The queen smoothed her trembling hands over the golden silk of her gown and paused in the doorway. Twenty-two days. Twenty-two days since she had seen her mate, Oruron, the Alpha King. They had never been apart this long, and their bond demanded closeness.
She had heard rumors. Whispers that followed her through the palace halls like shadows. But she refused to believe them. Oruron loved her.
He had made her his queen despite her lack of wolf. His love for her was absolute. “He loves me,” she told herself. “He chose me.
Nothing else matters. ”
Through their bond, she felt him now. Content. Happy.
Radiantly, wonderfully happy. She had been silly to worry. She pushed open the carved doors, a smile already forming on her lips. The smile died.
Oruron sat at their table, resplendent in deep burgundy velvet. Across from him, in the chair that had sat empty for twenty-two endless days, sat Lady Reva. His first love. More beautiful than memory had painted her.
The scent hit Cersei like a blade between the ribs. Even without the gift of shifting, her shifter blood gave her senses too keen for mercy. Oruron’s musk clung to Reva’s skin like a claiming. “Ah, my queen.
” Oruron rose from his chair, his voice carrying genuine delight. He cupped her face with familiar tenderness and kissed her cheek. “Darling, I was just about to send for you. Perfect timing, as always.
”
His arm slipped around her waist with practiced ease. “You remember Lady Reva, of course. ”
“How could she forget the woman Oruron had loved with the passionate devotion of youth? ” Reva inclined her head with perfect deference.
“Your Majesty. How lovely to see you again. ”
The words were flawlessly proper, but underneath lay a confidence that made Cersei’s chest tighten. Oruron’s attention immediately turned to Reva.
He pulled out her chair with the kind of solicitous care usually reserved for fragile crystal. “Careful, my dear. You must not overexert yourself in your condition. ”
Pride radiated from him like heat from a forge, traveling through their bond with an intensity that made Cersei’s knees weak.
“Congratulations on your pregnancy, Lady Reva,” Cersei said, confused by her mate’s reaction. Reva’s smile was grace itself. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It is an honor beyond words.
”
“Indeed it is. ” Oruron settled into his chair, his eyes never leaving Reva’s face. Then he announced, as if discussing the weather, “The child is mine, of course. Ours, truly yours and mine, Cersei.
”
Cersei’s heart skipped. “I’m sorry. What did you just say? ”
Through their bond, she felt his overwhelming joy.
There was no deception here, no guilt. Only pride, and deep gratitude toward Reva. “I know this must be overwhelming,” he continued, his voice gentle. “But Reva has most kindly agreed to do what you cannot, for the good of the realm.
She will bear us a strong, healthy heir. A son with the shifting blood necessary to secure our line. ”
Reva’s hand moved protectively to her belly. “I want only what is best for the realm, Your Majesty, and for your happiness.
”
“You see? ” Oruron’s grip on Cersei’s hand tightened. “She understands. You will help raise him, of course.
He will be ours in every way that matters. Our son, our heir, the future we always dreamed of. ”
“May I speak with you privately? ” Cersei snapped.
Oruron’s brow drew together. “Anything you wish to say about our heir should be said in front of his mother. ”
At that moment, the bond between them betrayed every secret he thought he was keeping. Images flooded Cersei’s mind.
Reva beneath him in tangled sheets, crying out his name. His hands, the same hands that touched Cersei with careful, dutiful gentleness, mapping Reva’s curves with desperate hunger. And through it all, his desire. Not the patient, careful affection he showed his wife, but the raw, consuming hunger of a man utterly, helplessly in love.
Cersei gasped and stumbled backward until the stone wall caught her shoulders. “Cersei—” Oruron rose from his chair. “Excuse me. ”
She walked from the room with the measured, precise steps of a woman who still remembered how to be a queen.
Only when the carved doors closed behind her did she break into a run. Through the gardens, past the flowers that bloomed in neat, perfect rows, toward the wild forest beyond. Behind her, carried on the bond she could neither break nor escape, came his voice. “Darling, where are you going?
Come back. We should discuss arrangements for the nursery. ”
Not worried. Not guilty.
Simply puzzled. The mild confusion of a man who could not fathom why anyone would be upset by such perfectly reasonable, even generous arrangements. Running through the trees, sobbing like a chastised child, Queen Cersei realized her mate had never loved her. Not like she loved him.
—
Her legs gave out somewhere between an ancient oak and a stream, miles from the palace walls. Her chest burned. This couldn’t be real. The sapphire silk of her gown, Oruron’s favorite, was torn now, caught on thorns and stained with tree sap.
The bond hummed between her ribs like a plucked string. He was still happy. “My love, where are you? ” His voice drifted through their connection.
“Come back. Don’t be dramatic. ”
She dug her nails into the dirt. Dramatic?
Her mate had invited a third party into their union, and she was being dramatic? “Cerse, you’re being childish,” his voice echoed. “Come home. We’ll talk about this.
”
The condescension made her teeth ache. A branch snapped in the undergrowth. Shadows pulled between the trees. The cheerful bird songs had given way to the rustle of things that preferred darkness.
