Every night, the dream came to her the same way. Golden fields, warm sun, her children safe and laughing. The twins tumbled through the tall grass, and Josie—her daughter, her lost girl—sat beside her, happy. Even Bram was there lately, watching over them with those golden wolf eyes.
Then the sky went black, and Tristan’s face appeared like a god of ruin. His hand reached down and plucked the twins from the grass while they screamed. And she was chained to the iron ring again, helpless, locked away in the cell that had been her home for twelve years. Nezarin woke gasping, her shift soaked with sweat.
For a terrible moment, she didn’t know if the darkness around her was her tent or the cell. She forced herself to listen. The rough canvas of the tent wall. The soft breathing of her children nearby.
Not the cell. Not anymore. But the screams still echoed in her mind. She pushed herself up and reached for her cloak.
Outside, the war camp sprawled in shades of gray, thousands of soldiers waiting for her command to march south toward Tristan. Toward war. Two weeks had passed since Josie brought the children home. Two weeks since she’d believed her war was won.
She’d raised this army to get her children back, and she’d succeeded. The twins slept safely in her tent. Josie was here, her daughter. 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—wanted him to pay.
But another part whispered, “You have them. Isn’t that enough? ”
She made her way to the medical tent. Her children didn’t need to be there anymore, but she preferred it.
She didn’t want to scare them with her night terrors. The tent was still dark when she slipped inside. She stopped. A figure crouched beside the twins, tucking a blanket around Veto’s small wolf form.
When the pup stirred, a large, scarred hand stroked his head with infinite gentleness until he settled back into sleep. Then the figure moved to check on Josie. Bram. This dangerous rogue wolf, this man who’d killed Tristan’s trackers with his bare hands to save her children, still watched over them.
And deep inside her, something she thought was broken stirred. Her wolf. Bram’s head snapped up. His gold eyes found hers in the darkness.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said quietly. “Thought I’d check on them. ”
“Thank you,” she said. His eyes stayed steady on hers.
“Only right. After everything we went through. ”
The silence that stretched between them was charged. Finally, Bram glanced back toward camp.
“Your generals are getting restless. They want to know when we march. ”
“I know,” Nezarin replied. “We could move within days.
Strike before he’s prepared. Josie is eager for us to rescue that Paula woman. ”
“Bram,” Nezarin interrupted gently. He looked at her.
“We need to end him. 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 her. This was what she’d wanted too, why she’d raised an army. 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.
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. ”
“Ness? ”
“I know what Tristan is. 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 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. ”
“Why?
What are you—? ”
“Just do it. One hour, Bram. ”
She strode toward the command tents before he could respond, her back rigid, her hands clenched into fists to hide their trembling.
She didn’t look back, because if she did, she might turn around and do something foolish, like close the distance between them and find out if his mouth tasted as good as she imagined. The war tent was already filling when Nezarin arrived. The generals stood in tight clusters, their low conversations dying as she entered. She moved to the head of the table.
“Your Majesty,” General Ko stepped forward. “Has there been news from the south? Is Tristan moving? ”
“No news from Tristan.
This is about our movements. ”
The tension in the tent shifted. “We’re ready to march at your command,” another general said, a younger man named Veric. “Just say the word and we’ll—”
“We will not be marching.
”
Silence. “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.
“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,” Nezarin 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 person in this camp has lost someone to Tristan’s cruelty. ”
“I empathize with your anger. I really do. But I won’t needlessly sacrifice more lives to this man.
”
“What about Paula? You’d abandon her to that monster after she saved Josie? ”
Nezarin maintained her composure with difficulty. “Her release will be negotiated.
As part of a peace treaty. ”
The laughter that erupted was disbelieving. “Peace treaty? 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. ”
“Enough. ” Her fist clenched.
“This army answered to my call. I shall not send them to die while I cower behind them. ”
“So your solution is abandonment? ” Veric’s voice dripped 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.
“Bram, I—”
“You’re afraid. 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. ”
“That’s 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. ” He stared at her.
“I’d taken you for a leader, not the frightened prisoner he tried to make you. ”
Nezarin felt her face go hot. “Get out. ” She pointed at the tent entrance, her hand shaking.
