The mating auction was where wolves went when no one wanted them. Claire stood among the desperate and discarded, but unlike the others, she made no effort to be seen. A heavy hood concealed her face completely, hiding the truth she could never reveal. The crowd whispered, wondering what could be so terrible that even here, among the unwanted, she had to hide.
She didn’t blame them for wondering. Beneath the fabric lay her shame, her curse, the secret that had destroyed her life. She would not be chosen if she concealed her face. She would not be chosen if she exposed it.
Then the Alpha King arrived. Elian walked past princesses and noblewomen without a glance and stopped directly in front of her. “I’ll take her,” he said. The hall erupted in shock.
Why would a king who could have anyone choose the one woman hiding her face? Claire didn’t understand either, not until he made his terms clear. He would marry her, protect her, give her everything she needed. He would even swear never to look beneath her hood.
But only under one condition. He would never love her. Neither of them understood how impossible that vow would be. The women had been arranged in a line on the raised platform like wares at a market.
The great hall of Artoria held no coronation or treaty that night. It held a mating auction. This was where unmated wolves came when all other options had expired, when they were too old for a first marriage, too scarred by life to find a proper mate. Wolves couldn’t exist in a pack unmated.
That would disturb the hierarchy their kind needed. The men who came sought second wives to tend homes, mistresses, and nursemaids, but none sought love. The auctioneer’s voice droned on, listing bloodlines and qualities with the enthusiasm of a man selling lame livestock. One woman wept silently.
Another stood defiant despite a scar running from temple to jaw. A third stared at nothing, hands curved protectively over her belly. Pregnant and abandoned, most likely. The last figure in the line drew the most attention, the attention of whispers and sidelong glances.
She stood apart from the others, shrouded completely in a hooded cloak of dark, heavy fabric. Not even her hands were visible. She might have been beautiful. She might have been monstrous.
Beneath the hood, Claire felt every eye like a physical touch. This was the end of everything. If she wasn’t chosen today, if no one was desperate enough to take a woman whose face they couldn’t see, her father would be within his rights to sell her as a slave. He was standing near the edge of the platform with her sister Celia, pretending not to know her.
“Who would buy a hooded one, sight unseen? ” her father had said. And he’d been right. The auctioneer had moved on when the great doors burst open.
Every conversation died. Every head turned. An alpha presence rolled through the doors like a wave, the kind of power that came from bloodlines so pure they were more legend than wolf. “The Alpha King,” the auctioneer gasped.
King Elian of Artoria walked into the hall as if he owned it, which Claire supposed he did. He was tall, with blond hair falling past his shoulders in pale gold that looked almost silver in the torchlight. Rumor said he was so beautiful noblewomen composed terrible poetry about him. But Claire thought beautiful didn’t cover it.
Beautiful was too soft a word for these cheekbones, these pale gray eyes, cold and clear and absolutely merciless. Kings didn’t come to mating auctions. Kings, especially this King, could have anyone. So why was he here?
He stopped in the center of the hall, and his gaze swept over the platform. “Continue,” he said. It took the auctioneer three tries to find his voice. “Y-Your Majesty, we are honored by your—”
“I said continue.
”
Claire felt him approaching and fought the urge to run. She heard his footsteps stop at the first woman. A pause. The footsteps moved on.
Another pause. He continued down the line. Then the footsteps stopped directly in front of her. Claire’s breath caught.
She kept her head bowed, staring at the stone beneath her hood. The silence stretched. No one dared to breathe. Then, cutting through it like a blade through silk, cold and final and absolutely certain, the king announced, “I’ll take her.
”
Only when chaos erupted did Claire realize he’d meant her. Through the small window of the carriage, she could see the castle rising in the distance. Gray stone towers piercing a pale sky. Despite everything, she felt something unexpected.
Relief. Her father had made it clear no one would want what they couldn’t see. When the auction ended with no offers, he’d be legally permitted to sell Claire into slavery. It was meant to be her father’s final revenge.
But then the Alpha King had walked into that hall and everything had changed. The carriage stopped. Claire’s heart hammered as a guard opened the door. She followed him through corridors that seemed to stretch forever, servants bowing as she passed.
No one sneered. It was so different from her father’s house that she felt dizzy. They stopped before a heavy wooden door. “The king will see you now, my lady.
”
The room was a study, shelves lined with books, a fire burning low in the hearth despite the summer heat. Standing by the window, backlit by gray afternoon light, was Elian. When he turned to look at her, she felt the cold radiating from him like a physical force. She dropped into a curtsy.
“Your Majesty. ”
“Rise,” he said. His voice was distant, controlled, empty of warmth. “Your Majesty,” she began, her voice barely steady, “I never meant to deceive you.
”
“Deceive me? ” He sounded surprised. “Yes. The veil, I—”
He raised one hand, cutting her off.
“I don’t need to know. The wedding will take place in three days. That’s all you need to concern yourself with. ”
“Your Majesty, please.
Before you look, you have to understand the reason I wear it. If you just let me explain—”
“I will not be looking. ”
Claire blinked. “Excuse me?
