Princess Asha, has been raised to rule through discipline, devotion, and restraint. In a realm shaped by gods, ancient laws, and fractured portals, wanting freely is dangerous and carries consequence. Asha has learned to contain herself—her power, her body, and her desire—in service of a fragile political order shaped by divine influence and long-standing bargains.

Keith Dupont is ruled as much by instinct as by loss. withdrawn from leadership and wary of surrendering control.

Bound by duty long before they are bound by feeling, Asha and Keith deny the growing pull between them. Their connection deepens quietly, pressed down until it surfaces as desire neither of them can afford.

As ancient bargains resurface, Asha must navigate power, loyalty, and the cost of choice. Love offers no escape and every decision leaves a mark.

Prologue

The Drought and the Gift

A horrible drought had once befallen Amazura, in the final days of the gods, when the nation was nothing more than a modest village. With food scarce, their strength began to fail. Plundered and malnourished, the village elder’s wife prayed to the Sun Goddess Rahsha to save them.

In her dream, Rahsha instructed her to erect a temple in gratitude to both herself and her twin brother Summera, who carried her across the sky each day in the form of a phoenix.

The people obeyed. They built the temple, dedicating it to Rahsha and Summera. It was to be tended by the most chaste women in the land, for Rahsha would only reveal herself to the purest of hearts.

Overnight, a miraculous flower called the Night’s Bloom sprouted across the land. Animals came from all over to dine on the plant, and the villagers—following the teachings of Rahsha and Summera—became hunters. The soil flourished once more. Amazura thrived.

The Betrayal of Faith

In time, the people forgot their promises to the Sun Goddess. They stopped tending the temple until only a handful of maidens remained in service. Men began hunting for sport instead of survival. They enslaved others and turned Amazura into a pirate’s paradise of cruelty and greed.

The greatest offense came when the goddess’s most beloved maiden was defiled.

Isis of the Night was the most beautiful maiden in all the land—charming, virtuous, and the finest hunter Amazura had ever known. Chosen by Rahsha herself, she soon caught the eye of Rahsha’s brother, Summera.

Summera possessed the same divine gifts as his sister, but where Rahsha shone with discipline and authority, Summera radiated beauty and charm. For centuries he obeyed his sister’s will, carrying her faithfully across the heavens. Yet he could not deny his love for Isis.

The Forbidden Love

One night, after returning Rahsha home, Summera went back to the temple disguised as a golden wolf. Over many nights he gained Isis’s trust, teaching her the art of the hunt and the sanctity of life. In time, Isis too fell in love with him.

When she became pregnant with his child, she begged Summera to flee Amazura with her, but he could not bear to abandon his sister.

Rahsha soon noticed his nightly absences. Summera, once dutiful, now hurried her journey across the sky each day so he could escape to the temple by night. Curious and suspicious, Rahsha decided to follow him.

She discovered that her brother, in the form of a great golden wolf, was meeting with her beloved Isis—now visibly with child. The sight enraged her. All temple maidens had sworn vows of chastity; the betrayal cut deep.

When confronted, Isis and Summera fled.

The Great Wolf Hunt

In her grief, Rahsha was inconsolable. Her temple maidens tried to comfort her, but none could soothe her wounded pride. Then Nova, a cunning maiden seeking favor, offered to avenge the goddess’s pain. She begged to bear Rahsha’s wrath as a weapon and hunt the lovers down.

Rahsha granted her request. Brimming with divine fury, Nova led what became known as The Great Wolf Hunt.

Summera, unable to travel far with his pregnant wife, was soon overtaken. In the ensuing battle, Isis and her unborn child were slain. In his anguish, Summera destroyed all the maidens except Nova, who returned Isis’s body to Rahsha.

For years after, Summera carried Rahsha across the sky in silence, never resting. A second drought fell upon Amazura as no cloud dared pass through Rahsha’s burning domain.

The Bargain

At last, seeing her brother’s misery, Rahsha offered him a cruel choice: she would restore either Isis or the unborn child.

Summera, cunning even in grief, chose to bring Isis back exactly as she was before her death.

Rahsha, deceived, revived Isis—still heavy with child. The shock of rebirth drove Isis into labor, and she delivered a daughter unlike any other.

To commemorate this, Rahsha gifted Isis a diamond necklace called The Heart of the Moon, promising forgiveness if Isis swore never to see Summera again.

But Isis refused. She tore off the necklace and declared that Summera was her soul mate, that love and devotion could coexist.

In fury, Rahsha used the necklace to bind Isis’s spirit. Before Summera could intervene, Rahsha hurled the jewel into the heavens. It struck the passing moon, trapping Isis there for eternity. Summera was imprisoned within a mountain of light, doomed to watch his beloved forever but never touch her again.

The Daughter of the Moon

Their daughter, raised among maidens, never belonged. Each night she spoke with her mother, who now shone upon her as the Moon Goddess.

One night, under the moon’s gaze, the daughter met her soul mate. Knowing what fate awaited her, Isis hid divine power within her child. When Rahsha discovered the affair, she sent Nova once again to hunt the maiden down.

Before she could be captured, the girl transformed into a great golden wolf and escaped beyond the city walls.

Thus, the first wolf was born.

The Fall and the First Huntress

The daughter and her mate had twins—one male and one female. The son inherited his father’s hunger for conquest; the daughter her mother’s compassion.

The son waged war upon Amazura, enslaving Rahsha’s maidens. In remorse, his sister prayed to Rahsha for strength to stop him. Rahsha burdened her with divine wrath, and together with the daughters of the temple maidens, she confronted her brother.

Her vengeance consumed them both. Their mother died of grief, and Amazura was left in ruin.

When Rahsha’s fury subsided, the maiden saw what she had done. To atone, she became the First Huntress, training the surviving maidens to defend Amazura.

Those blessed—and cursed—by Rahsha’s wrath became the ancestors of the Amazuran women who exist today. Together, they built a sanctuary for women alone.

The Curse and the Ceremony

Rahsha decreed that no man would ever again set foot in her land. Any woman who broke her vow of chastity would inherit the Wrath of Rahsha, upon herself and her descendants, until penance was fulfilled.

Thus was born the Trial by Goddess Ceremony—a rite of purity and endurance.

Chapter One

The fifth lunar ECLIPSE

Asha lay lazily sprawled along the banks of a pond in the palace gardens, while her niece Sabine showed off her impressive diving skills. If she had not already seen her little dove raise her arms and leap from the moss-covered waterfall hundreds of times before, she might have been impressed.

To anyone else, the way Sabine sprang upward—backflipping twice before tagging her toes and straightening just in time to slip seamlessly into the water—was breathtaking. Still, Asha felt restless at the thought of the journey her little niece would soon be forced to take.

Today, she would have welcomed a splash, as the sun over their beautiful land of Amazura glared down with a burning intensity she could not ignore. On days like this, she fantasized about battling beneath the sun alongside the great Amazuran’s of the past—a glorious, blood-soaked clash where she smote the vile men who dared invade Amazura. The daydreams always began that way and ended with her standing victorious, protecting the virtue and riches of her home.