“Everyone out now, except my senior counsel. ”
The generals 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.
With her senior counsel remaining, she forced steel into her voice. “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. ”
“And if Tristan refuses? ” Ko asked.
“He won’t. ”
She had no arguments to back it up, but she would not back down. The silence that met her statement was answer enough. She found Josie awake in the medical tent, sitting cross-legged with the twins nestled against her.
Her daughter looked up as Nezarin entered, her young face composed but tired. “So we’re not fighting the king? ”
“You weren’t meant to hear that. ”
Josie shrugged.
“You really think he’ll accept peace? ”
Nezarin settled beside her daughter. Theon’s nose twitched, his golden eyes blinking open, and he scrambled over Josie’s lap to reach her. She gathered him close, his small tongue darting out to lick her fingers in drowsy affection.
“I just want us to be safe. 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 while Nezarin worked through the knots in Josie’s tangled hair, Theon’s warm weight against her side, Veto’s soft snores filling the tent. “Paula used to do this,” Josie said quietly. “When the other servants weren’t watching. ”
Nezarin’s hands stilled.
“She was the only one who was kind to me. Everyone else used to call me worthless. I couldn’t shift. So, yeah.
” Josie’s voice was soft, distant. “They’d throw things at me sometimes. Or trip me. ”
Nezarin’s throat burned with suppressed emotion.
Thirteen years. Her daughter had endured that cruelty while Nezarin lay chained in a cell floors below, helpless. And Paula had been there. Paula had protected her, comforted her.
Paula had saved Josie in ways Nezarin never could have from that cell. “She always told me I mattered. That was nice. ”
“She’s right, you know.
” Nezarin set down the comb and wrapped her arms around Josie from behind. “You matter to me more than anything in this world. I promise you, I’ll bring her home. ”
Veto chose that moment to wake, stretching with a huge yawn.
He blinked at them sleepily, then wiggled his way over to press his cold nose against Nezarin’s free hand, demanding attention. “And if the king refuses to let her go? ”
Nezarin cupped her daughter’s face. “He won’t.
”
Josie studied her for a long moment. “Bram seems angry. ”
“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. ”
Nezarin laughed. “It’s complicated, my love. ”
“I hope he stays.
” Josie’s tone carried weight. Not quite a request, but close. A need, maybe. “He cares about us, doesn’t he?
”
Nezarin 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. Two weeks passed.
Half the army gone, the camp felt almost empty. Bram remained. He still trained soldiers, attended council meetings, checked on the children. But they hadn’t spoken since she’d taken her decision.
Nothing beyond professional courtesy. He wasn’t hostile, just absent. And Nezarin 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. Nezarin was already awake when the first crack of thunder split the sky. She sat up instinctively, reaching for her knife. Another crack, louder this time.
Lightning lit up the tent, and the twins started screaming—high-pitched yips of pure terror as they shifted to wolf pups involuntarily. Nezarin scrambled over, scooping them into her arms. “Shh, my darlings. 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 woke and hurried over, gathering Veto in shaking but confident hands. She began to sing, 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,” Nezarin said quickly. “They’re just scared.
It’s not your fault. ”
For the first time since she’d brought the twins home, Josie’s singing hadn’t worked. 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. His gold eyes took in the scene immediately. Wordlessly, he moved toward them. He knelt beside them without hesitation.
“A man of few words. ” Nezarin nodded once and placed Theon into his hands. The rogue handled him with surprising gentleness, tucking the trembling pup against his broad chest. “That’s a set of lungs on a tiny pipsqueak there,” he grunted, a chuckle in his voice.
The storm raged outside, but Bram began to hum—a low, steady thrum that reverberated from deep in his chest. Nezarin felt it vibrating in her own body. It was primal, the kind of rumble that spoke to something ancient in her wolf. Safe.
Protected. Home. Theon’s whimpering quieted. Nezarin adjusted her hold on Veto and began to hum, too, matching Bram’s rhythm.
Their voices wove together in the darkness, and she found herself acutely aware of his proximity, the heat radiating from his body. Then Bram began to sing. 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.