”
“You’ve hidden your face. I assume that’s because it isn’t pleasing to look upon. ”
Beneath her veil, Claire grimaced. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he wasn’t entirely right either.
“Your Majesty, wait. Before we marry, you should know the truth about me, about why I—”
He paused at the door but didn’t turn. “You will be my wife,” he said quietly. “But other than that, I have no interest in seeing you.
Ever. ”
Claire stood frozen. No interest in seeing her. Not just now.
Ever. “Your Majesty,” she managed, “even if you never wish to see me, others will. People will talk. They’ll let you know what I look like.
I would prefer you hear it from me before the ceremony. ”
Elian finally turned, and for the first time his eyes focused on her fully. Cold eyes, gray as winter frost. “If you would prefer that no one ever sees you,” he said slowly, “then it shall be so.
”
Claire gaped. “What? ”
“You are to be queen. You will receive jewels and palaces and titles and land.
Receiving veils and a staff which ensures you are never looked upon directly on top of that is no hassle, I assure you. ”
She couldn’t speak. This was too good to be true. It had to be.
“If that is all,” Elian said, already pulling the door open, “I’ll see you at the cathedral. ”
Then he was gone. Claire stood alone. She should refuse.
That was the logical choice. Go back to her father, accept her punishment. Because this strange offer from a cold king who wanted a wife he’d never look at felt like a trap. But then she remembered the look in her father’s eyes the last time she’d seen him.
Pure hatred. The labor of his wife’s affair, he’d called her, a stain on his family’s name. He would have sold her into slavery with a smile. The Alpha King had looked at her with nothing.
No hatred, no disgust, not even disdain. Just cold indifference. And he’d offered her something she’d never dared hope for. Permission to stay hidden.
Claire touched the fabric at her throat. “Cold over cruelty,” she thought. “I’ll choose cold over cruelty every time. ”
The next morning, Claire was summoned to the King’s Council Chamber.
She’d barely slept. The room they’d given her was larger than any space she’d ever occupied, and a team of blind servants had arrived within hours, just as the King had promised. They’d bathed her gently, dressed her in soft fabrics. No one had been gentle with Claire in a very long time.
Her father was sitting at the far end of the table. “Please, sit,” Elian gestured to a chair near him. One of the advisers cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, the marriage contract has been prepared according to your specifications.
If you’d like to review, I’ll summarize. ”
Elian held up a hand. He picked up the document, scanned it briefly, then set it down. “The terms are straightforward.
First, I will never look upon you. Neither I nor anyone in my household, my court, or my kingdom will be permitted to see your face. Is this agreeable to you? ”
Before Claire could answer, her father surged forward.
“Your Majesty, I must protest. You don’t understand what you’re agreeing to. If you knew what was beneath that veil—”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Elian said calmly. “I was talking to my future queen.
”
Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in Claire’s chest. “Yes,” she said quietly. “It’s more than agreeable, Your Majesty. Thank you for your kindness.
”
Elian tilted his head slightly, and for the first time, she saw something other than cold indifference in his expression. “Kindness? ”
“Yes. You’ve honored my request to remain veiled.
The blind maids you sent have been gentle and respectful. That was very kind of you. ”
Elian looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head slightly and returned his attention to the contract. “The other conditions are as follows.
You will give me an heir, preferably more than one, to secure the succession. But other than that, we will not share a life. We will not share a room. We will not dine together or spend time together.
You will attend certain royal functions with me, perhaps three or four times a year, to maintain appearances. That is all. The marriage will be contractual only. You will live comfortably.
You will want for nothing. But I want nothing to do with you beyond what is necessary to produce children. ”
Claire could feel the advisers watching, waiting for her to break. Her father had gone very still.
Even Elian seemed to be bracing for something. But Claire didn’t flinch. His scent was calm, controlled. There was no malice in it, no desire to humiliate, no cruelty.
He was simply stating facts, the same way someone might state the time or the weather. “I agree to your terms, Your Majesty,” Claire said clearly. “They’re more than generous. You do me a great honor.
”
The advisers stared. Her father’s expression twisted with fury. And Elian looked utterly perplexed. “An honor?
To be married to someone who wants nothing to do with you? Who will never care for you? ”
Claire met his gaze through her veil, unwavering. “Yes, Your Highness.
It’s more than I deserve. ”
More than my family has ever given me, she thought. More than I ever dared hope for. Safety.
Protection. A life where no one would look at her with hatred or disgust. A husband who would never raise his hand to her. A husband who simply wanted nothing.
That was better than cruelty. That was mercy. “Very well. ” Elian pushed the contract across the table.
“Sign here. ”
Claire signed. Her father signed as witness, his hand shaking with barely suppressed rage. She was almost to the staircase leading to her rooms when someone stepped into her path.
Her sister Celia, dressed in a gown of pale blue and more beautiful than ever. “We need to talk. ”
They found an empty alcove off the main corridor. “You can still refuse him,” Celia said finally.
“And why would I? ”
“You’d risk the king’s anger when he discovers what you are? ”
“He won’t discover anything. He’s agreed never to look at me.
”
“You really think he’ll never demand to see his new wife? He’s the Alpha King, Claire. Women throw themselves at him. Eventually, he’ll insist.