Before she could fully drift into her dreams of glory, what felt like a tidal wave crashed over her, dousing the flames stirring within. Sputtering, she snapped her eyes open—only to collide with Sabine, who hovered over her as Asha sprang upright.

“What in Rahsha’s name were you thinking, Sabine?” Asha called sharply.

“Owwww…” Sabine groaned. “You have been insufferably silent all morning. You have scarcely spared me a glance. I could be banished before the eclipse wanes, and you stand there brooding as though it were a pastime.” She pressed one hand to her forehead while wiggling her dripping fingers inches from Asha’s face with the other. “Whatever occupied your thoughts, it was clearly remarkable—for I was wicked impressive. I was impressive, was I not? Remarkable enough that the trial might be deemed unnecessary?”

Asha stiffened, finally meeting Sabine’s gaze for the first time that morning. She paused, taking in her features: deep brown, phoenix-shaped eyes that darkened to maroon when she was upset; round, full cheeks with matching dimples, perfectly symmetrical; skin kissed by the Sun Goddess herself in the most breathtaking shade of cocoa Asha had ever seen. Copper-red hair, speckled with sun-bleached highlights, spilled from her crown and brushed her shoulders in a blaze of glory.

Sabine was the pride and joy of the Amazuran tribe. Athletically gifted, she took to nearly every weapon as easily as Asha herself. Still, Asha had always known her niece possessed a kind heart—one that might one day prevent her from completing the trial. Failure would mean banishment from the tribe. It was a fear Asha had carried quietly for years, and hearing the possibility spoken aloud sent her anxiety surging.

“Little dove—first, mind your tongue. Such language ill suits a princess of your standing. Second, not even I could shield you from banishment. You know this well. To fail the sacred trial is to display weakness where your sisters have not. I would sooner see you dwell beneath the Moon Goddess’s light than be culled for frailty.” Concern etched itself into every line of Asha’s face. “Then it is settled. I will go with you.”

Sabine groaned and fell backward to float upon the water. “Aunty Sha-Sha, I require no nursemaid. I am a warrior now. When I fall in glorious battle, I shall stand beside our Sun Goddess and serve as her blade among the stars.”

Asha smiled. Sha-Sha had been the first thing Sabine ever called her, and it was still what she used whenever she was trying to win an argument she was clearly losing. Repositioning herself on a warm, dry slab of stone, Asha closed her eyes before answering.

“A valiant attempt, little dove—but I am still coming. Knowing you, you would tarry too long and miss the eclipse entirely.”

“Ouch. My feelings are wounded,” Sabine laughed as the water carried her lazily across the pond. “I wager I could complete my trial in a single day. That would eclipse your record. Then perhaps I shall challenge you for the title of Huntress. Youngest ever. Fastest trial. Just like you.” She exhaled, pleased with the thought, smiling to herself.

“And when we march to war, what shall our enemies say?” Asha snorted. “‘Behold—the nearly seventeen-year-old Huntress! Let us lay down our arms and submit to this fearsome child.’”

Asha snorted as she thought of her little dove standing in front of an army of over ten thousand Amazuran’s. Waving her little fists in victory. That would be something.

She could hear Sabine mumbling something in protest but could not quite make out the words. As her voice drifted farther away, Asha felt a shadow consume her. Exhaling deeply, she opened her eyes.

As she suspected, the sun was beginning to be overtaken by the moon—a phenomenon that almost never occurs in Amazura. Yet somehow, they were already in their fourth eclipse of the year. She could feel something vast beginning to shift, though she could not yet name it.

Either way, all the Amazuran’s had their orders. At the start of the fourth eclipse, they were to gather in the Hall of Ordinance for the Queen to give her blessing to the young warriors preparing to leave the land of the Sun Goddess. Where their beloved city of Amazura lay hidden upon the highest peninsula in the world, cut off from civilization by a dense jungle of poisonous, flesh-eating vegetation. Halfway to the heavens. Aside from the sea, the only other way off the peninsula was through passageways visible only beneath the moon.

Asha sat up on her now-cool slab of rock and waited patiently for Sabine to swim back to the edge of the pond so they might make their way to the hall. She thought perhaps her niece might have cold feet about the task ahead. However, the way the girl butterfly-swam back to shore, eager to begin the trial, made her suspect that her beloved little dove might be a bit sick in the head.

It took them nearly twenty minutes to leave the gardens, and another fifteen to walk through the massive halls. From the back of the palace to the front, and then up to the second floor of the five-story estate of pure gold and ivory where the hall was located, the walk felt longer than it should have. When they reached the towering double doors of their destination, Asha noticed there were no other women about.

“Rahsha preserve me,” she muttered under her breath.

They were the last to arrive, and she knew every eye would be upon them. Steeling herself to be done with it, Asha squared her shoulders and pushed the doors open. The women stepped into the Hall of Ordinance and, as expected, every head turned and every gaze fixed upon them.

It was vast and unyielding, carved from pale stone veined with gold that caught the light and reflected it mercilessly. The ceiling soared high above, lost in shadow, supported by massive columns etched with the deeds of past queens and fallen Huntresses. Every footstep echoed too loudly, as if the hall itself were listening.

Torches burned along the walls in iron brackets, their flames steady and disciplined, casting sharp light over the assembled warriors. The scent of polished stone, oil, and old incense lingered in the air—dry, ceremonial, and faintly metallic. There was no softness here, no comfort to be found. The hall was designed to remind every woman who entered of her duty and her insignificance beneath it.

Warriors stood at attention lining the walls, unmoving as statues. The top twenty lieutenants were arranged in two precise rows of ten, forming a rigid corridor that led directly to the throne. Their armor gleamed, unmarred and severe, and their expressions held neither warmth nor curiosity—only expectation.

At the far end of the hall, elevated above all others, rose the throne of Queen Yara Summera. It dominated the space, set upon a high platform that forced every gaze upward. The throne itself was fashioned of gold and ivory, severe in its beauty, and backed by banners bearing the sigils of Amazura and the Sun Goddess Rahsha. From there, the Queen ruled not merely by command, but by presence alone.

Above it all, perched along a golden balcony, sat the Elders in their crimson chairs—silent observers cloaked in age and authority. From that height, they watched the hall as judges of history, their expressions unreadable, their approval neither promised nor withheld.

The Hall of Ordinance was not a place for argument or comfort. It was a place of reckoning. Every glance carried weight. Every breath felt measured. Here, loyalty was tested, obedience was expected, and hesitation was remembered.

Yara  sat, looking thoroughly exasperated with the pair of them.

“Now entering Princess Sabine Everflame,” announced a warrior stationed by the doors. “Now entering Princess Asha Summera, Huntress to the Queen.”

Heads held high despite their damp appearance, the two moved quietly along the path of red and yellow blossoms leading toward the throne. Normally, the royals would approach together. Today, however, Sabine veered away to join the other trial candidates, while Asha continued alone toward the front of the hall.