Another branch snapped, closer. Something large moved through the underbrush with deliberate patience. The wolf emerged from the shadows like a nightmare made flesh. Massive and scarred, with yellow eyes that held no recognition of her humanity.
A rogue. Feral. Hungry. Cersei scrambled backward.
She’d never managed to shift. Miles from the palace. No one was coming to save her. The beast lunged, and Cersei’s own beast responded.
A power she’d never known rushed through veins that suddenly felt too small. Her bones snapped like dry kindling. Her spine stretched with a grinding that echoed in her teeth. The pain was complete, overwhelming.
Her muscles tore and reformed. Her skull reshaped itself. Fur erupted from skin that had known only silk. She was no longer human when her paws hit the forest floor.
The wild wolf skidded to a halt, hunger replaced by confusion. Cersei snarled, and the sound from her throat was purely animal. Being betrayed by her mate was enough humiliation for one day. She would not die alone in these woods.
They circled each other. The rogue was larger, heavier, but feral. Its intelligence was dimmed. She was faster.
When it lunged again, she dodged and weaved. But the rogue was cunning. It pivoted faster than she expected, and its teeth closed around her right forepaw with crushing force. She screamed, a sound no human throat could make.
The rogue released her, perhaps startled, perhaps satisfied. She crashed to the forest floor. The rogue began to circle again, taking its time now. But the scent of her blood carried more than injury.
It carried the musk of an alpha. The wild creature’s instincts warred—hunger against caution. Caution won. With a final growl of frustration, the wolf melted back into the shadows, leaving her alone with her pain.
—
Bronn crept through the forest with his wooden bow clutched in sweaty hands, following the deer trail to the stream where Papa had set the rabbit snares. His stomach growled loud enough to scare away any game. There hadn’t been bread at breakfast, just watery porridge, because Roslin had eaten the last heel of yesterday’s loaf. The traps hung empty again.
Three days running. Papa’s face was getting that pinched look it wore when the coin purse felt too light and winter seemed too close. That’s when he heard the whimpering. It came from near the water, soft and broken.
A wolf lay collapsed beside the stream, its silver-white fur matted with dirt and dried blood. It was beautiful, even hurt. The most beautiful thing Bronn had ever seen that wasn’t his mama. “It’s okay,” Bronn whispered, crouching low.
“I won’t hurt you. ”
The wolf’s ears pricked forward at his voice, but it didn’t try to run. Up close, he could see how thin it was beneath the dirt-caked fur. One front paw was swollen and bloody.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you? ” He reached for his lunch bundle, just bread and hard cheese. The wolf’s eyes tracked his movements. He held out bread on his palm.
The wolf hesitated, then leaned forward and took the food with careful teeth. It ate like it was starving, but gently, never once coming close to biting his fingers. “Don’t worry,” Bronn whispered. “I’ll help you.
I’ll come back tomorrow with more food. ”
The wolf tilted its head like it understood every word. Bronn barely slept that night. He was up before dawn, wrapping leftover rabbit meat in a clean cloth.
The wolf was exactly where he had left it, curled beneath the overhanging roots of a willow tree. “You’re still here,” Bronn said, relief flooding his voice. This time the wolf struggled to its feet, favoring its injured paw, and limped forward. Its tail gave a tentative wag.
Over the next days, a routine formed. Morning visits before dawn, evening visits after supper, always with food smuggled from their meager stores. The wolf grew stronger. It could walk without limping now.
“You miss someone, too, don’t you? ” Bronn whispered one afternoon. The wolf pressed its nose against his hand. The hardest part was keeping the secret at home.
“Where have you been disappearing to every day? ” Papa asked at dinner. “Just exploring. ”
“The woods aren’t safe for a boy alone.
”
On the fourth morning, Bronn crept from the cottage carrying cold porridge and dried meat. The wolf was waiting, tail wagging. “Good morning, girl. I brought breakfast.
”
“Bronn. ”
The single word, spoken in Papa’s quiet, dangerous voice, made him freeze. His father stood twenty feet away with his hunting bow ready, his eyes on the wolf that stood frozen beside Bronn’s legs. “Step away from the wolf,” he said, deadly calm.
“Slowly now. ”
—
Cersei heard the voice before she saw the man. He emerged from the trees, tall and broad-shouldered, with quiet strength that came from years of hard work rather than birthright. His hunting bow was raised, an arrow knocked and aimed directly at her heart.
He was scared. Not for himself, but for his son. “Papa, no! ” Bronn started.
“I said move, Bronn. ”
Cersei struggled to her feet despite the fire shooting through her injured paw and positioned herself between the man and Bronn. If someone was getting shot today, it would be her. “Get away from my son.
”
“Papa, she’s not dangerous. She’s my friend. ”
“That’s a wild animal. ”
“She’s not wild.
She listens. She’s been listening for days. ”
“Days? ” The father’s attention snapped to his son.
“You’ve been coming here for days? ”
The anger began to drain from the man’s face as he looked at her injured paw. He lowered his bow and approached slowly. “Bronn,” he said after a moment.
“Your wolf is a girl. ”
He crouched near her paw. “Infected. Needs cleaning and binding.
” He looked up at his son. “She’s been living on what you brought her? ”
“Can we keep her? ” Bronn asked, bright with hope.