And when he sees what’s under that veil? ”
“I’ll explain. ”
Celia’s expression hardened. “Explain what?
Your face says it all. You don’t deserve to be queen. Not after what you did. ”
“Claire, I told you it wasn’t me,” Claire attempted.
“Liar! ” Celia’s voice broke. “You couldn’t stand that Eric was leaving you and so you—”
“I don’t know what happened that night,” Claire interrupted. “I was angry, yes, but I would never hurt him.
”
“The king seems kind to you now,” Celia hissed, “but when he discovers the truth, he’ll destroy you, Claire. ”
Then she was gone. The carriage rocked gently through the crowded streets toward the cathedral. Thousands of people were packed into every available space along the route, waiting to see their new queen.
The crowd’s noise intensified as she stepped down. “Her veil is so thick,” someone said. “I can’t make out her features at all. ”
Claire’s stomach twisted.
They’re about to be disappointed, she thought. The cathedral was packed with nobility in their finest clothes, jewels glittering in candlelight. Every face turned toward her with whispers. What does she look like?
Perhaps she’s hideously scarred. But Claire kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, where Elian waited. He wore black, of course he did. Formal clothing that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and even from this distance, she could see the sharp lines of his features, the cold beauty that made him look like something carved from ice.
His scent betrayed nothing. How does he do that? Most wolves couldn’t control their scent so completely. The priest began the ceremony.
“Do you, Elian, Alpha King of Artoria, take this woman to be your wife, your queen, your mate? ”
Elian’s voice was steady, emotionless. “I do. ”
Then he leaned closer to her.
“I will never love you,” he said quietly. “Please understand that. ”
Claire nodded. “I understand, Your Majesty.
”
“Do you? Truly? ”
“Yes. ”
And she did.
Whatever reason he had for this strange marriage, she understood love was not part of the bargain. The priest cleared his throat. “The rings. ”
The moment Elian’s fingers closed around hers, she gasped.
He was cold, not just cool, but genuinely cold, as if he’d been standing outside in winter without gloves. His palm was larger than hers, elegant and strong. But the temperature… “Your finger,” he prompted gently.
She fumbled, pulling off her glove with shaking hands. Elian slid the ring onto her finger, his touch cold throughout. “By the power vested in me,” the priest intoned, “I now pronounce you husband and wife, alpha and queen, mates bound by sacred vow. ”
The claiming.
They needed to claim each other verbally, since a physical claiming would require her to reveal her neck, her skin, things she couldn’t do here. “I claim you as mine,” Elian said, his voice carrying through the cathedral. “My wife, my queen, my mate. ”
Claire’s wolf stirred restlessly, but she felt no snap of a mate bond, no overwhelming pull.
That would come later, in private, when they completed the physical claiming. “I claim you as mine,” she echoed. “My husband, my king, my mate. ”
The priest smiled.
“You may kiss your bride, Your Majesty. ”
The cathedral went utterly silent, waiting to see if he would lift the veil. Claire’s heart hammered. “Your Majesty,” she whispered, “will you not look at me?
”
Elian tilted his head. “Do you want me to look at you? ”
“No,” Claire breathed, “but you should. ”
“You’ve made your wishes clear,” he said, “and I will honor them.
”
Before she could respond, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. The kiss was gentle, formal, his lips cold against her gloved knuckles. The crowd murmured in confusion and disappointment, but Claire stood frozen, her hand tingling from that brief contact. He could have demanded to see my face, she thought dazedly.
But he respected my wish. “Thank you,” she whispered. The carriage ride back to the castle was quiet. Elian sat across from her, his gaze fixed on something outside the window.
When they arrived, he helped her down with that same cold, careful touch, then released her hand quickly. That night, Claire sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. The blind maids had prepared her, bathed her in rose-scented water, dressed her in a nightgown. Then they’d left her alone to wait for the consummation of their marriage.
Three soft knocks made her jump. “Come in. ”
Elian stepped inside. He’d changed from his formal wedding clothes into a white shirt unlaced at the throat, the fabric loose enough to reveal the strong column of his neck.
His hair was disheveled, and in the soft candlelight, he looked like a man, not a king. He closed the door behind him with a soft click. “I will wear this,” he said quietly, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a strip of black silk. “A blindfold, if you’re worried I might see you, even accidentally.
”
The thoughtfulness of it made her throat tight. “All right. Turn around. ”
Claire’s hands shook as she rose on her toes to tie the blindfold.
Up close, she could see everything the distance had hidden. The individual dark lashes resting against his cheeks, a small scar at the corner of his mouth. She secured the blindfold, her fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long against his skin. The last candle went out.
Complete darkness fell like a blanket. “I can smell your nervousness,” he said quietly. His hands rose slowly in the darkness, giving her time to pull away. When she didn’t move, his palms settled gently on her shoulders, large and cool against her bare skin.
Not demanding. Just holding. His thumbs began to trace small, soothing circles, and Claire felt herself relax into the touch. He’s being kind, she thought.