Yara sat. She appeared as though carved from the hand of the gods themselves—an image of what Sabine would one day become in another sixteen years.

Before the Queen’s throne, set upon a lower step, stood three smaller seats. The first belonged to Princess Asha Summera, younger sister to the Queen. At the age of fifteen, Asha had completed her trials in two days. By seventeen, the title of Huntress had been bestowed upon her by her sister.

The center seat belonged to their youngest sister, Princess Datura Summera. Her face was pear-shaped, her skin the color of caramel toffee. Large, glossy eyes held one’s attention, and when she parted her soft pink lips to speak, only the finest silk seemed to emerge. Older than Sabine by three years—though still two years younger than Asha—Datura was known among family and friends as Ra. Praised as a prodigy, she had risen to serve as both the Queen’s healer and adviser.

Where Yara stood six feet two and Asha an even six, Datura matched Sabine in height at five foot seven, give or take a centimeter or two. She was the most slender of the four, her build subtly and seductively curved.

Beside Datura stood Sabine’s throne.

As Asha reached her seat, she glanced back in time to see Sabine slip into the open space beside her best friend, Kourini. The two exchanged knowing looks. As Asha took in the sight of the twelve girls assembled below, a small ache settled in her chest. With each of the last four eclipses, the number of candidates had grown smaller. This would be the final trial class of Amazura, and Sabine was the youngest member of the tribe in all the land.

Asha turned her attention to her younger sister, who was grinning at her like a cheshire cat. As Asha sat, Datura leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Did you forget that we were all required to be here? Or do we now keep time by your command alone?”

“Fashionably late, Ra. There is a difference.” Asha stifled her grin.

She did not dare lift her gaze to receive the terrifying look she knew her sister was delivering from her throne above. Refusing to steal another moment of time, she quickly sat straight. The seconds that followed crawled by with painful slowness. She could feel her sister’s stare burning into the back of her neck and silently begged her to move on.

At last, one of the candidates cleared her throat, and the oppressive weight of that gaze eased.

The Queen finally spoke, still seated upon her throne.

“Sisters… it would appear we were delayed because our great Huntress—and heir to the throne—was nearly carried away by the Moon Goddess.”

Snickers rippled among the warriors lining the hall.

The Queen continued, her voice cool and daring, a whisper that somehow still echoed through the chamber.

“Ever late… perhaps it is time we consider seeking a more punctual Huntress.”
Sabine mouthed I’m sorry toward Asha, her face drawn with guilt.
“Sun Goddess preserve us should we ever be forced to rely upon you,” Yara continued slowly, deliberately, “to lead us… in battle.”

A fresh wave of snickers followed. Yara knew Asha felt the full weight of every word.

“Elder Sophie,” the Queen went on, “if you are still among the waking, we apologize for keeping you. If you would be so kind as to begin the ceremony.”

Yara did not rise from her throne. Instead, she turned her head upward, slightly to the right. Every Amazuran in the hall followed her gaze.

High upon the golden balcony stood five crimson chairs where the Elders observed the proceedings. Their duty was to carry the knowledge passed down through generations and guiding the reigning Queen toward a long and prosperous rule.

Elder Sophie grunted as another Elder, Elenor rubbed her shoulder to rouse her. She took her time stretching before gingerly rising to her feet. Everyone knew that, since Asha and Sabine had delayed the ceremony, Sophie would consider it her sacred duty to prolong the invocation as much as possible.

Asha watched as Sophie mouthed something to the Elder beside her before finally turning to face the hall.

Asha sat irritably—for the fourth time that year—through the telling of how the Trial by Goddess Ceremony came to be. As expected, her great-grandmother did not disappoint, stretching the tale for nearly three hours simply because all eyes were upon her.

The trial, at its core, had begun in the earliest days of the Amazuran nation. She told the tale with theatrics and drama. Nearing the end she said, “Two warnings were given:

Complete your trial, or do not return. The Wrath of Rahsha is not easily satisfied. Stay true to the hunt and steel your hearts.

Return before the end of the Eclipse Cycle. When Rahsha sleeps, the briar guarding Amazura withers. When she wakes, it may be centuries before the passage opens again. The world beyond is treacherous, and few who fail their trials return whole.

Thus was born Amazura as it stands today.”

By now, Sophie’s lips had gone dry. Another elder offered her a chalice and whispered something in her ear. Sophie took a long drink, listened, then whispered back, though her voice still carried across the hall.

They caught fragments of her muttering:

“Elenor, damn these children… we have waited long enough… far too impatient—gods above, I nearly forgot it was tonight… very well, very well, I will finish.”

She turned toward the hall with a lazy, irritated wave.

“Rahsha be with you. Finish your trials and be granted longevity, strength, a long life of tedium, vanity, and whatever other burdens the goddess sees fit to lay upon you.”

She took another deep draught from her chalice and flicked her hand, dismissing them as one might shoo flies. Such casual irreverence would have earned sharp censure from anyone else, but Elder Sophie being the Queen’s great-grandmother, was rarely troubled by consequence.

Asha allowed herself a rare grin. Upon the balcony, Yara watched her, unimpressed.

Glancing over, Asha noticed that her sister was just as irritated by the long-winded tale as she had been by Asha’s late arrival. She knew Yara would hold her tongue—for now. Yara was the only person Asha truly feared, save for Elder Sophie. The only way to openly defy the Queen was with Elder Sophie’s backing, and more often than not, Asha did not have it.

Yara rose when Sophie finally returned to her seat. She surveyed her subjects with the most severe expression they had ever seen her wear.

“Thank you, Elder Sophie, for that always entertaining account,” Yara said coolly. “We have not witnessed an eclipse in Amazura in over a decade, my sisters. More astonishing still, we have not seen four in succession in three hundred years. Nearly all of our warriors have either completed their trials or chosen banishment. I take some comfort in knowing that our final class has been granted the opportunity to become full-fledged warriors.”

She paused, allowing her gaze to sweep the hall.

“As we have already taken much of the candidates’ time during this eclipse, I shall be brief. I, Queen Yara of House Summera, hereby declare the commencement of the Trial by Goddess. Warriors, place your faith in our mighty Sun Goddess to guide you safely home. The choice before you will not be an easy one, so I will allow you a moment to prepare.”

She raised a hand before anyone could move.

“Before you depart, there is one final matter I must address. This year, there will not be four—but five—lunar eclipses.”

The hall erupted into low murmurs and whispered exchanges.

“Ladies—silence.”
The chamber stilled at once.

“These are rare signs, heralds of dire times. Since my mother, Queen Naomi, presided over the last Festival of Fertility, we have not known five eclipses in over seven hundred years. Time has slowed for us. We have lived longer than any generation before, and yet we have paid dearly for it.”

Her voice hardened.

“As you all know, our ability to bear children has waned. I fear the Sun Goddess has rendered us nearly barren. We are left with only twelve young ones in a city of thirty thousand—most of whom are drifters or refugees, unfit for active combat. In light of our dwindling numbers and the absence of future candidates, when the fifth lunar eclipse rises, we will host the Festival of Fertility in place of another Trial by Goddess.”