“We don’t keep wild animals, son. ”
“But she’s hurt. She needs us. ”
Cersei watched the conflict play across the father’s face.
Responsibility warring with compassion. Men always chose duty in the end. But he surprised her. “We’ll bring her to the shed,” he said.
“Not the house. While she heals,” he added firmly. “Then she goes back to the forest. ”
Of course.
Temporary. The story of Cersei’s life. He returned with a crude wooden cart. “Easy now,” he murmured as he lifted her.
“This is going to hurt. ”
She tensed at being handled by male hands, but his grip was firm without being controlling. He noticed her tension. “I know,” he said quietly.
“Almost there. ”
The cottage was small but well-maintained, with a struggling garden and chicken coop. He placed her in a dry shed that smelled of wood shavings and hay. Then he reached for a length of rope, and Cersei’s world tilted sideways.
No. Not another chain. Another cage. Another reminder that she was property to be contained.
She growled before she could stop herself, pulling back with teeth bared. The man froze. “Hey,” he said softly, showing her the rope. “Easy.
I’m sorry. Truly. But I won’t risk you hurting my children. ”
The apology in his voice was real.
She made a sound that was half growl, half scoff. The man stopped and stared at her. “Did you just scoff at me? ”
She looked away quickly, trying to appear innocent.
That’s when the door burst open, and chaos entered in the form of a three-year-old girl with wild curls and fearless joy. “Doggy! ” she shrieked, launching herself at Cersei. “Roslin!
No! ”
But she was already wrapping her small arms around Cersei’s neck. “Big doggy. Soft doggy.
”
The child’s scent was pure innocence. Sunshine and milk and life itself. Something deep in Cersei’s chest cracked open. Through the bond, Oruron’s voice chose that moment to intrude.
“Where are you, Cersei? I need you. Come back to me. ”
Cersei whimpered despite herself.
“Shh,” the little girl murmured, arms tightening around her. Simple comfort from a tiny human who didn’t know she was holding a queen. Cersei felt her heart break and heal simultaneously. —
The days settled into a routine that was both blessing and torment.
Lionus, for that was the man’s name, allowed supervised visits from the children. Bronn read to her every morning. Roslin brought flowers and mud tea that Cersei endured with patient grace. Lionus himself brought food twice daily and checked her healing paw with hands that grew gentler as her injury mended faster than any normal wolf should.
“You heal quick,” he observed one afternoon. “The children love you already. Bronn especially. ” He paused.
“He hasn’t been this happy since his mother died. ”
At night, the real torment began. Oruron’s voice was loudest in her mind. “Cersei, where are you?
I’m searching everywhere. I miss you. Our bed is cold without you. Come back to me, my love.
”
The bond tugged at her with biological imperative. Return to your mate. Accept your place. But then his voice would shift, taking on the reasonable tone that had become her nightmare.
“Think of our child, Cersei. The heir. You’re being selfish, worrying poor Reva. ”
Our child?
His child with Reva. Rage flooded through her. That’s how Lionus found her one night, when her distress had apparently been audible from the house. “I heard you,” he said quietly.
“What’s wrong? ” He knelt beside her. “Your paw? Is it hurting?
”
She forced herself to be still, focusing on him instead of the bond. His hands were warm and present in a way that made the distant pull of her mate seem less urgent. Instead of leaving, he settled with his back against a post. “My wife was the expert,” he said quietly.
“She taught me to care for wounded animals. She’d sit with them just like this until they calmed. ” His voice carried the weight of old grief. “Her name was Agnes.
She died two years ago, bringing Roslin into the world. ”
Then he said, “You understand every word I’m saying, don’t you? ” It wasn’t really a question. “You wouldn’t happen to be a shifter, would you?
”
Her heart stopped. She wanted to shift back, to tell him everything. But no matter how hard she tried, her body refused to obey. The wolf form that had saved her life now held her prisoner.
He waited patiently, then sighed when nothing happened. “Guess not,” he said. “Of course not. You would have shifted by now.
”
She wanted to. She just couldn’t. He smiled, kind, not condescending, and rose to leave. “Whatever you are,” he told her, turning back at the door, “you’re safe here.
”
—
Three weeks had passed, and Cersei had learned the rhythm of their lives. Her paw no longer ached. The infection had cleared completely. Every logical thought told her she should leave.
If Oruron’s soldiers found her here, what would happen to Lionus and his children? But each morning when she woke to Bronn’s eager footsteps, each afternoon when Roslin pressed wildflowers into her fur, the thought of leaving felt like tearing her own heart out. Today felt like all the others at first. Lionus had left before dawn to sell winter furs in the village market.
Bronn had been given the task of splitting an enormous pile of wood. Cersei dozed by the open door of her shed, listening to the rhythm of the boy’s work. He was strong for eight years old, but this was work for a grown man, and watching him struggle with burdens too heavy for his shoulders made something fierce protectiveness twist in her chest. Roslin played nearby.
“Look, doggy! ” she called, holding up a mud pie. “For you! ”
Cersei’s tail wagged before she could stop it.
The sound of small footsteps changed direction. Roslin was moving away from her play area. “Pretty,” she exclaimed. Cersei opened one eye.