Even now. Slowly, his fingers slipped beneath the thin straps of her nightgown. He paused, a question in the stillness. Claire made a soft sound of ascent.
He slid the straps down with aching slowness, his fingertips trailing against her skin. The silk pooled around her feet. Elian’s hands remained on her shoulders, neither moving nor retreating. His scent was changing, growing richer, deeper, something warm and masculine that made her wolf stir with interest.
Claire reached for him with trembling hands, finding the edge of his shirt. His skin was cool and smooth, stretched over solid muscle. She explored cautiously in the darkness, mapping what she couldn’t see. The breadth of his shoulders, the firm planes of his chest.
When her hand settled over his heart, she felt it beating, fast and strong, faster than his controlled demeanor suggested. “May I? ” she whispered, her fingers resting at his waistband. “You may do whatever you like,” he replied, rough and low.
He caught her hand gently, lifted her fingers to his mouth, and kissed them one by one. Then his hand came up to cup her face, his palm cool against her flushed cheek. His fingers traced her cheekbone, exploring, then moved higher, toward her forehead. Panic flared.
He was trying to picture her features through touch. Claire caught his wrist, stopping him. Instead of speaking, she guided his hand downward, pressing his palm against her collarbone, just above her breasts. Elian went completely still.
Then, slowly, his fingers began to move, tracing along her collarbone with feather-light touches that made her shiver. A small sound escaped her, surprise and pleasure mixed. She felt his answering reaction, a slight tremor in his hand, a hitch in his breathing. His other hand found her waist, and both hands began to explore with increasing confidence.
The curve of her ribs, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. When his palm pressed against the small of her back, pulling her closer, Claire startled at the cold of his skin. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Elian murmured. His mouth found hers, cool but soft, moving with careful patience.
Her first kiss. His hand in her hair tightened, tilting her head to a better angle. The kiss deepened, became less careful, more urgent. Something was building inside her, a warmth, a need she didn’t understand but felt with every fiber of her being.
Elian carried her to the bed and laid her down with such care, as if she were something breakable and infinitely precious. Then his body covered hers, and Claire forgot how to breathe. When his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, she made a sound that surprised her, breathy and wanting. His mouth worked at her neck, his teeth grazing lightly.
“Please,” Claire whispered. “Bite me. ”
Elian went rigid above her. His whole body locked up, trembling.
“I shouldn’t,” he groaned, his voice strained. “It would be too much. ”
The refusal ached, but there was something in his voice, regret, maybe even pain, that told her this cost him too. Then they came together slowly.
There was a moment of sharp discomfort that made her tense. “Breathe,” Elian murmured. “Just breathe for me. ”
Claire forced herself to breathe, and soon the discomfort faded.
They found their rhythm together, and Claire understood what it meant to be truly connected to another person. “You’re so warm,” Elian said, sounding almost overwhelmed. “I’m sorry. Is it too—”
“No.
” The word came out as a groan. “It’s good. So good. ”
They lay tangled together in the darkness afterwards, both trembling.
His arm was wrapped around her, holding her close. Then he moved away, and she heard him dressing. His footsteps approached the bed again. He kissed her knuckles slowly, each one a gentle press of cool lips.
“Thank you,” he murmured, “for tonight. ”
The tenderness in his voice made her throat tight. Then, reluctantly, he released her hand and left. Claire woke alone the next morning.
She touched her neck where Elian had kissed and marked her, feeling the tender spots where his mouth had worked. The blind maids arrived to help her dress, and once covered, Claire ventured out into the palace. No one sneered at her. She found the library, a vast room filled with more books than she’d ever seen, and spent hours reading.
This is enough, she told herself firmly. Being safe is enough. The next evening, Claire sat by the fire when her door opened. Elian stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid.
“Your Majesty,” Claire said, surprised. “Hello,” Elian said, the word coming out stiff. An awkward silence stretched. “Is there anything I can help you with?
”
“No. I just thought I would come and inquire after your health. ”
He came to check on me, Claire realized, warmth blooming in her chest. “I’m perfectly fine, Your Majesty.
”
Another silence. But Elian didn’t leave. He stood there, clearly wanting to say something more but not knowing how. “Do you think you’re with child yet?
” he asked, the words bursting out. He immediately looked mortified. “Forgive me, that was quite forward. ”
“Not at all.
I can’t know yet. It’s too soon to tell. ”
“Perhaps,” Claire heard herself begin, “the more frequent the union, the greater the chances at conception. It might be good to—”
“Yes,” Elian interrupted, sounding almost relieved.
They barely made it to the bed. The following day, Claire admitted to herself that she liked that he’d visited her. Would very much like him to do so again. But he’d said, repeatedly, that once she was pregnant, their physical relationship would end.
“I need advice,” she said quietly to her maids, “about pleasing one’s husband. ”
“There is someone who might help, Your Majesty. ”
Lady Regina was a high lord’s mistress, beautiful, sophisticated, and apparently quite knowledgeable about matters of the bedchamber. She received Claire with a knowing smile.
“It’s purely for the kingdom’s sake,” Claire said, twisting her hands. “It’s important I conceive a child for His Majesty. So, it’s important that he comes back. So we keep trying.