Nezarin joined him on the second verse, their voices blending seamlessly. She’d never sung with anyone like this, never had her voice fit so naturally with another’s, like two pieces of something that had always been meant to come together. Their eyes caught in the darkness, and she saw a smile cross his features before he returned his attention to the child. By the time the song ended, both pups had gone limp in their arms, breathing evening out as they slipped toward sleep.
The storm raged outside, but inside everything had gone quiet. “Thank you,” Nezarin whispered. “Reckon you were doing all right,” Bram 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. “You stayed with them, kid. That’s what matters.
”
“But I did nothing. ”
“Josie. ” Nezarin shifted Veto carefully. “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. ”
“I just want to be good enough,” Josie murmured.
“You are,” Nezarin and Bram 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. Nezarin carefully transferred both pups to their beds, and Bram helped settle blankets over all three children.
His hand brushed hers as they both reached for the same blanket, and the tent suddenly felt very small with just the two of them awake. “I’ll be going then,” Bram said quietly. But he didn’t move toward the entrance. “Stay.
Please, until the storm passes. ” She paused. “I know you think I’m making a mistake with the peace treaty. But right now, I just need you to stay.
”
His expression softened, and he took a step closer instead of toward the door. “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.
Being near you… it’s not simple, Nzin. ”
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. 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. ”
At least that’s honest.
He moved to the tent entrance but didn’t leave, just stood there looking out at the rain. “For what it’s worth, I understand why you’re choosing to do this. ”
“Why would you stay? ” she asked quietly.
“If you think I’m wrong? ”
Bram’s eyes found hers in the darkness. “I made a promise to her, Josie, and the twins. I stand by them whatever happens.
” He paused, took a step closer. “And whether you like it or not, you’re part of them. ”
“What if I did like it? ” Nezarin whispered.
Bram went very still. “If you did like it,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, “then I’d count myself lucky. ”
“You make it sound simple. ”
“It is simple.
You’re the complicated part. You tie yourself in knots trying to protect everyone, including me. ”
“Is that so wrong? ”
“No.
” He shook his head slightly. “But I don’t need protecting. I just need—” He trailed off, but his eyes said what his words didn’t. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back up, and she felt it like a physical touch.
“What? ” she breathed. Bram’s 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, saw him beginning to lower his head toward hers. 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. ”
Nezarin’s heart lurched. “In the middle of the night? ”
“She says King Tristan has sent his response.
”
“What does it say? Has he agreed to negotiate? ”
The soldier hesitated. “King Tristan is willing to consider peace terms.
He will negotiate territory division, trade agreements, and Paula’s release. On one condition, Your Majesty. He requires that you personally come to the palace for a formal treaty signing ceremony. It must be public, witnessed by both kingdoms to legitimize the peace.
”
Nezarin 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.
The field was still soaked from the night storm. Nezarin had chosen this location deliberately, an open stretch of land where no one could overhear. Her senior council stood in a loose circle. Bram stood apart, his arms crossed, 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. I think it may be our only chance to get Paula back. ”
“It’s obviously a trap, Your Majesty.
”
“Obviously,” Bram’s voice cut through, flat and certain. “We don’t know that. ”
“Tristan waits till you’ve disbanded half your army, then demands a ceremony that forces you onto his turf. 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? 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 from under his nose. Pride.
You humiliated him, escaped his clutches, made him look weak before his entire kingdom. ”
“So what? 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. ”
“If you get caught and used as a bargaining chip,” Bram shot back, “it’ll cost heaps more. ”
The words hung heavy in the damp air. Nezarin 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. “I can’t abandon Paula,” she said quietly.
“She saved Josie. ”
“Your Majesty, we understand the debt you feel. But delivering yourself to Tristan won’t repay it. ”
“If I may speak plainly,” Tyra stepped closer, “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. Find another path. Any other path that doesn’t involve walking back into Tristan’s hands.
”
“And if there is no other path? ”
Silence fell across the circle. Then Bram spoke quietly. “If you go, then I’ll be coming with you.