Roslin was toddling toward the wood pile where Lionus kept his tools. The large axe sat embedded in a chopping stump, its handle worn smooth, perfectly positioned for small hands to reach. “Shiny! ” Roslin breathed, stretching up on her toes.
Cersei was on her feet before conscious thought could intervene, the rope jerking tight against her neck. “Roslin! ” Bronn shouted across the yard. Time slowed.
The axe began to tip. Roslin’s confused face turned upward. Through the bond, Oruron’s voice slammed into her mind like a fist. “Don’t reveal yourself.
Stay hidden. ”
The bond pulled at her with biological force, demanding obedience. But Roslin was her pup. Hers to protect.
Nothing would stop her. Cersei slammed the bond shut like a door closing. The shift happened as she leaped. Bones cracking and reshaping with familiar agony, fur dissolving into pale skin as she hit the ground hard on human knees.
Naked hands closed around the axe handle and wrenched it sideways, away from Roslin’s face. The momentum carried them both down in a tangle of limbs. Roslin tumbled safely on top of her. “Lady?
” she asked, staring down in confusion at the stranger who had appeared where her doggy used to be. Cersei tried to smile, though she suspected it looked more like a grimace. Her throat felt raw, voice unused for weeks. “It’s okay, little one.
You’re safe. ”
Bronn skidded to a halt when he saw not his sister in danger, but a naked woman holding her in the middle of the yard. “Who are you? ” he demanded, reaching for Roslin with shaking hands.
“Let her go. ”
Cersei released the child immediately. “Where’s my wolf? ” Bronn asked.
The question broke her heart. “I’m your wolf,” Cersei replied. Bronn frowned. “Impossible.
”
“Your king is a shifter, is he not? ” Cersei asked gently, sitting up slowly. “Yeah, so? ”
“So am I.
”
She watched understanding dawn across his young face like sunrise. “You’re—” he breathed, unable to finish. “I’m your wolf,” Cersei said simply. “And I’m also your queen.
”
—
An hour later, Cersei sat cross-legged on the cottage floor, wearing a dress that belonged to a dead woman. Bronn had pulled it from his mother’s trunk without hesitation. “So you really are the wolf? ” He asked for the third time.
“Yes, Bronn. I really am. ”
“And you’re really the queen? ”
“Yes.
”
Heavy footsteps sounded on the porch. Bronn’s head snapped toward the door. “Papa’s home. ”
Lionus stepped inside and stopped dead in the doorway.
The easy smile faded from his face as he took in the impossible scene. A strange woman sat on his floor wearing his dead wife’s dress, playing with his children. “Papa! ” Bronn launched himself at his father.
“She saved Roslin from the axe, and she’s magic! ”
Lionus’s hand moved instinctively to the knife at his belt. “Who are you? ” he asked.
“She’s our wolf, Papa. She’s a shifter. She changed to save Roslin. ”
“Bronn,” Lionus commanded, “take your sister upstairs now.
”
“But Papa—”
“Now. ”
When their footsteps faded, Lionus remained standing. “From the beginning,” he said. “Who are you?
”
“My name is Cersei of House Nelum. I’m a wolf shifter, though for most of my life I was unable to use my abilities. The first time I managed to shift was nearly a month ago. I was stuck in that form until—” She hesitated.
“Until? ”
“Roslin was in danger. I suppose the fear helped me change back. ”
“Why did you stay?
” Lionus interrupted. “You’re not an animal. Surely it wasn’t comfortable for you to sleep in a shed. ”
“The children,” she said.
“I’ve grown quite fond of them. And I have nowhere else to go. ”
Something in her admission seemed to surprise him. His rigid posture relaxed slightly.
“Why not? ” he asked, settling cautiously into his chair. “What happened? ”
“My mate,” she said, then bit her lip.
“He hurt me. So I left. ”
Lionus’s change was immediate. “He hit you?
”
“No. He would never hurt me physically. We are mated. He and I share a soul bond.
His emotions are mine, and mine are his. My pain is his pain. He wouldn’t physically harm me—it would hurt him as much as me. ”
Lionus’s eyes searched hers.
“But he did hurt you,” he said softly. Cersei fell quiet for a long moment. “He took a mistress,” she said, the words rushing out. “To bear him a child, because I… since I couldn’t shift.
He was worried my children wouldn’t be able to either. ”
The tears came then. She pressed her hands to her face, mortified. For a moment, Lionus sat frozen.
Then slowly, he rose and fetched water and a blanket. “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “I just don’t understand what’s so terrible about not being able to shift. ”
“You wouldn’t.
You’re human. For wolves, rank is everything. Oruron is the king. His heir not being able to shift would be…”
“Hold on.
” Lionus raised his hand. “Your mate is the king. ”
Cersei paused, realizing her mistake. “Oh.
Yes. ”
The color drained from Lionus’s face. “So that would make you the queen. ”
“Yes.
”
For a long moment, he simply stared at her. “The queen? Of the entire kingdom has been sleeping in my tool shed. ”
“You didn’t know I was the queen.