The hall exploded into overlapping voices.

Asha surged to her feet, fury blazing.

“How can you even speak of reviving that barbaric Moon Goddess rite?” she demanded. “We will not have it! Have you learned nothing from what befell Isis?”

A scattering of cheers broke out among the women, but Asha felt her triumph curdle almost instantly. The faint irritation that usually shadowed her sister’s face hardened into pure revulsion.

Yara closed the distance between them in swift, measured strides. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of divinity itself, echoing through the hall and raising the smallest hairs along every spine.

The room held its breath.

“How dare you speak against your Queen.”
Yara’s voice cut through the hall like drawn steel. “If you believe you could rule Amazura more wisely, then I suggest you challenge me—as I did our mother.”

With each word, Yara advanced until she stood towering over Asha. Every instinct screamed for Asha to retreat, but she did not yield. Fire burned in her sister’s eyes, and Asha knew better than to press her insolence further.

“Trial candidates,” Yara continued, turning her voice to the hall while never once breaking her stare from Asha, “you are to seek out the most fit male specimens beyond our borders and offer them the honor of partaking in our festival. They serve one purpose only—to strengthen our numbers. As such, I expect only the best.”

A hush fell over the chamber.

“Shepherds,” Yara went on, “your charge remains unchanged. Guide your candidates safely home. You are likewise permitted to invite any qualified men you deem worthy of the festival. There shall be no limit to the number of invitations you extend.”

Her expression hardened.

“Expect the weak to perish along the way. Their deaths will serve us well. We desire only the strongest among them.”
She paused.
“And do not mistake strength for virtue. The mightiest men are often the most vile—accustomed to command, and slow to respect authority. They will not be honored here unless they learn humility. Choose wisely. Never invite a man you are not prepared to lose.”

Her gaze swept the hall one final time.

“Time is short. You are dismissed.”

Yara turned her back on Asha and the assembled Amazuran’s, disappearing through the doorway behind the thrones at the rear of the hall.

Asha remained standing, a bitter taste rising in her mouth. No one stepped forward—not even those she knew shared her outrage. The moment Yara departed, the hall erupted into excited chatter. Some women whispered in anger, while others wore smiles far too knowing for comfort.

Asha glanced once more at the door her sister had vanished through and made her decision.

As she strode toward it, a nasally voice rose above the procession, snickering loudly and remarking how the Queen had finally put her in her place. Asha knew the voice belonged to Cicely, but she had far more important battles to fight.

She crossed the distance to the doorway in moments, with Datura close behind. Sabine agreed to meet Kourini in her chambers before hurrying after her aunts. Once through the doors, the noise of the hall dulled to a distant murmur.

Asha knew Yara would have returned to her study, where she met with her council. She spent most of her days there, tending to the affairs of the people, before retreating to her private quarters—which occupied the entirety of the fifth floor.

Turning left, Asha set off down the long corridor.

Datura half-jogged, half-skipped to keep pace. “Why did you have to challenge her in front of everyone?” she said, breathless. “You knew she would react that way. It sounded like a challenge, Asha. Slow down—gods, I am shocked she did not flatten you on the spot.”

She snickered to herself, then glanced back toward Sabine. “Little dove, I think your mother is growing soft in these peaceful times.”

Both of them laughed, at Asha’s expense.

“Yara is an ass. I had no intention of challenging her—but truly, it was outlawed for a reason,” Asha snapped. Despite her fury, she had the sense to tilt her head back and fix Sabine with a warning look. “And you would be wise to keep this between us, little one, rather than scurrying off to whisper it into your mother’s ear.”

Sabine stared at her wide-eyed.

Datura burst into another fit of laughter, clutching her stomach as they reached the golden doors carved with curling grapevines. The laughter echoed loudly in the corridor, bouncing off stone that still carried the tension of the hall behind them. Before anyone could speak again, Asha shoved the doors open and strode inside.

The shift was immediate.

Warmth replaced the chill stone air, heavy with the scent of smoked lavender and something sweeter beneath it—amber, perhaps, or honeyed resin. The sharp clang of voices and armor from the Hall of Ordinance vanished the moment the doors closed, swallowed by thick drapes and cushioned walls. Even the light changed, dimmer here, filtered through gauze and gold instead of blazing openly from above.

The hostility that had coiled tight in Asha’s chest loosened against her will. Her shoulders dropped. Her breath slowed. It was as though the fight had been gently pressed out of her, replaced by an almost embarrassing urge to curl into one of the deep Egyptian-cotton armchairs scattered throughout the room.

These were new—along with the silk throws, the carefully placed oils, the oversized pillows arranged in deliberate symmetry. This was not the council chamber Asha remembered, where strategy was carved into stone and decisions were made beneath cold scrutiny. This space was designed to soothe, to soften, to lull even the sharpest tongue into compliance.

Asha recognized the tactic instantly. Any Amazuran who crossed this threshold would find her objections dulled, her outrage sanded down to something timid. Under normal circumstances, the realization would have infuriated her. She would have called it manipulation. Cowardice, even.

Instead, she found herself sinking into one of the armchairs, the fabric cool beneath her palms. Her fingers traced the weave absently, and she pressed her face into a decorative pillow that all but begged for touch. The room seemed to hum quietly around her.

Nearby, Sabine sprawled across the floor atop a mound of cushions, lazily tossing a feathered pillow into the air and catching it as it drifted back down.

Asha exhaled at last, the last of the sharpness in her chest ebbing away—though a part of her resented just how easily it had gone.

“It would seem you have surpassed yourself this time, Datura. Even the growling, sharp-tongued Asha finds peace beneath the spell of your oils. We did not even need to dose her with your tea,” Yara purred, watching as her decidedly unladylike sister sank into an armchair and began stroking one of the accent pillows.

“Datura… I should have known you played a hand in this.”

“Of course she did,” Yara cut in smoothly. “She is the very reason Mother forbade the festival in the first place. I am not blind to the truth, Asha—many men are cruel, selfish creatures. I was raised under the same teachings of our Sun Goddess as you. Yet you must understand this: one cannot exist without the other. We are halves of a single whole, and without balance we will all wither.”

Her gaze sharpened.
“You must put aside your personal distaste. Sabine will fare better than the foolish women who came before her. She will choose more wisely—and with fortune, so will the others.”

“I will serve as her shepherd,” Asha snorted. “She is permitted one, after all. I do not believe there are any decent men to be found, but I will see to it that she returns before the eclipse ends. We both know how easily she loses her way.”
She cast Sabine a weary, pointed look.

“Ever the dramatist,” Yara laughed, throwing her head back. “I could not have chosen a better guardian. Very well—I accept. Are we agreed?”

Sabine, who had been rubbing her cheek against a feathered pillow while sprawled across a floor cushion, jolted upright at the sound of her name.

“We are most certainly not agreed. Why must I have a shepherd at all? Mother, I am capable of standing on my own. None of you were burdened with one!”

