. “At least that’s honest. ”
They stood in silence for a long moment, just listening to the rain and the children’s soft breathing. “Why would you stay?
” she asked quietly. “If you think I’m wrong? ”
“I made a promise,” he said, gesturing to the sleeping children. “To her, Josie, and the twins.
I stand by them whatever happens. ” He paused, took a step closer to her. “And whether you like it or not, you’re part of them. ”
“What if I did like it?
” she whispered. The question slipped out before she could stop it, and she saw Bram go very still. He took a step toward her, then another. “If you did like it,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower.
“Then I’d count myself lucky. ”
The words sent warmth flooding through her chest, and her wolf stirred, pushing against her consciousness with a certainty that took her breath away. “You make it sound simple,” she murmured. “It is simple,” he said.
“You’re the complicated part. ”
“Is that so wrong? ”
“No. ” He shook his head slightly.
“But I don’t need protecting. ”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back up, and she felt it like a physical touch. His hand came up slowly, giving her time to pull away. His fingers brushed her jaw, rough calluses against soft skin.
The lightest touch, but it sent heat racing through her entire body. “You,” he breathed. She started to lean in, didn’t even realize she was doing it until she saw his eyes darken further. Then the tent flap burst open.
“Your Majesty. ” A soldier stood there, soaked. “Urgent news. The envoy has returned from the south.
She requests an immediate audience. King Tristan has sent his response. ”
“Has he agreed to negotiate? ” she asked, her heart lurching.
The soldier hesitated, his eyes darting between her and Bram. “King Tristan is willing to consider peace terms. He will negotiate territory division, trade agreements, and Paula’s release. ”
Relief and disbelief flooded through her so powerfully she had to force herself not to grip the nearest surface.
He agreed. “On one condition, your Majesty,” the soldier grimaced. “He requires that you personally come to the palace in person for a formal treaty signing ceremony. He says it must be public, witnessed by both kingdoms to legitimize the peace.
”
She felt the blood drain from her face. The palace. Twelve years of captivity came flooding back. The cell, the chains, the iron ring, Tristan’s cold eyes watching her break.
He wants me to go back. Chapter 4. The field was still soaked from the night storm, water pooling in the grass, turning the ground soft beneath her boots. She’d chosen this location deliberately, an open stretch of land far from any tent or structure where voices might carry.
Her senior council stood in a loose circle around her. General Ko, Veric, Tyra, and two others. Bram stood apart from the others, his arms crossed and his expression already dark. “You’ve had time to consider Tristan’s terms,” General Ko opened.
“I will journey to the palace as Tristan requested,” she said. “I think it might be our only chance to get Paula back. ”
A nearby crow cawed loudly in the ensuing silence. Her advisers glanced at each other anxiously.
“It’s obviously a trap, your Majesty,” Veric pointed out. “Obviously,” Bram’s voice cut through, flat and certain. She flinched. After last night’s tenderness, after the way he’d held Theon and sung to her children, the harsh certainty in his tone felt like a door slamming shut.
“We don’t know that,” she countered, though her voice lacked conviction. “Tristan waits till you’ve disbanded half your army, then demands a ceremony that forces you onto his turf. ” He cocked a bushy eyebrow. “Sounds like a trap to me.
”
“The timing is convenient,” Ko agreed. “We’ve been negotiating for weeks, and suddenly, the moment we’re at our weakest, Tristan agrees to everything. ”
“What if he genuinely wants peace? ” she reasoned.
“If we withdraw our forces, he retains his kingdom without a struggle. ”
“You have his boys,” Bram said immediately. “An alpha like that don’t forgive too easy. And you’ve taken a lot more than his boys from under his nose.
Pride. You humiliated him, escaped his clutches, made him look weak before his entire kingdom. He’ll be wanting his heirs back. ”
“So what?
” she asked, her voice hardening. “We storm the palace and start the war I’ve been trying desperately to avoid? ”
“Better than blundering into a trap with open arms,” Veric said bluntly. “A war would cost hundreds of lives,” she snapped.