And your shed was fine. ”
He gave her a look of disbelief and dark humor. “I had nowhere else to go,” Cersei pressed. “I chose to stay, shed or not.
”
That seemed to settle something in him. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Queen or not, shifter or not, no one deserves to be betrayed by the person they love. ”
The tears came again.
This time, when he didn’t move to comfort her, she understood it was respect for her space rather than rejection. “I don’t know what to do,” Cersei admitted. “I don’t know how to survive on my own. I’ve been queen my whole adult life.
And I’m afraid. The bond is quiet now—I managed to close it when I shifted to save Roslin—but I don’t know if it will stay closed. What if I see him again and I’m too weak to say no? ”
Lionus studied her for a long time, his gaze fixed on the fire.
Then he said, “You can stay here. Until you figure it out. ”
Cersei’s head snapped up in surprise. “You saved my daughter’s life today,” he continued.
“And before that, you made my son happier than he’s been since his mother died. You’ve been kind to my children. That matters more to me than titles or politics or kings. ” He leaned back in his chair.
“If the king comes looking, we’ll deal with it then. But until then, you’re welcome here, for as long as you need. ”
The warmth that spread through her chest was so foreign after months of conditional love that it took her a moment to recognize it as hope. —
A month later, Cersei was helping a little girl stack blocks into towers that defied gravity.
“Higher, Mama! Make it tall! ” Roslin exclaimed. The name still made her heart squeeze with fierce joy and deeper terror.
At the table by the window, Bronn hunched over his letters. “Cerse? How do you spell dragon again? ”
She moved to sit beside him, spelling slowly, watching as he formed each letter with careful strokes.
The darkness outside was complete now. Lionus should have been home hours ago. She settled the children for bed with stories and gentle touches, but her attention remained fixed on the empty doorway. When movement finally came from the porch, it wasn’t the confident stride she’d been hoping for.
Cersei opened the door and found Lionus sitting on the steps, his bow forgotten beside him, a bottle clutched in his hands. The sharp scent of alcohol hung in the cold air. “Lionus? ”
He startled and looked up, his eyes unfocused.
“Cersei. ” His words carried the careful precision of a man trying not to slur. She settled beside him on the step, ignoring the cold. “This isn’t like you.
”
“No,” he said with a laugh that held no humor. “It’s the anniversary,” he said finally, his voice cracking. “Of Agnes’s death. Three years today.
” He paused. “Most days I’m better. Good, even. Especially lately.
The children are happy. The house is warm again. ” His eyes found hers in the moonlight. “But today I just miss her.
”
She extended her hand. “Come inside. ”
He swayed slightly when he stood, so she stepped closer. His hand found her waist, supposedly for balance, but his fingers lingered there even when he’d found his footing.
Inside, she urged him into the large chair by the fire and fetched blankets. When she returned, she found him watching her with an appreciation that was far from subtle. She handed him the blanket, but instead of taking it, he caught her hand and tugged gently. “Stay here.
”
Before she could think of reasons to refuse, she found herself settling on the rug at his feet. His fingers threaded through her hair. “Beautiful,” he murmured so quietly she almost missed it. “You’ve been very kind to me, Your Highness,” he said, his hand slipping from her hair to cup her cheek.
“I’ve asked you to call me Cersei. ”
“I know. But I prefer not to. ”
“Why not?
”
“So I don’t forget what you are. ”
Cersei tensed. “What I am? ”
He leaned down, bringing his face level with hers.
“A beautiful royal,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “Far above my station. ”
Understanding dawned. “You think I’m beautiful?
”
“Look at you,” he said softly. “You’re blushing. That’s very charming, Your Highness. ” His hand traced her jawline, then brushed across her bottom lip.
His scent changed completely then, the familiar comfort of woodsmoke and earth suddenly sharp with unmistakable hunger. “Cerse,” he breathed, and it was the first time he had used her name without prompting. When he leaned down from the chair, she rose on her knees to meet him. Their lips came together in a kiss that started soft and questioning but within heartbeats turned desperate and hungry.
She pulled him down until her body fitted against his as if she belonged there. “God, Cersei,” he groaned against her lips. His mouth trailed along her jaw, and she gasped, her head falling back. This was what she’d been craving without even knowing it.
This feeling of being wanted. She was drowning in sensation when he pulled back to look at her, his eyes glassy. “You’re beautiful,” he slurred, reaching for her again. Reality crashed back.
The empty bottle on the porch. The grief that had driven him to drink. “Wait,” she breathed against his lips. “Lionus, perhaps we should…”
“Should what?
” he murmured. “We can’t,” she said more firmly. “I can’t. Not when…”
His face crumpled.
Then he released her. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “Of course you’re right. What was I thinking?
” He pushed himself up from the chair, backing toward the hallway. “You’ve been nothing but kind—to me, to my children—and I took advantage. That was wrong of me. ”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
“Forgive me, Your Highness.
”
The formal address was back, a wall built of guilt and propriety. He turned and disappeared down the hall. His door closed with a soft click, leaving her alone by the dying fire with swollen lips and a heart that hammered against her ribs. —
Cersei had slept badly.
