The auction block stood beneath burning torches, and Dia watched the crowd surge like beasts scenting blood. On the platform, two men knelt in chains so heavy they should have collapsed under the weight. One had hair like spun gold, the other dark as a crow’s wing. Neither looked like monsters—until the golden-haired one spat something foreign and bared teeth that gleamed too sharp.
“Is this what rebellion costs? ” Fana’s voice cut through the noise, honeyed and cruel. She circled the prisoners with a smile that never touched her eyes. “Not long ago, you would have cried for these monsters.
Now, I’m offering you a choice, little sister. ”
Dia’s throat closed. The crowd roared for blood, and the whip cracked twice. Both men jerked, red lines blooming across their backs.
“What do we do with rebel scum? ” Fana asked the air, then turned to Dia. “I’m entirely serious. You showed up today without crying—maybe you’re finally ready.
”
The golden-haired man lifted his head. His eyes locked on Dia, and instead of fear, she saw pure, burning hatred. Guards forced both men to their knees, and more chains clattered down. Fana leaned close.
“Break one. Kill the other. That’s the test. ”
Dia’s mind went white.
Break one. Kill the other. The words echoed until Fana added, almost lazily, “Unless you’d prefer to use them as your lovers. ”
The crowd laughed.
Dia’s pulse hammered. She stepped forward before she could think. “I’ll take them both. ”
Silence.
Fana’s smile widened, slow and delighted. “Both,” Dia repeated, and her voice didn’t shake. “I bought two. Tonight, I have an appetite for the other.
”
The guards dragged the dark-haired wolf to his feet. His eyes were chips of pale ice, and he watched her like she was something he wanted to tear apart. She pulled the chain tighter, and she felt the absolute refusal in every line of his body. “Please understand,” she whispered, too low for anyone else to hear.
“I’m trying to save you. ”
His fury didn’t crack. But behind it, she saw the first faint flicker of doubt. Fana clapped.
“Then take him to your chambers. Show me you’ve learned what it means to rule. ”
The room spun. The crowd applauded.
Dia’s hand shook around the chain, and the dark-haired wolf pulled back, blood running down his wrists from the struggle—until she stopped fighting him and simply stood still. He went still too. In her chambers, the door shut out the noise. The wolf—Ajax, she’d heard the golden one call him—stood like a statue, chains rattling every time he breathed.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. He laughed, bitter and low. “You bought me to break me. ”
“I bought you to hide you.
”
He stared at her. The silence stretched so long she thought he’d stopped breathing. “Why? ” he finally asked.
“Because I watched my sister turn into a tyrant for years, and I hated it, and I was too frightened to do anything. That’s all. ”
“You’re frightened now. ”
“Terrified.
”
He looked away. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its edge. “You know they’ll check. They’ll want proof you used me.
”
“I know. ”
“Then you understand what you’re asking. ”
She did. The words sat between them, heavy and inevitable.
She didn’t tell him she liked the sound of his voice. She didn’t tell him she’d never undressed a man before. She just pulled the chain a little looser and sat down on the edge of her bed, and after a long moment, he sat down on the floor across from her. “Most people know what’s right,” he said, “and do nothing because it’s hard.
You’re not most people. ”
“Don’t make me noble. I’m terrified. ”
“That’s why I believe you.
”
The next morning, Fana swept in with honeyed questions and a smirk that promised ruin. Dia met her stare and didn’t blush. Fana examined the rumpled bed, the worn chains, the wolf who knelt in the corner with his eyes down. “Well done,” Fana said, and for once, she sounded almost proud.
“Maybe you are ready. ”
The door shut. Dia’s knees gave out, and Ajax caught her before she hit the ground. His hands were still bound, but he held her steady.
“You’re safe,” he said. “For now. ”
“For now is enough. ”
The days blurred.
Dia visited the golden-haired wolf—Hector—in the cells below, always with a guard, always with an excuse. He snarled and spat and tested his chains, but he never told anyone what she actually did when the guards left. She brought him clean water and a sharp blade hidden in bread, and she whispered plans for tunnels and exits until the torchlight flickered low. “Why?
” he finally asked, when her voice had gone rough from whispering. “Because no one else will. ”
He studied her for a long moment. “I will remember this.
”
“I hope you will. ”
One night, Ajax found her staring out the window at the distant mountains. “They’re planning something,” she said. “Fana and the council.
They’re going to march. ”
“I know. ”
“I can’t stop them. I can barely keep you alive.
”
“Keeping me alive is enough. ”
She turned. His pale eyes held hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. “I asked my father once,” she said, “who he was before he became king.
He said a man who had to learn to be cruel. I don’t want to learn that. ”
“Then don’t. ”
“How?
”
He reached out, slow, and took her hand. His fingers were calloused and rough, and his touch was feather-light. “Choose something else. Every day, choose something else.
”
The alarm horn split the night at dawn. Thunder of hooves, steel, and screaming. Dia woke to Ajax shaking her shoulders. “They’ve come.
Your sister’s forces are breaking through the western gate. ”
“What—”
“You need to choose now. ”
She ran. She found Hector in the chaos, found the keys in the guard captain’s belt, found her way to the battlements where the sky burned orange and the courtyard churned with shapes too fast to follow.
Wolves. Dozens of them. His pack, come for him at last. A massive black wolf tore through the ranks, and behind him, a gray wolf followed.
Hector. The golden-haired man she’d fed and freed, running with his brothers toward the gate. Fana’s scream cut across the field. “TRAITOR!
”
The word hit Dia like a blade. But she didn’t stop. She ran for the tower where the old flag hung, the one her father had flown before the war, and she tore it down with her bare hands and raised it high. “FANA!
” she shouted into the smoke. “YOU WANT A WAR? START WITH ME! ”
The black wolf skidded to a halt at the base of the tower.
His eyes found hers through the chaos—Ajax, in his true form, a monster made of muscle and fury. He didn’t balk. He turned and stood between her and the approaching riders. The first volley of arrows flew.
He took them. She screamed. He didn’t fall. Behind him, Hector’s gray shape lunged at the archers, and the tide turned.
Fana reached the tower moments later, blade drawn, boots splattered with mud and blood. Dia stood in the doorway, flag still in her hands. “Give me one reason,” Fana hissed, “why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand. ”
“Because our father was gone long before they came.
You built this grief into a weapon and used it to burn everything he loved. ”
Fana froze. For a heartbeat, her eyes flickered—the frightened child beneath the queen’s mask. “It didn’t have to be this way,” Dia said.
“It still doesn’t. ”
The war ended in a day. The wolves held the gate; Fana’s own captains turned their cloaks rather than fight a princess who carried her father’s banner. By sunset, the keep was still, and Dia stood in the courtyard, covered in ash, watching the wounded be carried past.
Ajax limped toward her, human again, blood streaked down his arm. Hector followed, breathing hard. “You’re alive,” she said, and her voice cracked. “You’re alive,” Ajax echoed.
Hector looked between them, and a ghost of something crossed his face. “Both of you, then. You can’t say both. ”
Dia laughed, an unsteady sound.
“Watch me. ”
The fires smoldered. The gates stood broken. And for the first time in her life, Dia did not feel alone.
Her war was only beginning—but she wouldn’t have to face it alone.