“If you get caught and used as some bargaining chip,” Bram shot back. “It’ll cost heaps more. ”
The words hung heavy in the damp air. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite her cloak.
Last night he’d touched her face with such gentleness. Had almost kissed her. And now they were here again on opposite sides of an impossible decision. “I can’t abandon Paula,” she said quietly.
“She saved Josie. ”
“Your Majesty, we understand the debt you feel,” said Ko. “But delivering yourself to Tristan won’t repay it. ”
Tyra stepped closer.
“If I may speak plainly, your Majesty. This feels less like strategy and more like guilt. ”
“That’s not—”
“I reckon it is,” Bram interrupted. His voice had lost its edge, replaced by something gentler but no less firm.
“Getting yourself killed will just create new guilt for everyone you leave behind. ”
“So, you’re all saying I should refuse? Abandon the woman who saved my daughter? ”
“We’re saying you should live,” Ko said firmly.
“Find another path. Any other path that doesn’t involve walking back into Tristan’s hands. ”
“And if there is no other path? I don’t see you suggesting a brilliant solution.
”
Silence fell across the circle. The wind picked up, sending water droplets flying from tree branches. “If you go,” Bram said quietly. “Then I’ll be coming with you.
”
Her heart lurched. He meant it. After everything, after knowing it was a trap, he would walk into danger with her. For her.
“No,” she started, but the word came out weak. “You don’t walk into that palace alone,” Bram said. The protectiveness in his tone sent warmth flooding through her despite the cold. “Bram, if it is a trap, I won’t have you caught in it, too.
”
“Then don’t go,” he said simply. Suddenly he was there, close enough that she could see the worry etched in the lines around his eyes. His hand came up to cup her elbow, a gentle touch, grounding, steady. “Stay here.
Stay safe,” he murmured. His thumb brushed against the inside of her elbow, and even through her sleeve, she felt it like a brand. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t abandon her.
”
Something in his expression cracked. Not anger, but something rawer. Fear, maybe. “What of your children?
They just got you back, and you’re already talking about throwing yourself into the lion’s jaws. ”
“I’m trying to end this. We need peace. ”
“There is no peace in him,” Bram shouted.
“We’ll just be giving him what he wants. ”
The raw honesty in his voice silenced her. She stared up at him, seeing the fear beneath the anger. “You don’t have to prove anything,” Bram said more softly.
“Not to me, not to anyone. You’re enough. You’re doing enough. ”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears.
“I need to talk to my children,” she said hollowly. “They deserve to know what’s happening. ”
Bram’s hand fell away from her face, and she immediately felt the loss of his warmth. “Then talk to them.
But if you decide to go, I’m coming. That’s not a request or a suggestion. It’s what’s happening. ”
She nodded once, not trusting her voice.
Twelve years in captivity had taught her to associate that kind of declaration with control, with possession. But Bram’s certainty hadn’t felt like that. It had felt like protection, like partnership. “Nezarin,” he said quietly as she turned to leave.
She stopped but didn’t turn back. “Whatever you decide, I meant what I said. You don’t walk into that palace alone. ”
“And if we both get captured?
” she asked, her voice barely audible. A pause. “Then at least we’re together. ”
The words hung in the cold morning air, and she felt her chest tighten.
She wanted to turn around, wanted to tell him that his words mattered. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she didn’t know what she was going to decide.
Chapter 5. In the small hours before departure, she lay in her tent, memorizing the sound of her children’s breathing. When she dozed off, the dream assailed her again, the one where Tristan appeared, took everything she held dear, and tossed her in the dungeon all over again. Eventually she threw off her blankets and slipped outside.
The camp was quiet except for the night watch. She found herself staring south. A day’s ride. That’s all that separated her from the palace that still haunted her dreams.