She rose before the children stirred, building up the fire, setting water to boil. Perhaps he would kiss her again, sober and deliberate. The door to his chamber opened, and Lionus emerged. “Good morning, Your Highness,” he said, his voice carefully neutral as he pulled on his boots.
The words hit her like cold water. He stood and reached for his hunting pack. “Thank you for breakfast,” he said, though she had prepared nothing yet. “I should check the traps.
The weather looks to turn. ” Then he was gone. Had he forgotten? Drink could steal memories.
But the alternative was worse—that he remembered everything and simply did not care. The pattern repeated itself the next day, and the day after that. Lionus was polite, distant, careful. The title hung between them like a blade.
It was Bronn who finally gave voice to what they all felt. “Are you angry at each other? ” he asked one evening. “We’re not angry, sweetheart.
” But even as she spoke, she knew it was a lie. Anger was building inside her, hot and bitter. Not at what had happened, but at how he was choosing to pretend it never occurred. The breaking point came the following day.
Lionus returned from town with supplies. “Your Highness, where should I store the extra grain? ” he asked without looking up. The casual dismissal ignited something that had been smoldering for days.
“The same place it always goes,” she snapped. He paused. “Are you feeling unwell? ”
“Oh, I’m fine.
” The words were sharp enough to cut. “Your Highness,” he began, but she cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “Don’t call me that. ”
She turned toward the door.
“Where are you going? ”
“Out. ”
She grabbed her cloak and pushed through the door into the cold evening air. The forest welcomed her with familiar whispers.
Here she could admit the truth she had been hiding even from herself. She was in love with Lionus. And he did not feel the same. She found the spare axe embedded in a stump and wrenched it free.
The first swing sent vibrations up her arms. Thunk. Her stupidity. How many times would she do this to herself?
Thunk. Falling for another man who didn’t want her. Her hands began to blister, but she welcomed the sting. The gnawing emptiness in her chest was proving far more persistent.
“Cersei. ”
She froze with the axe raised. No. Not now.
“I feel your pain, my love,” Oruron said in her mind. The bond that had been mercifully silent for weeks suddenly blazed to life. “Go away,” she snarled aloud, bringing the axe down. “You’re suffering.
Come home. Let me comfort you. Whatever happened there, whatever that man did to hurt you, you don’t belong there, darling. You belong with me.
”
She chopped faster, harder. “Cersei! ”
She spun toward the sound, axe still raised, and found Lionus striding through the underbrush. “What in the seven hells do you think you’re doing?
You’re bleeding. ”
“I’m fine. Go back to the cottage. ”
“Like hell.
” In one fluid motion, he stepped forward and caught the axe mid-swing, his larger hands closing over hers on the handle. “You’ll hurt yourself. ”
“I’m a shifter. I’ll heal fast.
” She tried to twist away, but his grip was iron. “Let me go. ”
“What’s wrong? Cersei, what’s wrong?
”
She stopped fighting then, going very still as all the rage and hurt rose up to choke her. “You kissed me,” she accused. “You kissed me, Lionus. You called me beautiful.
You wanted me. I could smell it. And then you… pretended it never happened. Do you even remember?
”
Lionus stared at her for a long moment. “I remember,” he said quietly. “Then you regret it. ”
“Of course I do,” he said.
“How could I not? ” His voice was rough with anguish. “You’re a queen, Cersei. I’m not presumptuous enough—especially if that queen is you—to fancy myself worthy of you.
”
She gaped at him. “I’m not a queen anymore. I’m just a woman. A woman you kissed.
”
He stepped closer until they were almost chest to chest. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “For kissing you when I had no right. And for pretending it never happened, when it’s all I’ve been thinking about ever since.
When it’s all I can do not to do it again. ”
She couldn’t suppress the sound that escaped her throat. “Do it again,” she breathed. “Cersei.
” His voice was strained, barely holding on. But before either of them could close the final distance, the sharp crack of a breaking branch echoed through the forest. They froze, suddenly alert to the sound of approaching footsteps. Many footsteps, moving with the disciplined rhythm of trained soldiers.
Through the trees came a flash of gold. Armor catching the afternoon light like a beacon. Then another, and another, until a full dozen guards in royal livery emerged from the forest. And at their head, tall and regal and utterly impossibly present, walked King Oruron.
—
His golden hair caught the light like a crown. His handsome features arranged in an expression of relief and joy as his eyes found Cersei. The bond surged with such force that she gasped aloud. “There you are, my love,” Oruron said, walking toward her with confident strides.
“I found you at last. ”
Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. The mate bond sang with satisfaction. “What came over you, my love?
” he murmured against her hair. “How could you leave me? Do you have any idea how worried I was? ”
Through the bond, she felt genuine concern.
Relief so profound it made her knees weak. She pulled away. “What are you doing here, Oruron? ”
“Looking for you, obviously.
” His gaze flicked dismissively to their surroundings. “I wouldn’t come all the way here for fun. ” Then he focused on Lionus with polite disinterest. “And who is this?
”
“This is Lionus,” Cersei said. “He and his family have kindly allowed me to stay with them. ”
Lionus gave a curt nod. “Your Majesty.
”
“Yes,” Oruron said with a dismissive wave. “How kind. ” He turned back to Cersei. “Now we can finally go home.