She sulked and hurled the pillow across the room. It skidded to a halt at Yara’s feet. The Queen stooped to retrieve it.

Raising a single brow, she regarded Sabine coolly.
“Must I truly explain the difference?”

Sabine was about to protest when Datura chimed in, “I also believed it to be a good idea for Asha to accompany you.”

“Oh no,” Sabine pouted. “Come on, Ra—not you too.”

“I do not agree for the same reasons they do, little dove,” Datura replied, tilting her head thoughtfully, “but I do think Asha needs to leave Amazura for a time.”
Asha screwed her face up at Datura.
“Do not look at me like that. All you ever speak of is battle and how pathetic men are. Perhaps you should go and find a specimen for yourself.”

The look of pure disgust that crossed Asha’s face sent the room into laughter.

“I would very much enjoy witnessing that,” Datura added dryly.

Sabine’s grin widened until it matched her aunt’s. “All right then. When do we leave?”

Yara only half listened, her attention still on the scrolls spread across her desk. The faint scratch of parchment and the soft clink of jewelry were the only sounds before she cut in, voice sharp with impatience.

“The eclipse will not linger longer than four days,” she said. “I suggest you make haste—if you intend to return to us at all.”

She rested her head against her hand, watching the three of them with open impatience. Sabine was easily distracted; Yara had always known she would need guidance. And Asha… perhaps time beyond Amazura’s borders would soften the bitterness that isolation had carved into her.

The weight of the Queen’s words settled in at once. Realizing they were wasting precious time, Asha and Sabine both sprang to their feet. In all the uproar over the Festival of Fertility, they had nearly forgotten that the trial itself was bound by the eclipse.

“I have been packed for months,” Sabine said with exaggerated disappointment. “Sadly, Aunty Asha is about to delay me even further.”

Asha scoffed. “The joke is on you. I am leaving exactly as I am. I require very little and can live off the land. I will collect my pelt and be ready before you can blink.”

“Well,” Yara said, finally setting the scrolls aside, “that settles it. Sabine, gather your belongings. Asha will meet you at the Moon Tower, and together you will pass through the portal that leads you to the site of Sabine’s repentance.”

Sabine nodded eagerly.

Asha paused, then added casually, “Since Sabine must fetch her things, it would not wound me to retrieve one or two items myself. You know—seeing as I have time to wait on her.”

Every pair of eyes turned toward her.

“Asha,” Yara said flatly, “get out.”

Laughter broke out one by one as they dispersed to prepare for the trial, the weight of destiny already shifting beneath their feet.

Chapter Two

Honey on the wind

The sun had just begun to sink beneath the horizon of the Red Moon Pack when Keith DuPont paused to take in the view. Deep swirls of purple and crimson bled across the sky, reflecting off the jagged peaks that surrounded his land. Mount Amethyst—passed down from his father, and his father before him—stood at the heart of the five great wolf packs. His territory towered above the others, both in height and influence. Keith prided himself on being the strongest Alpha among them, but today, strength felt like an obligation rather than a triumph. All he wanted was to make it through the day.

He had spent most of it locked away in his study, avoiding Eliza—his Luna—and the preparations for their little angel Zoey’s birthday. Normally, there was nothing he loved more than spending time with his daughter, especially on her sixth birthday. But her mother seemed determined to insert herself into every moment. He had tried to bury himself in paperwork, only for Eliza to appear again and again, firing off questions about schedules, guest lists, decorations, and security. Ironically, these were the very duties she usually despised.

Keith had woken early that autumn morning with a single goal: to give Zoey the birthday he had never had. His own childhood memories were marred by loss—his mother taken by hunters when he was still young—but he had vowed that his daughter would never know that kind of pain. Together, he and Eliza had planned for Zoey to have the happiest birthday a young she-wolf could imagine. Zoey was everything to him. She deserved to feel it.

He had prepared her favorite breakfast himself—cinnamon french toast, bacon, and an omelet shaped like an enormous wolf. Because she was his angel, he had added wings and a halo crafted from fresh mangoes and strawberries imported from South America, finishing it all with a dusting of powdered sugar and warm butter pecan syrup. Once everything was arranged just right, Keith balanced the tray in his hands and carried it upstairs.

The Alpha and his family occupied the entire fourth floor of the pack house. Entering Zoey’s room, he set the tray gently on her side table before pulling back the heavy curtains, allowing the morning light to flood the space.

He knew this always woke her.

Sure enough, before he could even turn around, he heard her stir beneath the covers of her enormous canopy bed. By the time he made it back to her side, her straight black hair had fallen forward, obscuring her face—and the tray—from view. She was already devouring her French toast.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Zoey managed to mumble through a mouthful of food.

Keith kissed her forehead just as Eliza burst into the room, her voice sharp and loud as she launched into complaints about how he would ruin Zoey’s figure if he kept feeding her sugary food. He never understood why a child should be made to worry about such trivial things. Zoey had attended pack training since the age of four. She was small like her mother, but she carried the raw power of a true Alpha. She was strong. She was healthy. She was perfect.

By the time Eliza began fretting about whether Zoey’s dress would still fit, Keith had already stopped listening. He waited until she disappeared into the bathroom, her rant continuing through the closed door. Taking the opportunity, he kissed Zoey on the cheek once more before quietly slipping out of the bedroom.

Keith managed to steal a moment around midday to check on Zoey. He found her perched on the wide windowsill of her room, knees pulled to her chest, staring out over the mountains. The deep frown on her face sent him to her side at once.

It did not take long to discover what troubled her.

To his surprise, Zoey admitted she had never wanted a birthday party at all. Keith already knew she shared her birthday with one of her closest friends, Anna. This year, Zoey had decided that Anna should be the one to have a celebration instead. Eliza, however, had refused to hear of it and insisted on throwing the party anyway.

Zoey cried as she explained that everyone would attend her party instead of Anna’s. Anna had not believed Zoey when she said it was not her doing, and the two had argued bitterly. Once again, before Keith could comfort his daughter, Eliza burst through the door, already calling Zoey away to begin preparations.

Two steps behind Eliza stood Patricia Bennett—Gamma of the pack and Eliza’s ever-present assistant. As the mate of Alexi Bennett, Patricia held the rank in her own right. Eliza shot Keith a look sharp enough to wound, daring him to intervene as she ushered Zoey out of the room.

When the three disappeared down the hall, Keith took a quiet moment to mind-link Patricia. He asked her to arrange a second cake for Anna and to extend an invitation to Anna and her family. He also requested that Anna’s name be added to the banner, and that something special be purchased for her so she would not feel overlooked. Keith did not care much for the pup herself, but he knew the gesture might begin to mend the damage Eliza—intentionally or not—had caused between the girls.

Afterward, Keith retreated to his office.

He hated the constant tension surrounding their daughter. Somehow, over the past two years, he and his Luna had found themselves perpetually at odds. Eliza continued her routine of abrupt check-ins until, at last, Keith lost his patience. Enough, Fentus growled within him, urging him to send her away.

