The groom was late, nearly half an hour late. Moira’s ivory gown swept behind her as she kept her eyes fixed on the cathedral doors. He would come, she told herself. Jonan wouldn’t miss his own wedding, not with the peace treaty and her father’s legacy riding on it.
Her gaze drifted across the crowd and landed, against her will, on Raylan. He sat in the front row, right where an Alpha King belonged, and he was already watching her. She looked away. She had met him twice and thought about him far more than she cared to admit.
The scar through his eyebrow, the hazel eyes, the infamous charm. She had spent years avoiding him because the pull between them was dangerous. The doors opened. A messenger hurried up the aisle with a sealed letter.
The priest read it aloud for all to hear. “Lady Isolde has fallen gravely ill. His Highness Prince Jonan has been summoned to her bedside and must attend to her immediately. ”
The cathedral erupted in whispers.
Moira felt heat crawl up her neck. Isolde. The first love. The dying first love.
This was the sixth time Isolde had been “gravely ill” since the betrothal was announced. “Shall we postpone the ceremony? ” the priest asked. Behind her, her father’s men muttered about the northern trade routes collapsing.
Moira was about to speak when the room went silent. Raylan had risen. He walked toward the altar, past pack leaders who dropped their gazes, and stopped in front of her. “Well,” he said, “this is an interesting ceremony so far.
”
“You’re supposed to be seated,” she said. “I was. Then I thought someone ought to do something about this. ” He glanced at the crowd.
“Everyone seems to be waiting. So, here I am. ”
“Your Majesty, this isn’t the moment for—”
“Marry me instead. ”
The gasps were audible.
Moira stared at him. “You can’t be serious. ”
“I’m always serious,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m just serious in an entertaining way.
”
“You’re not known for commitment that lasts longer than a season. ”
“Ah, you’ve been paying attention. ” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I have a plan.
Marry me, and I’ll keep the alliance intact. ”
“You can’t possibly want to marry someone you’ve spoken to twice. ”
“Three times. You forgot the dance.
You told me, with extraordinary audacity, that I was your fated mate while drunk. ”
“And yet here you are, rushing to the altar. ”
“You’re already at the altar,” he reminded her. “Do you swear this maintains the alliance?
” she asked. “On my crown,” he said. She looked at him, ran the calculation of a woman who had spent her life balancing kingdoms on the edge of a decision, and knew she had no other choice. “Proceed,” she told the priest.
Two years she had spent planning to be a princess consort. Now she was queen. In the ballroom that night, Raylan laughed with the nobles while she watched him. He caught her gaze and her pulse betrayed her.
She crossed the room to him, determined to discuss the terms of their arrangement. “Dance with me first,” he said, taking her hand. His hand settled at her waist, and his scent hit her fully. Her wolf went still, reverent.
She had never felt anything like it. When he dipped her, slow and deliberate, she forgot what she had come to say. He turned to the hall. “Thank you for celebrating with us, but I think it’s time my wife and I retired for the night.
Don’t wait up. ”
The ballroom erupted in laughter and cheers. Heat flooded her cheeks, but she said nothing. In his chambers, he asked about the plan.
She wanted the truth. Why had he married her? “You needed a move. I gave you one,” he said.
Then he asked, “Do you want my brother back? ”
She froze. “No. ”
“Try again.
”
“He left me at the altar in front of everyone who matters. ”
“You want revenge,” he guessed. “You want him to see what he lost. ”
“And if I do?
”
“Then our interests align. There’s someone at court, someone I want. She thinks I’m not capable of being serious. I married you to make her jealous while keeping the alliance intact.
If Jonan wants you back, I’ll arrange an annulment. If my lady wants me back, you stay queen, and I’ll be discreet. ”
“Who is she? ”
“Lady Jessa.
”
Moira knew the name. Beautiful, sophisticated, had left court months ago. “You love her? ” she asked.
He turned to the window. “I want her to understand she was wrong about me. That I’m capable of commitment. I wanted it to matter.
”
“Fine,” Moira said. “I have conditions. No consummation. Separate beds.
The performance is only for the public. ”
He laughed, genuinely. “Understood. No consummation.
No touching. ” He stepped closer. “Unless you change your mind. ”
Her breath caught.