”
“Of course,” Regina said smoothly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. That night, when Elian returned, and he did return, appearing at her door as the sun set, Claire put Regina’s advice into practice. She was bolder, more confident. She touched him the ways Regina had suggested, kissed him in places that made him groan.
Her husband seemed very pleased. He returned the next night, and the next, far more frequently than was strictly necessary for conception. But after a week, Claire realized she wanted more. She wanted him to stay through the night instead of leaving while she was still catching her breath.
“How do I get him to hold me afterwards? ” she asked Regina. Regina studied her. “His Majesty isn’t known to have many mistresses.
The ones he’s taken in the past never lasted more than one night. So you’re already doing something right. ” She leaned closer. “If you want him to actually sleep with you, exhaust him.
”
So Claire put all her new knowledge to use. She begged for his touch. She did things to him that made him curse and lose himself completely. They made love once, twice.
She coaxed him back to arousal a third time, then a fourth. By the time dawn approached, Elian collapsed beside her, his arm coming around her waist automatically, pulling her back against his chest. Within moments, his breathing evened out into sleep. Claire lay very still, hardly daring to breathe, delighted beyond measure.
In the morning, her fingers found the edge of his blindfold. “You really don’t mind? ” she whispered. Elian smiled.
“I would like to see you,” he said quietly. “Very much. But not if you don’t want me to. Not if it would make you unhappy.
” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and pulled her closer, and Claire felt like she might float away from happiness. Why can’t you love me? She wanted to ask. When you are already so good to me.
But she dared not ask. He respected her desire to conceal her face. She’d respect his. Every evening, without fail, Elian came to her chambers.
But one night, she woke to find him shivering despite being buried under blankets, his skin like ice against hers. Claire slipped from bed and built up the fire until the room was almost uncomfortably warm. It became a pattern. She’d wake in the night to tend the fire.
She had servants bring warmer clothes to his chambers. One evening, after he’d arrived looking particularly pale, Claire finally asked, “Is something wrong? ”
“You’re always so… We shifters tend to run hot, Elian, especially alphas like you.
But you’re—”
“It’s a family condition,” he interrupted. His tone made it clear he didn’t want to discuss it further. That night, after they made love, instead of dressing to leave, he lay beside her, still wound tight. “Something is troubling you?
” Claire asked softly. A long pause. “Trade negotiations. An old agreement is coming to an end with a foreign kingdom because we can’t provide potions like we used to.
”
“Why not? ”
“Because most witches are banned from practicing their craft. ” Frustration was clear in his voice. Claire’s heart skipped.
“You think they should be allowed to use magic? ”
Elian tensed. “No, I suppose not. It’s what my father believed.
”
“Perhaps,” Claire ventured carefully, “there’s a way to watch them carefully while still allowing them to practice, under supervision? ”
“How would that work? ”
They talked for hours, discussing possibilities. Eventually, Elian’s breathing evened out as he drifted to sleep, still holding her.
Claire lay awake, proud that he’d asked her opinion, that he’d shared his frustrations with her. I’m falling in love with him, she realized. Time went by. Elian came earlier each evening now, sometimes arriving before dinner to eat with her before taking her to bed.
The mate bond was forming, growing stronger with each night they spent together. Claire could feel it. She craved him when he was away, and he seemed to crave her just as intensely. It went on like this until one evening, after they’d made love and Elian lay relaxed and content beside her, Claire told him, “I’m pregnant.
”
He sat up, his hand finding her stomach in the darkness. “You’re certain? ”
“Yes. The healer confirmed it today.
”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, “We’re having a child. ” The joy in his voice was undeniable. He pulled her close, his hand still resting on her stomach.
“Thank you,” he murmured against her hair. Claire’s throat tightened, but beneath the joy was worry. He has what he needs now, she thought. An heir.
He’ll stop visiting. Why would he keep coming when the purpose is fulfilled? But the next night he returned, and the night after that. If anything, he was more devoted than before, more possessive.
He made plans for the baby, talking about nurseries and nurses and what they’d teach their son or daughter, his voice warm with excitement. With love. When the baby finally came, a boy, healthy and squalling, Claire wept with relief. The midwife brought him to Elian, who stared down at the tiny face with wonder, joy, fear, love.
So much love. Claire began to cry. Not tears of joy. Tears of fear and heartbreak, because it was over now.
He had his heir. He didn’t need her anymore. Elian’s smile vanished immediately. “Claire, what’s wrong?
Are you in pain? ”
Claire shook her head. “Tell me. Please, tell me what’s wrong.
”
“You’re going to leave,” Claire managed between sobs. “You’ll stop visiting, and I’ll lose you. ”
“What? No.
” Elian looked stricken. “No, Claire. Of course not. ”
“But that’s what you said.
You said you’d never love me. That once I gave you children, we’d have nothing more to do with each other. ”
“I was wrong. ” Elian brought her hands to his lips.
“I love you. ”
Claire sobbed. “I know I shouldn’t, but I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. ”
“You won’t lose me.
” His voice was fierce, desperate. “You’re the mother of my child. You’re everything to me. ”
“I want your love.