Keith snapped at her to leave him be.

Eliza’s pale face flushed to a deep maroon as she slanted her sharp, catlike eyes at him. Without a word, she turned on her heel, flicking her long, straight blonde hair across his face as she stormed out.

Despite everything, Keith had to admit she had done a remarkable job transforming their courtyard—a football-field-sized clearing carved into the mountainside—into a winter wonderland. She had even hired a witch to enchant the ice sculptures so they came alive. At random intervals, a sculpted rabbit, peacock, or dove would swoop down to play with the pups racing through the space, shrieking with delight.

He would never tell Eliza how impressed he was. She would never let him forget it.

Keith did his duty, greeting the guests Eliza paraded before him. Eventually, however, the screaming children, booming music, and rowdy pack members began to gnaw at his nerves. He found himself retreating to the long table set upon the raised stage, positioned just far enough away from the chaos to breathe.

His gaze drifted, once again, to the horizon—when he should have been enjoying himself.

Zoey had just raced upstairs with Anna and Cordelia to stash their gifts away. With her gone, Keith saw little reason to remain.

“If you grip that table any tighter, it’s going to break,” Philipe Lupo murmured as he and Alexi joined him.

Keith glanced down, startled to find two sets of claw marks gouged into the edge of the table.

“Shit,” he muttered, loosening his hands and raking his large, almond-toned fingers through his jet-black curls. “I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

“How are you holding up?” Alexi asked, settling across from him. “I know crowds aren’t your thing.”

“Why do children scream so much?” Keith replied, rubbing his eyes. “Every little thing sets them off. It’s madness.”

“You can’t throw a party without noise,” Philipe said, scrunching his face.

“Oh—speaking of which, thanks for including Anna,” Alexi added, already working on a slice of cake. “I nearly couldn’t coax Cordelia out of her room. She was heartbroken about coming to Zoey’s party but not Anna’s.” He took another bite and sighed. “Patricia never lets me eat sweets anymore. Eliza really outdid herself with this cake.”

“No trouble,” Keith said, leaning back in his chair until the front legs lifted from the ground, his eyes never leaving the distant mountains. “Zoey told me what happened. I just did what I could. If you ask me, Eliza should have let Anna have her party. Crazy.”

“Alpha, Philipe must respectfully ask that you refrain from insulting his Luna,” Philipe said, puffing out his chest and feigning offense as he moved to Keith’s other side. Then his tone shifted, sharpening just a little. “That little girl—Anna. Her parents are the Fayes, yes? Those high-profile diplomats who oversee the pack liaison committee?”

“Yeah,” Keith replied. “The same ones who throw those grand festivals every year.”

Alexi nodded. “Crystal Lake, Willow Forest, and Black Prairie all attend faithfully. The Fayes are… popular.”

“Too popular for their own good,” Keith snorted. “Eliza has been in a one-sided competition with them for years. She’s always trying to outdo Whinlette, but it’s like everything that woman touches turns to gold. Eliza keeps wanting me to attend those social events to bolster her standing, but you both know that isn’t me.”

“I don’t know,” Alexi said carefully. “Whinlette and Patricia are close. She’s been upset that Eliza keeps scheduling Zoey’s parties on the same day as Anna’s—even when they agree not to celebrate on Anna’s actual birthday. Remember last year? Eliza planned that camping trip. Took all the girls away for four days. Cordelia said Zoey is far more popular than Anna among their peers.”

Keith leaned back in his chair, jaw tightening. “I’m starting to think this has nothing to do with Zoey at all. This is Eliza punishing the Fayes for outshining her. It’s just unfortunate that Anna takes the brunt of it.”

Philipe sighed. “You chose a Black Prairie she-wolf for your Luna. One of the oldest packs in the region. They carry wealth, pride, and long memory. Philipe would remind you that it is considered an honor to be bound to an original bloodline.”

Keith scoffed. “If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why Fentus chose her. Strip away the family name and everything about Eliza is… ordinary. That tight blonde bun all ranked she-wolves wear—you know the one that makes them all look perpetually offended.”
Philipe let out a booming laugh.

“And the way her nose is always tilted, like she’s smelling rot,” Keith continued. “She plays helpless, too. As if she isn’t a wolf. If she truly wished it, she could probably match me strength for strength. But they’re always playing at something. Politics. Posturing. Tea parties.” He rubbed his face and exhaled. “Moon Goddess help me—Zoey stays a warrior. She’s the only good thing to come from this union. Fentus would have preferred a son, but we both agree she’s perfect.”

Alexi shifted, his voice softening. “I’m just glad you came back for good.”

A low growl slipped from Keith’s chest.

“—Not that Fentus isn’t impressive,” Alexi added quickly. “I just… I missed you, Keith. You were asleep for almost four—”

“Yes,” Philipe cut in. “Philipe will not pretend otherwise—it stung that you woke only to bond with Zoey. Still, the pack rests easier now that you are fully returned. Philipe was little more than a pup when you started training us. Fentus is a brute. Philipe’s muscles scream for days after he is finished with us.”

Keith fell quiet, studying the two men he trusted most.

Zoey had grown up knowing Fentus more than him. An alpha among alphas—territory, dominance, war. That was what his wolf understood. But Zoey needed a father, not a commander. Fentus had seen no issue shaping her into a soldier, but in the end they had decided together that Keith would reclaim control.

It had been less than two years, yet the damage from letting his wolf run unchecked still lingered—most painfully in his bond with Eliza.

Fentus stirred again within his mind.

Unchecked?
You would liken me to a common dog, taking orders from lesser wolves? I took control because you needed me, Keith. Your father would have destroyed us.

“I do not regret that you stepped in,” Keith thought back. But I will never understand why we rejected our true mate to take Eliza instead. She is beautiful, yes—but beauty rots when paired with cruelty. What remains is something hollow.

He gave a quiet, humorless laugh to himself.

Even a wolf like me can misjudge, Fentus admitted at last. But her bloodline bound the alliance. Our reach now spans hundreds of miles. Even if she is only the first cousin to the Alpha of the Black Prairie Pack, she is still an Alpha, and that counts for something.

We had to solidify our claim by projecting stability after so much bloodshed. We became Alpha at fifteen. We needed a capable Luna to manage pack affairs. That is what she is—and all she needs to be, as far as I am concerned. Zoey was a pleasant mistake, and I am grateful for her, but Eliza only needs to run the pack house.

Instead, all she has done is spread gossip and fracture the packs.

I promised you I would fix everything, and I did. It would have been easier with the two of us.

“I know,” Keith admitted silently. You’ve done an incredible job with the pack. They respect you—slightly more than they fear you—and that’s probably why things have been so peaceful.

Keith.

“Yeah?”

Tell Philipe I’ll see him in training. He’s favoring his left side and leaving his chin open. He should have kept his opinion to himself.

Fentus’s husky laugh boomed through Keith’s mind as the wolf paced in a restless circle. He had been agitated for hours now, an edge Keith couldn’t explain.