”
A sound escaped Lionus, something between a scoff and a laugh, bitter enough to make both royals look at him sharply. “Yes, peasant,” Oruron asked. “Anything you’d like to say? ”
“It’s not my place to say anything, Your Highness.
”
“No,” Oruron agreed with satisfaction. “It isn’t. ”
“However,” Lionus continued, his tone still perfectly neutral, “if I were the queen, I would say it’s bold of you to assume she wants to go anywhere with you. ”
The temperature in the clearing seemed to drop ten degrees.
Oruron went very still. “Leave us,” he commanded, the words carrying all the weight of royal authority and alpha dominance. But Lionus remained where he was. “I don’t think so,” he said calmly.
Before the situation could escalate further, Cersei stepped between them. “Lionus. Leave us. This is a private matter.
”
She saw the hurt flicker across his face, quickly suppressed. “Please,” she said more gently. For a long moment, he studied her face. Then he nodded once, sharp and decisive.
“I’ll be at home,” he said, the words clearly meant for Oruron as much as for her. “If you need anything. ”
When his footsteps had faded, Oruron’s mask of composure slipped. “I can’t believe you just left,” he said, genuine hurt in his voice.
“Without a word, without explanation. You closed our bond so completely, I couldn’t even tell if you were alive. ”
“You hurt me. ”
Oruron looked genuinely shocked.
“How did I? What are you talking about? ”
“Your mistress. Your child.
Flaunting them both in front of me and expecting me to be grateful for the privilege. ”
Understanding dawned in his golden eyes, followed by relief. “Right. Well, that’s in the past now, Cersei.
” He waved his hand as if dismissing a minor inconvenience. “All of that is behind us. ”
The casual dismissal made her jaw clench. “I felt it, you see, through the bond when it reopened.
Your transformation. You managed to shift, didn’t you, darling? ”
“Yes. ”
Oruron’s joy was immediate and overwhelming.
He stepped close and kissed her, a quick press of lips that tasted of triumph. “Oh, darling, how relieved I am! This means we can conceive properly now. There’s a chance our children won’t be defective.
”
Cersei went very still. “Defective? Like you are? Well, were.
” Another casual wave. Seeing her expression, his face softened. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, my love. You know your lack of wolf doesn’t change how I feel about you.
”
“Especially now that I can shift,” Cersei said slowly. “Yes, quite. Everything will be perfect now. ”
A cold knot formed in Cersei’s stomach.
“I’m not defective, Oruron. ”
“I know that. You’ve proven it now. ”
“No.
” The word came out harder than she intended. “I didn’t need to prove anything. I was never defective to begin with. ”
Oruron chuckled.
“Well, my love, one would say a shifter who cannot shift is—”
“And what of the humans in your kingdom? Are they defective? ”
Oruron paused, clearly confused. “Not defective.
Just human. ”
Through the bond, she felt what that word meant to him. Lesser. “Oh, I see what this is,” Oruron sighed.
“It’s about that peasant of yours, isn’t it? Yes, I felt your desire for him through the bond. Pretty crass of you not to shield that from me better. ”
The casual criticism hit like a slap.
“Like how you shielded your many nights of passion with Lady Reva? ”
“I was doing my duty. ”
“And enjoying it a whole lot. ”
The accuracy of the blow registered on his face.
His expression softened, and he reached for her hands with practiced ease. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. Truly sorry.
Consider Reva gone. I’ll dismiss her from court immediately. You get rid of your human pet, and we’ll never speak of this again. We don’t need them, Cersei.
We’re the king and queen. Our children will be perfect. ”
He extended his hand. “I love you, Cersei.
Let me prove it to you. Let me fix this. ”
For a moment, she almost reached for him. The bond hummed with his sincerity, his desperate need to make things right.
This was the man she had married, offering her everything she had once thought she wanted. But the words echoed in her mind. Your human pet. Spoken with the same casual dismissal he used when telling her to be grateful to Reva.
“Will you come home with me? ” Oruron asked. Cersei stared at his outstretched hand and saw everything it represented. Safety, certainly.
Love of a sort. A return to the life she had known. All she had to do was take it, and she could be queen again. The silence stretched between them, heavy with possibility.
—
The cottage had never felt smaller than it did in that moment, with two small bodies pressed against Cersei’s sides and the weight of her decision crushing down on all three of them. “Don’t go, Mama! ” Roslin sobbed, the words muffled against Cersei’s shoulder. “Please don’t go.
”
Each repetition felt like a knife twisting in Cersei’s chest. She wrapped her arms tighter around both children. “It’s not forever,” she whispered. “I promise, little love.
We’ll see each other again. ”
Bronn pulled back to look at her. “When? ”
Cersei’s throat closed around the honest answer—that she didn’t know.
“As soon as possible,” she said, and meant it with every fiber of her being. The sound of horses outside broke the moment. Through the window, she could see Oruron waiting, and beside him stood another horse, saddled and ready. The children walked with her to the door.
Lionus waited by the horses, his face carefully neutral, but his scent carrying undercurrents of unease that made her wolf whine. She should have explained. She should have taken him aside and told him why she’d decided to leave. But when she had announced her decision, Lionus had simply nodded.