Not just your hand in marriage. I want you. ”
Elian’s eyes widened. And then, without thinking, spontaneous and immediate, he said, “You have it.
Of course you have it. ”
He froze, as if hearing his own words for the first time. Claire’s heart soared. “Do I?
Have your love? ”
“Yes. ” Elian breathed. “I love—”
He stopped mid-word.
His eyes went wide with pain. His hand flew to his chest, clutching at his heart. “Elian. ” Claire struggled to sit up.
“Elian, what’s wrong? ”
His face went even paler, white as snow. He tried to speak, but no words came out. His whole body convulsed.
Then he collapsed. “Help! ” Claire screamed, clutching him. “Someone help!
The king is dying! ”
“It’s no use,” Elian whispered, his voice barely audible. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. “There’s no cure.
There never was. ”
Claire touched his face with trembling hands. His skin was like ice, colder than she’d ever felt it. “Magic.
This is magic. What’s happening to you? ”
“There’s a curse,” he said quietly. “On all the kings of my line.
We cannot love. ” His eyes met hers through her veil. “If we fall in love, we die. ”
Claire shook her head in panic.
“No. It can’t be. ”
“My ancestor wanted to ensure the kings of Artoria would never be swayed by emotion. He sought out a powerful witch.
Now every king since has been incapable of surviving love. If we ever fall in love, the curse activates. Our hearts freeze. We die.
” He laughed bitterly, the sound turning into a cough. “My ancestor regretted it almost immediately, realized he’d been tricked. That’s why witchcraft was banned in Artoria. ”
Claire’s mind raced as Elian’s eyes closed.
“I chose you because I thought I’d never fall in love with someone I couldn’t see,” he confessed. “I thought I wouldn’t truly know you. That it would keep my heart safe. ”
“But it didn’t.
”
“No. I fell in love with you, Claire. Every part of you I could know. ”
“Then I’m killing you,” Claire said, tears streaming down her face.
“My very existence is killing you. ”
“No. ” Elian said fiercely. “You gave me life.
For the first time, I felt alive. You made me happy, Claire. So happy. I have no regrets.
”
“I won’t let you die. ” Claire’s voice was steel through her tears. “What if you stopped loving me? Would the curse reverse?
”
Elian looked at her with such tenderness it broke her heart. “I could never stop loving you. ”
“What if you had a reason to? ” Claire’s hands went to her veil with shaking fingers.
“What if you saw what I really am? ”
Elian’s eyes widened. “Claire—”
“You need to see. You need to know the truth.
Then you’ll hate me so much you’ll heal. ”
Before he could protest further, Claire pulled the veil from her face and watched her husband’s eyes widen, watched him take in her features. She waited for the disgust, the horror. But his expression was one of wonder.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “Look closer. ” Claire begged, tilting her head so he could see her forehead clearly. “Look at what I am.
”
There, stark against her pale skin, was the cross-shaped scar, the brand, the mark of a dangerous witch whose magic had been bound for crimes against the kingdom. Elian’s eyes fixed on the mark. “I was engaged once to a nobleman,” Claire explained. “It seemed like my one chance at a normal life, despite what I am.
But then he fell in love with my sister instead, the legitimate one. They planned to run away together. ” She paused, her fingers unconsciously touching the brand. “He died before they could leave, in a fire.
An isolated magical fire that burned only him. My elemental magic is fire. I was there that night. I was angry, and he died in flames.
Everyone assumed I’d killed him in a fit of rage. ”
“But you didn’t,” Elian said with utmost certainty. “I was never allowed to practice my magic. It was always wild, uncontrolled.
I can’t be certain I didn’t do it. ” Claire’s voice broke. “My father bound my magic after Eric’s death. He hated me already.
He said my mother had an affair with a wizard, that that’s where my magic came from. He banished her for it, though she denied it until the day she died. When my magic manifested, when the man my sister loved died by fire, it gave him the perfect excuse to be rid of me. ”
She looked down at Elian, at the frost spreading across his chest.
“I’m a witch, like the ones who cursed your family, like the ones your ancestor banned. I’m exactly what you’ve been taught to hate and fear. Let that kill your love for me. Let me be monstrous enough that you stop loving me and live.
”
Elian reached up with a trembling hand and cupped her cheek. “How can you say that? ” he said softly. “When I love you more now than I did a moment ago?
”
“No—”
“You were willing to let me see your deepest shame, your greatest fear, just to break my curse. How could I not love you more for that? You didn’t kill that man. I know you didn’t.
Your magic responds to your emotions, and you’re the kindest person I’ve ever known. Even in rage, even heartbroken, you wouldn’t kill. ”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m still a witch.
I’m still branded. ”
“The woman I love,” Elian finished. “The mother of my child. My queen.
And my mate. My everything. ”
His breathing was getting shallower. “You’ve made me so happy, Claire.
”
But even as he spoke, Elian’s eyes fluttered closed. His hand fell from her face. The frost spread further across his chest. “Elian?
” She gasped. He didn’t respond. Three weeks had passed since Milo’s birth. Three weeks of Claire barely sleeping, dividing her time between caring for her infant son and sitting vigil beside her dying husband.