She thought of her children’s reactions to the news. Worse than expected. She’d gathered them in her tent that afternoon, settling on the floor with the twins in her lap and Josie beside her. “The king, your father, has agreed to make peace, but he wants me to come to the palace to sign the treaty.
”
The silence that followed was deafening. Then Josie’s face crumbled. “No,” Josie scrambled to her feet, shaking. “You can’t go back there.
You promised you wouldn’t leave us again. ”
The twins picked up on her distress immediately. Veto started to whimper. Theon pressed harder against her chest, his small hands fisting in her tunic.
“It’s just for the ceremony,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “A few days at most, and when I come back, Paula will be with me. The war will be over. ”
“What if it’s a trick?
What if you don’t come back? ”
She reached for her daughter, but Josie pulled away, tears streaming down her face. “Of course I’m coming back. I swear it.
”
“You can’t promise that,” Josie whispered. And she was right. She couldn’t. Because if this was the trap they all believed it to be, Tristan would ensure that it was foolproof.
She held them tightly, rocked them gently. “Bram will keep me safe,” she said quietly. Josie pulled back slightly, her eyes red and swollen. “How do you know?
”
Because of the way he’d looked at her in that muddy field. Because he’d said, “Then at least we’re together. ” Like being captured alongside her was preferable to safety without her. “I just know,” she said.
She stayed with them until they’d cried themselves into exhaustion. The twins fell asleep in her lap, and Josie’s breathing evened out against her shoulder. Only then did she carefully extract herself and slip outside. You should be resting.
She turned to find Bram approaching in the darkness. He came to stand beside her, close enough that their arms nearly touched. The air felt so charged that she was amazed their proximity didn’t spark. “The twins cried for an hour after you told them,” he said quietly.
“Josie longer? ”
Guilt twisted in her chest. “You heard? ”
“They’re afraid,” Bram said.
“They don’t get why you’d want to go back there. ”
“It’s for their good,” she whispered. “They don’t know that, though. ” He was quiet for a moment.
“It’s not too late to change your mind. ”
“We ride at dawn. ”
“Then we need to talk about what happens when things go wrong,” he said flatly. “If things go wrong,” she argued, lifting her chin.
“When,” he corrected, his voice firm. “We’ll need a plan for getting you out. ”
Despite the fear coiling in her stomach, she felt reassured by the fact that he wasn’t trying to talk her out of going anymore. “Whatever happens,” Bram said, “if I say run, you run.
Don’t wait. You just go. ”
Her jaw clenched, annoyance flaring hot in her chest. “I’m not leaving you,” she said.
“Because if it comes down to getting you out or both of us dying, I’m choosing you every time. You are my queen. ”
They faced each other in the darkness, and she saw the absolute conviction in his gold-flecked eyes. The way he said “my queen,” fierce and possessive and protective all at once, sent heat racing down her spine despite her anger.
“I won’t leave you,” she said quietly. Bram stepped closer. “Nezarin, promise me. ” His hand came up to rest on her shoulder, warm and solid.
“Only if you promise the same,” she countered, reaching up to wrap her fingers around his wrist. “That’s not—”
“Then we have a problem,” she lifted her chin. “Because I’m not promising to abandon you any more than you’d abandon me. ”
Something flickered in his expression, frustration melting into something softer.
His other hand came up slowly, his fingers brushing her jaw just like they had after the storm. “You’re impossible,” he whispered. “So are you,” she replied, her voice barely audible. Their breath melded together in the night air.
She could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wanted to argue with her and kiss her in equal measure. “Your Majesty,” a voice called from the camp. “It’s time to go. ”
She forced her voice steady.
“We’ll be right there. ”
The soldier bowed and retreated. Alone again, they stood in charged silence. Neither of them moved.
His hand still cupped her jaw. “We should—” she started. “Sure,” Bram agreed. Neither of them moved for a long moment, just looking at each other in the darkness like they were trying to memorize each other’s faces.