Remembering he was still sitting with his Beta and Gamma, Keith surfaced from his thoughts and relayed the message.

Philipe groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bro, seriously? Fentus, come on. You know Philipe jokes. That was more of a compliment to Keith than an insult to you.”

“He wants you to stop talking like that,” Keith replied flatly. “You know he can hear you.”

Alexi burst out laughing while Philipe rolled his eyes.

None of it mattered.

A scent so intoxicating brushed across Keith’s senses.

He froze.

Alexi and Philipe continued bickering, but Keith barely registered them. His head turned slowly, searching for the source, nostrils flaring. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the scent vanished.

“Keith, you alright?” Alexi asked, finally noticing. “What’s got you so spooked?”

Philipe followed his gaze, mirroring his movements. The only thing remotely out of place was Eliza stepping up to the podium, microphone in hand, preparing one of her long-winded speeches.

“I don’t know,” Keith said quietly. “Something smells… incredible. But every time I catch it, it disappears.”

Fentus grew more restless, pacing harder now. He offered no explanation.

When the scent drifted across Keith’s senses again, stronger this time, he shot to his feet.

Eliza called his name from the podium.

He ignored her.

With a single-minded focus, Keith headed for the pack house, Alexi and Philipe immediately falling in behind him.

“Where are you going, Alpha?” Philipe called out.

“To his room,” Alexi answered when Keith took a sharp right. “What does it look like?”

They reached the marble staircase and took it two and three steps at a time.

“You know how the pack house was built into the mountain?” Keith called over his shoulder when they reached his floor.

“The mountain had natural caves that open along the steep side of the slope. Only the Alpha’s family knows where they are or how to access them. Eliza knows about the one in her room—but my room has one too. So does Zoey’s.”

“Zoey’s exit opens to the northeast, close to mine. Eliza’s opens north, near the path leading out of the mountains.”

Philipe gave Keith a light shove. “Wow. Alpha, Philipe’s known you his entire life and this is the first time you mention secret tunnels?”

Alexi frowned, jaw tightening. “As your Gamma, I definitely should’ve known about that. Hidden exits in the pack house aren’t exactly a small detail, Keith.”

Keith grunted.

“Secrets like that put the pack at risk,” Alexi continued. “I’ll add new scouting routes starting tomorrow—but we need to talk about what else I don’t know.”

If you ask me, you shouldn’t have told anyone but Zoey, Fentus muttered. The more people who know, the more vulnerable we become.

“Well,” Keith shot back, it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you.

Fentus huffed. Look at you. A year and a half back in control and my opinion doesn’t mean much anymore.

Eliza had to know in case of an emergency. Would you have simply left her behind?

Instead of answering, Fentus retreated into the depths of Keith’s subconscious.

Shaking his head, Keith turned his attention back to his friends. “I’m telling you now. That’s what matters.”

He swung open the marble door and crossed the room in long strides, stopping before a massive mirror mounted on the far wall.

“You know,” Alexi said with a chuckle, “I always thought that mirror was way too big for any man to need.”

“Personally, it inspired Philipe to get his own,” Philipe replied. “And really—who better to admire than Philipe?”

Alexi snorted. “I’m starting to understand why you’ve never found your mate. You’re too damn self-centered, bro.”

“Or,” Philipe countered smoothly, “the Moon Goddess knows that Philipe’s handsomeness cannot be matched by any of these basic she-wolves. A physique such as Philipe’s is meant to be worshipped.”

Keith dragged his fingers along the mirror’s gilded frame. Without a sound, it swung open on a hidden hinge.

The men filed inside.

The tunnels were alive with small, fluorescent insects clinging to the stone, casting a pale, ghostly glow that illuminated the narrow passageways. What would have taken a human a full day to traverse, wolves could manage in mere hours.

“Philipe,” Alexi said, cutting him off, “the Moon Goddess would never doom a poor she-wolf to endure your insufferable, self-appointed ‘most eligible bachelor’ speeches.”

“Alexi,” Philipe shot back, “Philipe prays for Patricia often. It must be tragic for her—being bound to a boring, pigeon-toed grandfather.”

Keith stiffened.

Koda, Alexi’s wolf, let out a low, thunderous growl at the mention of his mate.

Wolves were fiercely protective of their chosen. Too fiercely.

They were deep in the mountain now, hemmed in by narrow walls and ancient supports. One misstep, one reckless blow, could collapse the tunnel entirely. Worse still, Keith could feel the scent slipping—fading the longer they lingered.

Cool it. Both of you, Keith snapped through the link. I swear I’ll toss you off the cliff myself if I lose this trail.

Relax, Bane said calmly, speaking for Philipe. Philipe is joking. Alexi should not tease if Koda cannot tolerate it.

Neither Philipe nor Alexi would openly defy their Alpha—but both were powerful, and pride was a volatile thing among wolves. Keith knew how quickly humor could turn to violence, especially when mates were involved. The Moon Goddess granted only one true love, and once bonded, there was little a wolf would not do to defend them.

Bane speaking instead of Philipe was a reminder Keith needed.

Sometimes, Fentus’s dominance was not cruelty—it was survival.

Keith had known bloodshed young. Without Fentus’s ferocity, he doubted he would have lived to see adulthood.

Fentus swelled with pride at the thought.

Then, without warning, he took control.

You bicker endlessly, Fentus growled. Order must be restored. Perhaps I should remain in command permanently.

Both wolves whimpered.

No? Then silence yourselves and follow. I can always appoint a new Beta and Gamma. Keith may be the pleasant Alpha—but I am not.

“Yes, Alpha,” they answered quickly.

Though outwardly compliant, Fentus could feel them continuing their argument through the pack-link. He ignored it.

After nearly twenty minutes, the tunnel opened onto the far side of the mountain. As promised, the descent was treacherous—jagged stone jutted out at impossible angles, gaps no human could ever cross.

Before they could proceed, Fentus nudged Keith again, reminding him—begrudgingly—to explain the descent.

Rolling his eyes internally, Keith addressed them through the link.

“One at a time. Shift first. Follow the exact pattern of my jumps—no improvising.”

He paused, letting the warning sink in.

“The mountainside is charmed. A former Luna—part witch—laid the wards. Phantom ledges, false stones, entire paths meant to lure you to your death. The higher you climb, the more convincing the illusions.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Miss a step, and you won’t make it to the bottom.”

Keith shifted first.

Fentus’s massive Arctic form emerged, white fur rippling in the cold wind. He wasted no time, padding to the edge of the ledge before leaping. Two right. One left. His paws found true stone with ease. He slowed only to ensure his beta and gamma followed.

Naturally, Fentus reached the bottom first.

He turned just in time to see Koda—a shaggy white wolf with a broad brown patch over his left eye—land cleanly before him. Koda dipped his head in respect, then looked up sharply.

Bane was about to land on the wrong stone.

Too late.

Four stories up, Bane leapt right—three times. His paws passed straight through an illusion. He tumbled down the cliff, claws scraping uselessly before he hit hard, landing in a tangled heap of black-and-white fur.