The frost had spread from his chest to cover most of his torso. His lips were blue. His skin translucent. Yesterday, he’d stopped waking at all.
“I want a witch brought to the castle,” Claire said to the council. “A powerful one. Today. ”
The counselors exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“Your Majesty, which is permitted only for minor healing. Small potions, light charms—”
“The king is dying,” Claire cut him off. “The healers can do nothing. I am queen regent while the king is incapacitated, and I will use that power if I must.
Bring me a witch, or I will disband this council entirely and find people who will actually help me save my mate. ”
Silence. “There’s a powerful earth witch in the neighboring kingdom,” the first counselor said reluctantly. “We could send for her immediately.
”
“Do it. ”
The witch arrived that afternoon, an old woman with sharp eyes and gnarled hands. She examined Elian thoroughly while Claire hovered nearby, Milo sleeping against her shoulder. “Ice magic,” the witch said finally.
“A curse rooted deep, very old, very powerful. ”
“Can you break it? ”
“It’s a family curse, not just his own. That makes it much more difficult.
”
“Family? ” Claire looked down at Milo. “Does that mean my son will be cursed too? ”
“It’s possible, yes.
”
Claire felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her baby. Her innocent baby boy would carry this curse. “There must be a way to break it.
”
“Against ice, fire would be most effective. But I am an earth elementalist. ”
“I’m a fire witch,” Claire said quickly. “Could my magic work?
”
The witch’s eyes sharpened with interest. “A fire witch? ” She stopped, studying Claire more closely. “But your magic is bound.
I can feel the seal on you. ”
Claire’s heart sank. “Yes. My father had me bound years ago, after someone died and I was suspected of—”
“Wait.
” The witch stepped closer, peering at Claire’s face. “That’s why you look familiar. Is your father Alister Crane? ”
“Yes.
How did you—”
“I knew his mother. Your grandmother. Isabelle was my twin sister. ”
The world tilted.
“Your twin? But that would mean—”
“Yes. Your grandmother was a witch. ”
Claire’s mind reeled.
“My father’s mother was a witch? ”
“She was. When your grandfather found out, he had her killed, accused her of treason, some fabricated crime to get rid of her. He was furious at having married a witch and never told anyone in the family.
”
Understanding crashed over Claire like a wave. Her father had always hated her, always believed her mother had an affair because Claire had magic. But the magic hadn’t come from an affair at all. It had come from him.
“I need to speak to my father,” Claire said. “I need him to release the bind. ”
Claire rode through the afternoon, pushing her horse hard. The Crane estate loomed before her as the sun began to set.
She dismounted and strode toward the entrance, flanked by two of Elian’s personal guards. A servant tried to stop her. “My lady, your father is not receiving. ”
“He’ll receive his queen,” Claire said coldly.
Her father stood by the fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand. When he saw her, his face twisted with disgust. Celia stood from a corner, looking surprised. “You!
” he spat. “How dare you show your face here? ”
“I need you to release my bind,” Claire said. “Now.
”
Alister barked a laugh. “The Alpha King is dying,” Claire insisted. “I need my magic to save him. Release the bind.
”
“No. ”
“Father, please,” Celia began. “She’s a dangerous criminal,” Alister said. “I’ll not unleash her magic on the world again.
”
“You’ve always seen the worst in me,” Claire said. “I told you I had nothing to do with Eric’s death, but you didn’t believe me. Not even for a second. ”
“Of course I didn’t.
You’d lie to protect yourself. You’re just like your mother. ”
“Mother didn’t stray,” Claire said. “The witch powers came from you.
”
Silence crashed over the room. “What? ” Celia whispered. “Your grandmother, our grandmother, was a witch.
Your father had her killed when he discovered it. But she passed her magic down to you, Father, and to me. ”
Celia’s hand flew to her mouth. “Mother never betrayed us.
Father, is this true? ”
Claire watched her father’s face carefully, watched the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes flickered, and she realized the truth. “You’ve known. You’ve always known.
”
“What? No, he didn’t,” Celia began. “Yes. ” Alister’s voice was flat.
“Of course I knew. ”
Celia gasped. “What was I supposed to do? ” Alister demanded.
“Father had assured me all witch powers in our line were bound. Then my daughter manifests fire magic? Your mother refused to bind you, said it wasn’t natural, wanted to contact the Royal Academy for proper training. There was no way anyone would find out my daughter was a witch.
I needed your powers bound, and so your mother had to go. ”
The casual way he said it, as if he were discussing the weather, made Claire’s blood run cold. Celia stumbled backward, her face white. “How could you?
She was our mother. She loved us, loved you. ”
“Daughter, I was always proud of who you’d become,” Alister said dismissively. “Don’t disappoint me now.
”
“Why get rid of Mother at all if you just wanted to bind Claire? ” Celia cried. “Why not just bind her and let Mother live? ”
“I did have her bound,” Alister said, affronted.
“I had Claire bound immediately, the very day after the magic manifested. ”
Both Claire and Celia went very still. Because Claire’s magic had manifested when she’d turned thirteen. If she’d been bound since then, then…
Celia’s voice shook. “How did she kill Eric? If she was already bound, how did she use magic to kill him? ”
For just a moment, Alister looked uncertain.