Later, she stood at the edge of camp, watching her small honor guard assemble. Eight warriors chosen for skill and loyalty, Bram at their head, his face set in grim determination. Eight against an entire palace. Her children stood nearby, the twins as wolf pups clinging to Josie’s legs.
Her daughter’s face was pale but set with determination. “I love you,” she whispered, pressing kisses to each of their heads. “I love you so much. ”
“Please be careful,” Josie managed, her voice breaking.
She held them until Bram cleared his throat gently. She had only just got them back, and now she was leaving them again. To ride directly into the lion’s den. But peace always came at a high price.
They rode through the day in tense silence. The landscape changed gradually, the wild northern territories giving way to cultivated fields and maintained roads. Signs of Tristan’s kingdom. By late afternoon, the palace appeared on the horizon.
Her breath caught. No matter how many months or years she put between herself and Tristan’s palace, it would never be enough. “Breathe,” Bram’s voice was solid. She realized she was holding her breath.
“You survived twelve years in there. Reckon you can survive a few days? ”
She nodded, but her vision started to blur. “Nezarin, look at me.
” Bram’s voice cut through the panic. She turned her head. “You aren’t alone,” he said firmly. “I’m right here.
”
The words steadied her. Just enough. They rode through the outer gates, the spikes of the portcullis sliding by overhead. Palace guards lined the courtyard, watching emotionlessly.
The great doors opened, and there he was at the top of the steps. Tristan. Tall, handsome, every inch the powerful Alpha King. Golden hair, strong jaw.
He smiled as they approached, warm and welcoming. But when his eyes met hers, they were empty. “Queen Nezarin,” he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard, his tongue lingering on the word queen. “Welcome home.
”
The word “home” stabbed between her ribs. She dismounted on shaking legs, feeling Bram immediately at her side. Tristan descended the steps with measured grace. He lifted her hand in the formal greeting, bowing over it like a courtier.
His touch made her skin crawl. “Please come inside,” Tristan gestured lavishly. “Refreshments have been prepared while we discuss the treaty terms. ”
His hand remained on hers.
She pulled it away. Was that a glint in his eyes or her imagination? Tristan gestured toward the doors. Her feet wouldn’t move.
She stood frozen, staring up at the entrance that had swallowed her whole before. Bram’s hand pressed against her lower back, gentle but firm. I’m here. She forced herself to walk through the doors, into the palace that had been her prison.
The doors closed behind them with a sound like thunder. A ceremonial table had been set up at the center of the throne room with two ornate chairs and the treaty document laid out between them. Bram and her honor guard had followed them in, but were directed to stand along the wall with Tristan’s own guards, separated from her by twenty feet of open floor. “Be seated,” Tristan said, gesturing to one of the chairs with perfect courtesy.
She caught Bram’s eye, saw the tension in his shoulders and the way his hand clasped the pommel of his sword. She sat. A court official began reading the treaty terms aloud in a droning voice. Territory divisions, trade agreements, recognition of sovereignty, and the immediate release of the prisoner Paula, currently held in his majesty’s custody.
She relaxed slightly. It was all here in writing, witnessed by dozens. “Your Majesties, do you accept these terms as binding? ”
She nodded firmly.
“I do. ”
Every eye turned to Tristan. He was silent for a long, terrible moment, just looking at her with those cold, empty eyes. Then his mouth curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“No,” he said pleasantly. “I don’t think I do. ”
Her blood turned to ice. Tristan stood slowly, and his entire demeanor changed.
“Did you really think I would allow you to leave again? ”
She surged to her feet, but guards were already grabbing her arms, yanking her away from the table. “You gave your word! ” she fought against their grip.
Tristan laughed and upended a flagon of wine over the treaty on the table. “Let it be known that the false Queen Nezarin came here under false pretenses, seeking to undermine the rightful crown. She has been taken into custody for treason. ”
The nobles didn’t protest.