”
Nezarin’s 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, if it is a trap, I won’t have you caught in it, too. ”
“Then don’t go.
” 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, grounding touch. “Stay here. Stay safe.
”
“I can’t. I can’t abandon her. ”
Something in Bram’s 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! We’ll just be giving him what he wants. ”
The raw honesty in his voice silenced her.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” he 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. They deserve to know what’s happening. ”
“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 gathered her children 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 was deafening. Then Josie’s face crumbled.
“No. No, you can’t go back there. You promised you wouldn’t leave us again. ” The twins picked up on her distress immediately, Veto starting to whimper, Theon pressing harder against Nezarin’s chest.
“It’s just for the ceremony. 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? ”
Nezarin 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. ”
And she was right. Nezarin couldn’t. But she had to believe.
“Bram will keep me safe. ”
“How do you know? ”
Because of the way he looked at her in that muddy field. Because he’d said he’d rather be captured alongside her than safe without her.
“I just know. ”
She stayed with them until they’d cried themselves into exhaustion. Then she slipped outside. Dawn would come soon, and she would ride south.
“You should be resting. ” Bram approached in the darkness, standing close enough that their arms nearly touched. “The twins cried for an hour after you told them. Josie longer.
”
“I heard. ”
“Are you still going? ” He sounded tired. “We ride at dawn.
”
“Then we need to talk about what happens when things go wrong. ”
“If things go wrong—”
“When. ” He corrected. “We’ll need a plan for getting you out.
Whatever happens, if I say run, you run. Don’t wait. You just go. ”
“I’m not leaving you.
”
“Because if it comes down to getting you out or both of us dying, I’m choosing you every time. You are my queen. ”
The way he said it—fierce, possessive, and protective all at once—sent heat racing down her spine despite her anger. “I won’t leave you.
”
“Promise me. ”
“Only if you promise the same. 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, something that looked almost like wonder.
His hand came up slowly, his fingers brushing her jaw. “You’re impossible. ”
“So are you. ”
Their breath melded together in the night air.
She could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wanted to argue and kiss her in equal measure. “Your Majesty,” a voice called from camp. “It’s time to go. ”
“Standing at the edge of camp with her honor guard assembled, she hugged her children.
Eight warriors against an entire palace. Bram at their head, his face set with grim determination. “I love you,” Nezarin whispered, pressing kisses to each of their heads. “Please be careful,” Josie managed, her voice breaking.
Nezarin rode out of camp, Bram beside her, close enough that their knees occasionally brushed. Neither spoke. She was glad he was there. Her wolf was calm with him at her side.
They rode through the day in tense silence. By late afternoon, the palace appeared on the horizon. Nezarin’s breath caught. No matter how many months or years passed, it would never be enough.
“Breathe. ” Bram’s voice was solid. “You survived twelve years in there. Reckon you can survive a few days?
”
She nodded, but the palace loomed larger as they approached, more real, more impossible to escape. Her vision started to blur. “Nezarin. Look at me.
” Bram’s voice cut through the panic. “You aren’t alone. I’m right here. ”
They rode through the outer gates.
Palace guards lined the courtyard. The great doors opened, and there he was at the top of the steps. Tristan. Tall, handsome, every inch the powerful Alpha King.
He smiled as they approached, warm and welcoming. But when his eyes met Nezarin’s, they were empty. “Queen Nezarin. ” His voice carried across the courtyard.
“Welcome home. ”
The word home stabbed between her ribs. She dismounted on shaking legs, feeling Bram immediately at her side. Tristan descended the steps and lifted her hand in formal greeting, bowing over it.
His touch made her skin crawl. “We are honored by your presence. Please come inside. Refreshments have been prepared while we discuss the treaty terms.
”
Nezarin pulled her hand away. Bram’s hand pressed against her lower back, gentle but firm. 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 stood at the center of the throne room, the treaty document laid out between two ornate chairs. Bram and her honor guard were directed to stand along the wall, separated from her by twenty feet of open floor. Nezarin caught Bram’s eye, saw the tension in his shoulders. She sat.