No protests, no questions, no indication that her leaving mattered to him. He hadn’t asked her to stay. And she was done chasing after men who didn’t want her enough to fight for her. “Your Highness,” Lionus said with a brief nod.
“Lionus. ” She nodded back. He stepped forward and extended his hand to help her mount. “Have a safe trip,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Before she could respond, Roslin’s voice cut through the morning air. “Don’t go, Mama! ” The little girl tried to run toward the horse, but Bronn caught her around the waist. “Thank you, Lionus,” Cersei managed.
“For the hospitality you’ve shown me. ”
“Yes, peasant,” Oruron said, pulling at his reins. “Thank you for your services to your queen. ”
Anger flickered in Lionus’s eyes.
“Oh, it was my pleasure, Your Highness,” he snapped. Cersei’s pulse quickened despite herself. “Was it? ” she challenged.
Lionus met her gaze directly for the first time since she had announced her departure. Her heart stumbled. Did he care? Could he possibly feel even a fraction of what was tearing her apart?
“Absolutely,” he breathed, and it sounded like a confession. His chest rose and fell with careful, measured breaths. She caught the slight tremor in his hands. “Well,” Oruron muttered, “one does have to go home at some point.
I’m still her mate, after all. Not that a human would understand what that means. ”
Lionus turned to face the king directly. “Perhaps not.
In fact, a human would have to wonder, with how little he understands of mating bonds, how one could just decide to go behind his mate’s back to conceive a child with another, and then flaunt it as an accomplishment in his mate’s face. ”
The silence that followed was deafening. “Well—” Oruron began. But Cersei cut him off with a sharp gesture.
“This really isn’t any of your business,” she snapped at Lionus, though the words came out more wounded than angry. Lionus’s expression hardened. “No, I suppose not,” he said. “You’re the queen, after all.
You’re free to do as you please. ”
They stared at each other across a gulf that suddenly felt wider than kingdoms. Cersei felt something breaking inside her chest at the raw longing in his eyes. She was about to turn away when Lionus spoke again.
“One just has to wonder, Your Highness, how someone as extraordinary, loving, and brave as you could choose to return to a man who never understood the privilege he’s had to be loved by you. ”
Cersei gaped at him, her breath caught. “Oh, so it’s a privilege, is it? ”
“Yes,” Lionus said simply.
Tears pricked at her eyes. “You really think so? ”
Before Lionus could answer, Oruron’s exasperated voice cut through the moment. “Oh, for crying out loud.
She’s not coming back to me out of love, peasant. She’s coming back to finalize our divorce—and most importantly, the severance of our bond—before the great council. ”
Lionus blinked, his gaze snapping from Oruron to Cersei and back. “Sorry, what?
”
“Yes,” Cersei confirmed, her heart racing. “I’m the queen. I can’t just run off without legally ending our union. Also, a mating bond between royals must be severed before competent witnesses.
” She watched the confusion clear from Lionus’s face, replaced by something that might have been hope. “So, even though I already rejected our bond,” she added, “it’s my royal duty to present my case and choices to the court before I can be free to…” She trailed off, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. “Go back and live with your peasant? ” Oruron said, sounding thoroughly fed up.
Cersei ignored him, waiting for Lionus to say something. “You’re coming back? ” he asked finally, his voice low and careful. “Well, of course I’m coming back,” Cersei said, trying to sound casual even as her heart hammered.
“I wouldn’t just abandon the children. I plan to visit them. ”
Relief spread across Lionus’s face, so profound it was almost painful to witness. “The children would love to have you,” he swore, entirely too fervently.
“Visit as often as you want. For as long as you want. ”
“Stay forever! ” Bronn interjected from behind them.
Cersei smiled despite the tears that threatened to spill over. Before she could finish the thought, Lionus was there, reaching up to help her down from her horse. His hands closed around her waist with an assurance that spoke of barely contained emotion, and suddenly she was sliding down into his arms. This close, she could smell him.
Underneath his familiar scent, want and relief and a desperate kind of joy that mirrored her own. “I thought you regretted what happened between us,” she murmured. Lionus looked genuinely shocked. “Only because I thought I’d overstepped—that you didn’t want—”
“Shut up, Papa.
You’ll ruin it! ” Bronn’s voice cut across the forest. “Yes, kiss her, Papa. Kiss her!
”
“Yes, kiss her! ” Roslin added. Both Cersei and Lionus laughed, the sound breaking some of the tension. But when the laughter faded, they were still standing there in each other’s arms.
Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he cupped her face in his work-roughened hands. “Cerse,” he whispered. And then they were kissing. Soft and sweet, full of all the words they hadn’t been able to say.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she could hear Bronn cheering and Roslin clapping with delight. “I’ll come back,” she promised, her forehead pressed against Lionus’s. “I’ll come back to you. ”
“I’ll wait,” he said simply.
“We’ll all be here, waiting for you to come home. ”
Home. The word settled in her chest like a blessing. She kissed him again, quick and fierce, trying to memorize the taste of him to carry with her on her journey.
At the end of it all, she would be free to come back to this place—to her family, who loved her for exactly who she was.