She told herself she wouldn’t. The first week was a performance. Raylan touched her constantly, his hand at her back, his voice low and warm, all for the watching eyes. She repeated to herself that it was an act.
But when he spoke to Jessa in private, something hot and irrational coiled in her stomach. Jessa watched them with knowing eyes and a smile that made Moira deeply uncomfortable. Three weeks into the marriage, Moira woke with nausea. The healer confirmed what she suspected and dreaded.
She was six weeks pregnant. There was only one man she had ever been with. This was Jonan’s child. She had known there was a possibility after one drunken night at the engagement party, and she had said nothing.
She went to Raylan, the words tumbling out, her voice cracking. “I’m pregnant. It’s Jonan’s. I understand if you want to—”
“The child is royal.
You’re my wife. I’ll claim it as mine. ”
She stared at him. “You don’t have to.
”
“I know I don’t. I want to. ”
“What about the plan? What does this do for Jessa?
”
His mouth curved. “If I’m claiming my wife’s child as my own, she’ll have a hard time arguing I’m not serious about anything. ”
The relief was enormous. She collapsed against his chest, and he held her, steady, silent.
He moved her things into an adjoining room. He gave the kitchens instructions for her meals, ginger tea appearing at exactly the moment the nausea hit. He touched her constantly, covering her scent, hiding the pregnancy from the court without being asked. He was kind, kinder than he let on, to a woman whose child wasn’t his.
She decided she had to tell Jonan. He had a right to know. If he wanted her back, Raylan would be free to pursue Jessa. It was only fair.
But nights passed. Raylan’s hands found the knots in her shoulders, and her resolve scattered. One night, he wasn’t in his room. She stood at his door, her hand raised to knock.
It opened. He stood there, slightly disheveled, and she kissed him. Not a decision, just movement. He kissed her back with an intensity that made her forget why this was a mistake, and he took her to his bed and worshipped every inch of her until she came apart in his arms.
She woke in the warmth of him and immediately felt the walls slam back into place. She pulled away. “That was a mistake. Pregnancy hormones.
It doesn’t mean anything. ”
She said it before he could, because of course it wasn’t special to him. She was just another distraction on his way back to Jessa. “If you say so,” he said, flat and neutral.
In the days that followed, he was polite, attentive, but the warmth was muted. No more ginger tea. No more long evenings. The distance was careful, deliberate, like he was giving her exactly what she asked for.
She decided he regretted it. Or worse, the challenge was gone. She tested him. “Shouldn’t you be working on showing Jessa you’re serious?
” No reaction. She was falling in love with him. Falling in love with a man who loved someone else. She wrote a letter to Jonan.
“I am with child. Two months. ” She sealed it with shaking fingers. At the royal hunt, Jonan cornered her.
“I received your letter. The child is mine, isn’t it? ” He stepped closer. “I still love you.
I should have shown up at the altar. I was manipulated. Isolde begged me to say goodbye. But I see now how quickly she recovered.
I’m in love with you. We can be a family. ”
“I’ve slept with Raylan. ”
“That doesn’t matter.
I forgive you. ”
“I forgive you,” as if she were the one who had done something wrong. “I need time to think. Give me until your birthday ball.
”
Back at the pavilion, Raylan caught her wrist, his eyes sharp. “Where were you, wife? ”
“Taking a walk. ”
“With my brother?
” He searched her face. “Do you still love him? Even now? ”
She saw his hope, the hope that she would go back so he could be free.
She told him, “I think there could be a future between us. Jonan wants to fix things. ”
Raylan’s face went completely neutral. “I see.
” He released her, grabbed a drink, and walked into the trees alone. At Jonan’s birthday ball, he pressed her for an answer. She stalled, dodging, when she caught Jessa watching with sharp eyes. Jessa had overheard.
Moira followed her into the corridor. “I need your word you won’t repeat what you heard. ”
Jessa nodded. Then, carefully, “If you’re planning to leave His Majesty, you should at least respect him enough to tell him yourself.
He loves you. ”
“He loves you, Jessa, not me. I’m a political asset, a convenient wife. I was never anything more than a solution to a problem.
”
Jessa stared at her, genuinely taken aback. “You are wrong about him. ”
The warning hit Moira mid-sentence. Not an emotion—physical, abrupt, cold.