A court official began reading the treaty terms aloud. Territory divisions, trade agreements, recognition of sovereignty, and the immediate release of the prisoner Paula. “Your Majesties, do you accept these terms as binding? ”
Nezarin nodded firmly.
“I do. ” Her voice was steady despite her shaking hands. 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. ”
Nezarin’s blood turned to ice.
She surged to her feet, but guards were already grabbing her arms. “You gave your word! ”
Tristan laughed and upended a flagon of wine over the treaty. “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. Nezarin realized with sickening clarity that they’d known all along. This entire ceremony had been theater. “Nezarin!
” Bram’s shout cut across the room. He was fighting through Tristan’s guards, cutting a path toward her with desperate strength. But there were too many. “Nezarin, run!
”
But she was held fast by four guards. A guard slammed the pommel of his sword into Bram’s head before he could shift. Bram staggered but stayed on his feet. “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?
”
“Your execution will be tomorrow morning, publicly in the courtyard where you used to walk as my obedient mate. 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 until nothing remains but ash. ”
He’d never wanted peace. Never intended to negotiate.
This had always been about breaking her, about reclaiming control. “They are my sons. My heirs. Proof of my bloodline.
And you will die knowing that they will never remember you. ”
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.
The last thing she saw before the door closed was Bram, bloodied and beaten, being hauled in the opposite direction. They threw her into the cell, and she hit the floor hard. The door clanged shut with a sound that echoed in her bones. Nezarin pushed herself up slowly and looked around.
Every corner, 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 blood stains on the floor from her first miscarriage. Healers had worked frantically while Tristan watched with detached disappointment.
“Try again,” he’d said, like she was a broodmare that had failed to deliver. Then the darker stains of the second one. The third. Tristan’s visits had grown more infrequent.
“Give me sons, damn you. ”
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 floors above while she was trapped below, helpless. Nezarin 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, she’d wanted it to be all right.
And now she was going to die here. And her children were once again motherless. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Bram shouting her name. Heard the sound of fists hitting flesh.
Then silence. The silence was worse than the shouting. Bram was hurt, maybe dying, and it was her fault. She’d brought him here.
Hours passed, or maybe minutes. Time felt strange in the darkness. She thought about her children. She thought about Bram, about all the things they’d never said, never get to say now.
She’d survived twelve years in this cell before. But that had been different. Then she’d had hope. Now she knew exactly how this ended.
With her execution. With Tristan marching north. With Bram dead in some other cell. She’d failed everyone.
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 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. Nezarin pushed herself to sitting.
She wasn’t the same woman who’d been imprisoned here twelve years ago. That woman had been alone, with nothing but grief. But this woman had three children waiting for her, had a daughter who believed in her strength, had two little boys who needed their mother, and had a golden-eyed rogue who’d promised to stand by her. I love him, she realized.
She loved Bram. His gruff honesty and fierce protectiveness. And she wanted to live to tell him. The wanting cut fiercely through her despair.
She was getting out of here, and she was taking Bram with her. Nezarin undressed, then closed her eyes and reached for her wolf. That part of herself that had been dormant for so long. 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. Her wolf rose. The shift took her like a wave.
Within seconds, she stood on four legs instead of two, her senses sharper, her body stronger. She 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, thinking of her children, of Bram, of Paula. The ring tore from the wall with a sound like breaking teeth. She shifted back, breathing hard, and clutched the iron ring in her hands. After twelve years of that ability being locked away in this cell, she had her wolf back.
She had her strength back. She dressed hurriedly, moved to the door, and listened. Footsteps in the corridor. She waited until they faded, then called out, her voice weak and frightened.
“Please, I need help. I’m hurt. ”
The footsteps returned. “What’s wrong?
” A guard’s voice, young. “I’m bleeding. Please, I need help. ” She let out a convincing moan of pain.
“Back to the far wall,” the guard ordered. Nezarin 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.
Nezarin swung the iron ring with all her strength. It connected with his temple with a sickening crack. The guard dropped like a stone. She grabbed his keys and torch, checked the corridor—empty—then ran.
The palace dungeons were a maze. She checked cell after cell. Empty. Empty.