“You killed him,” Claire breathed. “You killed Eric. ”
“That’s impossible,” Celia said, shaking her head. “Eric was killed with fire magic.
Everyone said so. The fire was too specific, too targeted for it to be an accident. ” She stopped, her eyes went wide. “You also have fire magic,” she said, pointing at their father with a trembling finger.
“That’s how Claire inherited it. You could have—”
“Celia’s right,” Claire said, stepping forward. “You knew Mother was innocent. You knew I was bound.
You knew you had fire magic. You killed Eric to frame me, didn’t you? ”
Alister’s face went red. “It was two birds with one stone.
Get rid of that commoner unworthy of Celia, and get rid of you. ” He pointed at Claire with shaking rage. “I could finally be rid of the reminder of my shame. ”
He never finished the sentence.
Celia’s fist connected with his nose with a sickening crunch. Alister stumbled backward, blood streaming from his face. His head hit the edge of the mantle as he fell, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Silence.
Claire and Celia stared at each other across their father’s prone body. “Sister, I—” Celia began, her voice shaking. She looked horrified at what she’d done, embarrassed, guilty. “Later,” Claire said firmly.
“I need the seal. I need to break my bind and save Elian. Do you know where Father keeps it? ”
Celia nodded quickly and ran from the room.
Claire stood over her father’s unconscious form, feeling nothing. No anger. No satisfaction. Just emptiness.
He hated me my whole life for something that came from him, she thought distantly. He killed my mother, killed Eric, ruined my life, all to hide his own shame. Celia returned breathless, pressing a small carved box into Claire’s hands. “Here.
The seal is inside. ”
“Thank you. I’ll send for the guards. Have Father arrested.
I’ll testify about what he did, about everything. ”
Claire studied her sister, this woman who’d hated her for years, who’d believed her a murderer, but who’d just punched their father and was now offering to stand against him. “Thank you,” Claire said again, softer this time. “I’m sorry,” Celia whispered.
“For everything. For believing him. ”
“Later,” Claire repeated, gently. “After.
We’ll talk after. ”
She pressed some of her guards to stay with Celia, then mounted her horse. The sun was setting as she rode back toward the castle, the seal clutched tight in her hand. Six months later, Claire stood in the training courtyard, flames dancing between her fingers.
The fire responded to her will now, controlled, beautiful, no longer wild. “Good,” the old witch said. “Now shape it. ”
Claire concentrated, and the flames spiraled upward, forming a perfect helix before dissipating.
She desperately needed to catch up on years of having her powers bound. When the seal had broken, power had flooded back into her veins like water released from a dam. She remembered placing her burning hands on Elian’s frozen chest, worried she’d hurt him. But the frost had melted.
After days, his eyes had opened. “Claire? ” His voice had been hoarse. “You’re alive,” she’d sobbed.
The memory still made her throat tight. “Your Majesty? ” Claire turned to see Celia approaching with Milo. The baby squealed at seeing her.
“Someone wanted his mama,” Celia said, passing him over. Claire kissed his chubby cheek. “How was the council meeting? ” Celia had taken a seat on the council after their father’s lands and title were stripped.
Alister Crane now sat in a cell, convicted of murder and conspiracy. “Productive. The new academy for young witches is nearly complete. ”
Claire smiled.
Elian’s first act after recovering had been to lift the ban on witchcraft entirely. “Your Majesty. ” A guard bowed. “The king requests your presence in the gardens.
”
Claire’s heart skipped, the mate bond singing. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly. ”
She found Elian by the roses, Milo napping against her shoulder. He looked healthy now, color in his cheeks, warmth in his skin.
The curse was broken completely, not just for Elian, but for the entire bloodline. Milo would never suffer as his father had. “My queen,” Elian said, smiling. He pulled her close, careful not to wake the baby, and kissed her temple.
“And my son. ”
“He wanted to see you. ”
“Boy knows what he wants. ” Elian stroked Milo’s hair.
“Like his father. ”
Claire laughed. “Like his father? Is that so?
”
“I wanted you from the first moment I touched you. Even when I was trying to convince myself I didn’t. ” Elian cupped her face. “You saved me, Claire.
In every way a person can be saved. ”
“We saved each other,” she corrected softly. “We were both hiding, both deceiving each other and ourselves. ”
“And yet,” Elian said, “we found freedom anyway.
”
Claire thought of that moment when she’d removed her veil, shown him her shame, hoping it would save him, when he’d loved her all the more for it. She took his hand. “The maids can watch Milo tonight,” Elian said, his voice dropping. “I want you to myself.
”
Heat bloomed in Claire’s cheeks. “Your Majesty. ”
“Elian,” he corrected. “Always Elian when we’re alone.
”
She thought of everything they’d been through. The auction, the contract marriage built on lies, the nights in darkness where truth had emerged. They’d both entered this marriage seeking escape, but neither had expected love. Love had found them anyway.
And in loving each other, they’d freed not just themselves, but an entire kingdom.