A wrongness that screamed through her chest. It wasn’t her panic. It was his. “I have to find Raylan,” she said, and she ran.
She found him in an alcove with Isolde. Isolde’s hands rested on his arms, her face tilted toward his neck, satisfied. Moira’s jealousy was immediate and total. But then she looked at him.
His eyes were glassy, unfocused, his weight against the wall. He could barely stand. “Step away from my husband,” she said, her voice ice. “Your Majesty, I only wanted to help—”
“What did you give him?
He can’t stand. ” She took Raylan’s weight, and he leaned into her, unguarded, instinctive. “Raylan, stay awake. Please.
”
Isolde played the wounded innocent. Moira called the guards. She called for Jonan. “Ask her.
She has drugged the king. ”
Jonan’s face hardened. “Why would you do this? ”
“I didn’t!
”
“If you weren’t the one who did this,” Moira said, her fury cold, “you would have called for help the moment you found him. You kept him here, saying nothing, while he could be dying. You said, with great confidence, ‘He is not dying. ’ How would you know that unless you know exactly what’s wrong with him?
”
Jonan looked at Isolde, and the cracks showed. “What was I supposed to do? ” she spat. “Ever since she married your brother, you forgot I exist.
You’re so obsessed with Jonan. You’d do anything to make him see—”
“By drugging the king,” Moira said. “Guards,” Jonan said, “arrest her. ”
Isolde was dragged from the hall still shouting his name.
Raylan swayed, and Moira caught him, wrapping her arms around him. The truth settled in her chest, quiet and certain. She loved him. She had to tell him.
He woke slowly the next morning. “You were drugged. By Isolde. She was trying to make Jonan jealous.
”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For saving me. For staying. ”
“Did Jonan come by?
” he asked, carefully, trying not to show that the answer mattered. He was hoping she would go back, so he could be free. She owed him the truth. “We worked things out.
He wants to be part of the child’s life. I’m releasing you from the contract. You’ve been more than kind. I won’t trap you the way Isolde tried to trap Jonan.
”
“Stop. ” His voice cut through the room. She paused at the door. His hand closed around her wrist.
“Don’t walk away from me. I love you. ”
She froze. “You what?
”
“Choose me. Stay, be with me. ”
“What about Jessa? She’s the one you love.
”
“Jessa and I have never been together. There was never a plan to get her back. We’re friends, that’s all. I made up the entire story to give you a reason to stay married to me.
I felt the mate bond the moment we met, four years ago. You ran. You avoided me. You accepted Jonan’s betrothal.
What was I supposed to do? It shattered me, watching you plan a wedding to him. When he didn’t show up at the altar, I saw my chance. ”
Her breath shook.
“I felt it too. That pull, the wrongness when you weren’t near. I thought it was your charisma. I turned down Jonan because I love you—not because of a bond I didn’t know existed, because of who you are.
”
“Say it again,” he said, his voice rough. “I love you, Raylan. ”
He pulled her in. “I’m never letting you go.
”
One year later, Moira sat in the palace gardens, watching her son grip her finger with fierce concentration. He was eight months old, all chubby cheeks and determination. Raylan crouched beside them. “He’s got a good grip.
Future warrior, this one. ”
Jonan appeared at the garden path, no longer carrying wounded pride. “Hello, nephew. ” The word was clean, uncomplicated.
He had accepted his place as uncle, grateful to be part of the boy’s life. The baby reached for him. “He’s getting big. ” “He takes after his father in that regard,” Moira said.
Raylan snorted. “Our son has excellent taste. ”
Later, Raylan moved behind her, his hands settling at her waist. “You’re quiet today.
” “I’m tired. ”
His grip tightened. “Do I need to call the healer? You’ve been tired lately—”
“Raylan,” she laughed.
“I’m not sick. But I am pregnant. Again. ”
For a moment he looked stunned.
Then his expression broke into pure, unguarded joy. He pulled her close. Their son squealed between them, objecting to being squished. Raylan pulled back, laughing, and lifted the baby into his arms.
“You’re going to be a big brother. ”
Moira watched them, her family, and felt the quiet triumph of a life she never thought she would have. This wasn’t duty, wasn’t arranged for politics. This was choice.
And most of all, love.