A prisoner she didn’t recognize. Then, “Your Majesty. ” Paula’s voice, weak but unmistakable. Nezarin fumbled with the keys.
The door swung open. Paula sat against the far wall, thin and bruised but alive. Her face was swollen, one eye nearly shut, dark bruises mottling her arms and neck. When Nezarin tried to help her stand, Paula gasped and nearly collapsed.
“Ribs. I think they’re broken. ”
Tristan had done this. Punishment for helping them escape.
“We have to find Bram and the others and get out of here. Can you walk? Do you know where he might be? ”
Paula 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.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth—internal injuries, probably. But Paula kept going, kept leading her through the maze despite the obvious agony. 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, Nezarin thought he was dead. “Nezarin? ” His voice was hoarse, disbelieving. “I’m here.
I’m getting you out. ” The lock clicked. She rushed inside and worked on the chains. “The others.
He killed the others,” Bram managed. “Later. ” Nezarin’s heart sank heavily at the news. The chains fell away and Bram nearly collapsed.
She caught him, taking his weight. “Can you walk? ”
“Just about. ” His arm came around her shoulder.
His eyes found Paula. “Paula, gods, what did he do to you? ”
Paula managed a pained smile. “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, pushed through a door into a guard room. Three guards looked up from their card game. Bram moved despite his injuries, grabbing a sword from the wall and engaging the first guard before the man could draw his weapon. Then Nezarin heard voices from inside the guard room.
Male voices. Familiar voices. Tristan’s voice. She froze, straining to hear.
“March north in three days,” Tristan was saying. “I want every able-bodied soldier ready. ”
“And the Northern Territories, Your Majesty? ”
“Burn every village between here and there.
Slaughter anyone who resists. Women, children, everyone. No mercy. They’ll surrender the twins, or they’ll have nothing left to surrender with.
”
Horror washed over Nezarin. Three days. He was giving them three days before he massacred her people. Paula tugged her arm urgently.
Behind them, Bram had disabled the guards and was limping toward them. They ran through servant passages, 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.
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.
Nezarin looked back once at the palace disappearing into the distance. They’d escaped. Against all odds, they’d escaped. Bram rode close beside her, his face pale with blood loss, but his eyes steady on hers.
“You came for me. ”
“Where else would I go? ”
Something passed between them. But there was no time now, not with Tristan’s army preparing to march, not with three days to warn her people.
They rode north through the dawn, three escaped prisoners racing against time. Nezarin held tight to one thought: she had three days to stop a massacre. They found an abandoned cabin through the trees. Nezarin helped Bram dismount, half-carrying him inside to the cot.
He tried to sit up. “Lie down. I’ll do the watching. ”
“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 Nezarin rushed to help her. Her breathing was wet and rattling.
Paula insisted on gathering herbs, despite her injuries. “You stay. Tend his wounds. I’ll be faster.
”
She needed to feel useful. Nezarin let her go. “But don’t go far. ”
The door closed, 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 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. “I know. I’m so sorry.
That’s what I wanted to tell you. ”
“We all warned you it was suicide. And yet you just charged in without thinking. ”
“I thought that you could reason with the man.
That peace was possible with a monster who kept you under lock and key for twelve years. Who kidnapped your children. ”
“I’m sorry, Bram. You were right about everything.
I should have listened. ”
“You should have. ” His eyes finally opened, and the pain in them stole her breath. “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 was crushing. Nezarin sank down onto the floor beside the cot, her legs giving out. “I’m sorry,” Bram apologized. “That was a tad harsh.
”
She looked up at him through her tears. “Come here. You should be lying down. ”
“Come here,” he repeated more firmly.
Nezarin stood on shaking legs and moved closer. Bram reached out and pulled her down to sit beside him. Then, moving carefully despite his injuries, he wrapped his arms around her. Nezarin 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. 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. We’re both here.
We survived. ”
Nezarin pressed her face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. 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, Nezarin watched Bram’s face. He’d followed her into a trap, had nearly died because of her choices. He deserved to know how she felt, what he’d risked himself for. There would be time, she told herself.
There would be time.