They just watched. Some of them were smiling. Guards flooded into the room from every entrance, dozens of them, armed and ready. And she realized with sickening clarity they knew.
They’d known all along. This entire ceremony had been theater. Bram had been right. “Nezarin!
” Bram’s shout cut across the room. She turned to see him fighting through Tristan’s guards, cutting a path toward her with desperate strength. But there were too many. “Run!
Nezarin, run! ” But she was held fast by four guards, helpless. A guard slammed the pommel of their sword into Bram’s head before he could shift. He staggered but stayed on his feet.
“No! ” She struggled violently against her captors. “Let him go! ”
Tristan moved to stand in front of her, his expression almost pleasant.
“My thanks for the gift. The vagabond rogue who helped you and my heirs escape. ” His voice turned to ice. “He’ll pay for that.
”
“Please, Tristan, be reasonable—”
“You are in no position to bargain. ” His hand shot out, gripping her jaw with cruel fingers. “You humiliated me. Took my sons.
Did you think I would forgive that? That I would let you live happily in your northern territories with my children? ”
She tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. “You’ll be executed tomorrow morning, publicly in the courtyard where you used to walk as my obedient mate.
” He smiled. “And your death will serve as a reminder to your people that if they don’t return my sons within the week, I’ll march north and burn every village between here and there until nothing remains but ash. ”
She closed her eyes. He’d never wanted peace.
Never intended to negotiate. This had always been about breaking her, about reclaiming control, about winning. Across the room, Bram was still struggling despite being pinned by six guards. His eyes found hers, and in them she saw fury and fear and something that looked like anguish.
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed. “I’m so sorry. ”
Tristan released her jaw and stepped back with a smirk. “Take her to the dungeons.
”
Guards dragged her toward a side entrance. She fought every step. The last thing she saw before the door closed was Bram, bloodied and beaten, being hauled in the opposite direction. Chapter 6.
Down, down, down to the dungeons, to the cell. They tossed her inside and she hit the floor hard, her hands scraping against rough stone. The door clanged shut with a sound that echoed in her bones. She pushed herself up slowly and looked around.
Every corner and every crack in the walls she knew intimately. The damp spot where moisture collected. The scratch marks near the door where she’d clawed until her fingers bled. The iron ring set into the wall where they’d chained her during her pregnancies.
Twelve years. And now she was back. She touched the bloodstains on the floor, greedily sucked up by the cell from her first miscarriage. The darker stains of the second one, worse than the first.
She’d nearly died from internal bleeding. The third, the grief had been crushing that time because she’d wanted that baby, had whispered to it in the darkness, promised it love, protection, everything she could give. And then it was gone. Then came the twins, the only pregnancy that took.
She’d been chained to the iron ring for the last trimester. Couldn’t shift. Couldn’t move more than a few feet. Labor had been agonizing and lonely.
She’d held them for one precious hour. Then Tristan had taken them away. She’d felt them crying, screaming floors above while she was trapped below, helpless and going slowly mad. She curled onto her side on the stone floor, the exact spot where she used to sleep, and let the sobs come.
She’d walked right into it. Despite every warning, despite Bram’s certainty, despite her own instinct screaming that this was a trap. She’d wanted it to be all right. But wanting something does not make it true.
And now she was going to die here, and her children were once again motherless. Somewhere in the distance, muffled by stone and iron, she heard Bram shouting her name. Heard the sound of fists hitting flesh. His voice went hoarse with desperation before being cut off suddenly.
The sound of impact, then silence. The silence was worse than the shouting. She pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle her sobs. He was hurt, maybe dying, and it was her fault.
She’d brought him here. She’d insisted on coming despite everyone telling her it was suicide. Hours passed, or maybe minutes. She lay on the cold stone and tried not to think about her children, about the twins clinging to Josie, about Josie’s pale, determined face.
I’m coming back. She had promised another lie, another broken promise to add to all the others. She thought about Bram standing at the edge of camp, his fingers brushing her jaw, his eyes dark with want. All the things they’d never said to each other, all the things they’d never get to say now.
The despair was suffocating. She’d survived twelve years in this cell before. But that had been different. Then she’d had hope.
The belief that someday she’d escape, that she’d see her children again. Now she knew exactly how this ended. With her execution in the courtyard, with Tristan marching north to burn villages and slaughter civilians, to reclaim her children. With Bram dead in some other cell.
She squeezed her eyes tightly. And in that darkness, she saw Bram’s face. Just Bram as he’d been that night after the storm, holding Theon with infinite gentleness. The memory didn’t change anything about her situation.
But somehow it did. Because Bram believed in her. Still thought she was worth protecting, worth following into danger. And if he’d been willing to walk into this trap alongside her because he thought she was worth it, then maybe she owed it to him to not give up.
She pushed herself to sitting, her hands shaking. She wasn’t the same woman who’d been imprisoned here twelve years ago. That woman had been alone with nothing but grief to sustain her. But this woman had three freed children waiting for her, a daughter who believed in her strength, two little boys who needed their mother, and a golden-eyed rogue who’d promised to stand by her.
“I love him,” she realized. She loved Bram. His gruff honesty and his fierce protectiveness. And gods, she wanted to live to tell him.
She stood on shaking legs. She was getting out of here somehow, and she was taking Bram with her. Chapter 7. She had until dawn.
Tristan had said the execution would be at dawn. That gave her maybe six hours. Six hours to find a way out, to get to Bram, to escape. Paula.
Paula knew this palace better than anyone. If she could get to Paula, they might have a chance. But how? The cell was locked.
Her eyes fell on the iron ring in the wall. She’d never been able to shift while chained to it. The iron had kept her wolf locked away. But she wasn’t chained now.
So she undressed. Then she closed her eyes and reached for her wolf. That part of herself that had been dormant for so long under the weight of trauma and captivity. For a moment, nothing happened.
The wolf felt distant, unreachable. Then she thought of Bram, of the way her wolf had stirred in his presence, of how desperately she wanted to survive this. Her wolf rose. The shift took her like a wave, bones reshaping, muscles reforming.
Within seconds, she stood on four legs instead of two. Her wolf gripped the iron ring in her jaws and pulled. The metal groaned. The stone around it cracked.
She braced her hind legs against the wall and pulled harder. The ring shifted. The cracks in the stone widened. She pulled with everything she had, thinking of her children, of Bram, of Paula.
The ring tore from the wall with a sound like breaking teeth. She shifted back to human form, breathing hard, and clutched the iron ring in her hands. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was something. And more importantly, she could shift again.
After twelve years of that ability being locked away in this cell, she had her wolf back. She dressed hurriedly, then moved to the door and listened. Footsteps in the corridor outside. She waited until they faded, then called out, her voice weak and frightened.
“Please, I need help. I’m hurt. ”
The footsteps returned, stopped outside her door. “What’s wrong?
” A guard’s voice, young. “I’m bleeding,” she gasped. “Please, I need help. ”
“Back to the far wall,” the guard ordered.
She stepped back until one heel touched the stone wall opposite the door. Then she lifted the iron ring in both hands to the side. She’d only get one shot. Keys jangled.
The lock turned. The door opened. The guard stepped inside, a torch in one hand. She swung and threw the iron ring with all her strength.
It connected with his temple with a sickening crack. The guard dropped like a stone. She stood over him, breathing hard, her hands shaking. She grabbed his keys, his torch, checked the corridor.
Empty. Then she ran. The palace dungeons were a maze of corridors and cells. She moved as quickly as she dared, listening for guards.
She checked cell after cell. Empty. Empty. “Your Majesty?
”
Paula’s voice, weak but unmistakable. She fumbled with the keys, her bleeding hands making it difficult. Finally, one turned. The door swung open.
Paula sat against the far wall, thin and bruised, but alive. Her eyes went wide. “How did you—? ”
“No time.
” She knelt beside Paula, taking in the damage. Her face was swollen, one eye nearly shut. Dark bruises mottled her arms and neck. When she tried to help Paula stand, Paula let out a gasp of pain and nearly collapsed.
“Easy,” she whispered, catching her. “Ribs. I think they’re broken. ”
Her jaw clenched.
Tristan had done this, punishment for helping them escape. “We have to find Bram and get out of here,” she said firmly. “Can you walk? Do you know where he might be?
”
Paula’s good eye focused on her with difficulty. She nodded, the movement clearly painful. “Low value prisoners. They’ll be in the upper levels.
I can show you. ”
They moved through the corridors, Paula’s directions coming in gasps between pained breaths. She knew these passages intimately from years of service. But every step clearly cost her.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. They found Bram two levels up. He was chained to the wall of his cell, his head hanging forward, blood matting his hair. For one terrible moment, she thought he was dead.
Then his head lifted slightly. “Nezarin? ” His voice was hoarse, disbelieving. “I’m here.
” She was already working on the lock with shaking hands. “I’m getting you out. ”
“The others,” Bram started. “He just killed the others.
”
“Later,” she said, her heart sinking heavily at the news. The chains fell away, and Bram nearly collapsed. She caught him, taking his weight. “Can you walk?
”
“Just about. ” Bram’s arm came around her shoulders. His eyes found Paula, taking in her battered state. “Paula, gods, what did he do to you?
”
Paula managed a pained smile despite her swollen face. “Nothing I haven’t survived before. ”
Behind them, somewhere in the distance, a bell began to ring. The alarm.
Someone had found the guard. “Faster,” Paula urged. They climbed stairs she didn’t recognize, pushed through a door into a guard room. Three guards looked up from their card game, shock crossing their faces.
Bram moved despite his injuries, grabbing a sword from the wall and engaging the first guard before the man could draw his weapon. Paula grabbed her arm and pulled her toward a side corridor, but not before she heard voices from inside the guard room. Male voices. Familiar voices.
Tristan’s voice. “March north in three days,” Tristan was saying. “I want every able-bodied soldier ready. ”
A general’s voice.
“And the Northern Territories, your Majesty? ”
“Burn every village between here and there. Slaughter anyone who resists. ” Tristan’s voice was cold, clinical.
“Women, children, everyone. No mercy. They’ll surrender the twins or they’ll have nothing left to surrender with. ”
Horror washed over her.
Three days. He was giving them three days before he massacred her people. They ran through servant passages, Paula navigating with practiced ease. Past storage rooms and wine cellars, upstairs and through corridors until finally fresh air.
A hidden door opening onto the palace grounds. Dawn was breaking, painting the sky in shades of gray and pink. They were out. Paula led them to the stables where horses waited.
Within minutes, they were mounted and riding hard toward the gates. Guards shouted behind them. Alarm bells rang louder. But they were through the gates and into the forest before pursuit could organize.
She looked back once at the palace disappearing into the distance. They’d escaped. Against all odds, they’d actually escaped. Bram rode close beside her, his face pale with blood loss, but his eyes steady on hers.
“You came for me,” he said quietly. “Where else would I go? ” she echoed his words back to him. Something passed between them.
Everything from that cell, everything waiting to be said. But there was no time now. Not with Tristan’s army preparing to march. Not with three days to warn her people.
She had survived. She had gotten out. And she had three days to stop a massacre. Chapter 8.
They rode hard through the morning, pushing the horses as fast as they dared with two injured riders. She kept glancing at Bram, at the blood matting his hair, the careful way he held himself in the saddle to avoid aggravating his broken ribs. The gray pallor beneath his tan. Her fault.
All of it. But underneath the guilt burned something else. I love him. The realization hadn’t faded with escape.
If anything, it had grown stronger, more urgent. She needed him to know that in her darkest moment, thinking of him had pulled her back from the edge. She needed to apologize. And she needed to finish what they’d started that night before departure.
But not now. Not while they were fleeing. Not with Paula barely conscious and pursuit possibly behind them. Soon though.
As soon as they stopped. As soon as they were alone. The cabin appeared through the trees, small, abandoned, blessedly sheltered. She helped Bram dismount.
He nearly collapsed, his legs giving out. She caught him, taking his weight. “Just need a minute,” he muttered. “You need more than a minute.
” Her heart ached. “Come on. ”
She half carried him inside and got him onto the cot. He immediately tried to sit up.
“Lie down,” she ordered. “Need to keep watch, just in case—”
“I’ll do the watching. You do the lying down. ”
What are you going to do if Tristan turns up?
Bleed all over him? For once, Bram didn’t argue, which told her exactly how much pain he was in. Paula stumbled through the door, and she rushed to help her. Her breathing was wet and rattling, blood trickling from her mouth.
She settled her near the cot. “I’ll find herbs,” Paula said faintly. “For the wounds. Yarrow and comfrey—”
“No.
” Her voice was firm. “You’re not going anywhere either. Just tell me what to look for—”
“Risk you gathering moonrose instead of turmeric? ” Paula was already trying to push herself up, her face contorting with pain.
“You stay. Tend his wounds. I’ll be faster. ”
“Paula, let me help—”
“Let me do this,” Paula insisted.
Something in her tone made her relent. Paula needed to feel like she was contributing instead of just being another burden. “All right,” she said quietly. “But don’t go far.
”
Paula nodded and limped toward the door, each step clearly agony. The door closed behind her, and suddenly she was alone with Bram. Her heart started racing. Now she could tell him everything.
That thinking of him had saved her in that cell. That she was sorry for not listening. That she deeply, profoundly loved him. “Bram, there’s something I need to tell you—”
“You walked right into the trap.
” His voice wasn’t cold exactly, just tired. Heavy with something that made her stomach clench. “I know,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry.
That’s what I wanted to tell you—”
“We all warned you it was suicide,” Bram said. “And yet you just charged in without thinking. ”
“I thought that you could—”
“That peace was possible with a monster who kept you under lock and key for twelve years, who kidnapped your children? ” He stopped, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
Tears burned in her eyes. “Bram, I’m sorry. You were right about everything. I should have listened.
”
“You should have. ” His eyes finally opened, and the pain in them stole her breath. Not anger, exactly. Something deeper.
“Eight good people are dead because they trusted your judgment. ”
“I know,” she whispered. “I understand why you made the choice,” his voice softened. “But right now, understanding doesn’t make the consequences any better.
”
The silence that followed was crushing. She sank down onto the floor beside the cot. “I’m sorry,” Bram apologized. “That was a tad harsh.
”
She looked up at him through her tears. Bram was struggling to sit up despite the obvious pain. “Come here. ”
“You should be lying down—”
“Come here,” he repeated more firmly.
She stood on shaking legs and moved closer to the cot. Bram reached out and pulled her down to sit beside him. Then, moving carefully despite his injuries, he wrapped his arms around her. She broke.
All the fear and guilt and terror she’d been holding back came pouring out in racking sobs against his chest. Bram held her through it, one hand stroking her hair, the other holding her steady. “I thought I was going to die,” she gasped between sobs. “I thought he was going to kill me and I’d never see the children again and I’d never get to tell you—”
“I know,” Bram said quietly.
“And then I heard you screaming, and I thought you were dead. ”
“I’m here. ” His arms tightened around her. “We’re both here.
We survived. ”
She pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. Pine and leather and blood and something uniquely Bram. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, about her epiphany in the cell.
But at that moment, Paula returned. As Paula worked on their injuries, she watched Bram’s face, watched the way his jaw clenched against the pain. He’d followed her into a trap, had nearly died because of her choices. He deserved to know how she felt.
What he had risked himself for. There would be time, she told herself. There would be time.