Koda rushed to him, nudging gently.
‘Are you alive?’

Bane groaned, lifting his head.

‘Get up,’ Fentus snarled. ‘You are a wolf. That fall will not kill you—but if you slow me again, I will.’

‘Ooooh… Alpha…’ Bane wheezed. ‘Bane knows you are not counting, but this is the third—or fourth—time today you have threatened our life. Also… Bane believes there is a rock lodged in our paw.’

With Koda’s help, Bane rose, favoring his left side. Koda carefully removed the jagged stone, checking the wound before they moved on. Fentus had already resumed tracking the scent.

‘Who told you not to follow directions?’ Fentus growled, not bothering to turn. ‘I said if you don’t follow the path, you’ll fall to your death. Did you want to test that theory, pup?’

He still didn’t look back to see if Bane had caught up. Fentus hated weakness, and if his beta couldn’t pull through, he would replace him. Simple as that.

‘I like Philipe,’ Keith interjected. ‘He’s young and a little clumsy, but he’s loyal.’

‘Yeah, well clumsy over there is injured,’ Fentus shot back. ‘What if something happens? He’s our beta and he’s useless in a fight right now. I hope loyalty convinces a group of rogues to spare him if they ever find him.’

Keith laughed under his breath. He couldn’t help worrying about Bane as Alexi started laughing too, cracking jokes at Bane’s expense. Not wanting to be left behind, Bane limped after the two older wolves, but not before letting out a small whimper.

‘I heard that. Twenty laps around the mountain,’ Fentus called back without slowing.

Bane groaned—quietly, but not quiet enough.

‘Fifty,’ Fentus added, with finality in his voice. ‘And if you can’t keep up, I’ll double it.’

Koda, walking directly behind Fentus and slightly to the left, suggested they shift once they reached the forest so Bane could take pressure off his paw. Fentus didn’t answer.

Bane groaned, already knowing he would find no relief for his paw. He would not be permitted to shift at the edge of the forest. Yes, wolves healed quickly, but the gash was deep and would take at least two days to mend. Worse still, the air had turned sharp and cold. Shifting out of his wolf form would strip him of the warmth of his fur. Had they at least reached the trees, he could have pulled clothes from one of the hideaways scattered throughout the forest.

Every hair along the back of Fentus’s neck bristled as if charged when the river came into view.

The others lifted their snouts at once and understood why.

Blood soaked the air.

The scent of unfamiliar wolves drifted toward them. Fentus felt the certainty settle deep in his bones that something was about to unfold. He reached out through the pack link to the head guard on duty.

Nothing.

“What are wolves doing this deep in our territory?” Bane asked, hopping awkwardly on three legs to keep pace as Fentus and Koda quickened their stride. “They’re practically on our doorstep.”

“I do not know,” Fentus replied, voice tight, “but I have a larger problem. The scent we were following is gone. All I smell now is death.”

He did not admit the sharp spike of unease that stabbed through him, but it slowed his breath all the same. Whatever this was, he needed to reach the riverbank—now.

“I’ll double the patrols,” Koda said. “We haven’t crossed a single sentry since coming down the mountain. We’re close to the forest and there’s still not a trace of our own wolves nearby.”

“Bane gets that,” Bane said, panting slightly, “but we’re curious about this smell you keep chasing. What do you think it is? Can’t be your mate. Bane thought you rejected her years ago. Everyone calls you the cursed Alpha for it.”

Koda cleared his throat sharply, but Bane barreled on.

“The Moon Goddess wouldn’t give someone who squandered her gift a second chance—”

Fentus growled low and dangerous.

Bane froze.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve—”

“Shut up,” Fentus snapped.

The word cracked like a whip.

“I know exactly what they say about me. I don’t know what it is. I only know how it smells. Honey. We don’t get much of it this high up—but it’s a scent I will never forget. The opposite of my mate. Risa.” His voice darkened. “She smelled like smoked paprika.”

Bane let out a short laugh. “Ha—why—”

“I don’t know why I liked it,” Fentus cut in. “I just did. She was lost near the base of the mountain when I found her. I helped her back to her settlement. Her family seemed grateful. They invited me to celebrate with them—against everything Alexi taught me back when he was my sparring partner. I linked him before I stayed. I wanted to watch over her until I could convince her to come live at the pack house.”

His voice hardened.

“I told her she was my mate. She couldn’t feel it—human. I thought it didn’t matter.”

Another pause.

“It mattered.”

Keith felt the memory coil tight inside his chest.

“She told her father. That night, her cabin was surrounded. Hunters. I thought I’d wiped them out—but there was still rot hiding at the edge of the forest. That’s when I knew the Moon Goddess was laughing at me.”

Fentus’ voice turned colder.

“They had me cornered. Then Koda came through the trees with Thunder and Lightning. Enough time for me to shift. We slaughtered them. Four of us against twenty.” A beat. “Yes, Bane. She had a big family.”

Silence.

“She rejected me that night. I felt it break. I told her if she loved them so much, I’d reunite her with them.” His jaw clenched. “Koda became my Beta that night. Thunder my Gamma.”

“Who?” Bane asked innocently.

Koda and Fentus both snickered. Before Koda could retaliate, Fentus froze.

“Quiet,” he warned.

A foul-smelling wolf was hunched over a carcass on the riverbank. Without waiting, Fentus charged.

The ground was soft from the fresh snow that had fallen the night before. Though Fentus was perhaps the stealthiest Alpha alive, it did little to aid him when he tried to catch the wolf by surprise. The moment stretched, as if the world itself had slowed.

Instead of reacting like any wolf should, it dropped unnaturally close to the ground and slammed into him, striking him square in the throat. Pain exploded through his neck. He howled, tucking his head instinctively as he fought to protect his windpipe and tear out the stray’s throat in the same motion.

The oddly shaped wolf leapt backward—twice—its movements wrong, too fluid, too deliberate. Fentus shook off the impact and lunged again, snapping at its heels as it retreated.

Something about the way it moved set his hackles on edge.

As he closed the distance once more, the realization struck him—not fully formed, not yet understood—but sharp enough to cut through instinct.

This was no wolf.

Koda jumped into the fight, lunging at the intruder’s heels. The wolf shifted with unnatural speed, twisting just enough to avoid his jaws before landing a series of hazy blows from its snout into Koda’s rib cage. The impact sent him skidding across the damp ground.

Bane tried to use the distraction. Coming in from the wolf’s blind side, he launched himself forward despite the pain in his paw. He barely had time to register what went wrong.

A limb— long, incredibly agile —shot out from beneath the wolf’s fur and caught Koda by the tail. With a sharp twist, the intruder swung him straight into Bane. The two collided midair and crashed hard into the riverbank as a strange, breathy sound escaped the wolf—something too close to laughter.

Before either of them could recover, Fentus was already moving.

He clamped his jaws down at the back of the intruder’s neck, aiming to end it in one clean motion. Instead of flesh and bone, his teeth slid—fur shifting unnaturally beneath his bite. The wolf twisted violently, and something gave.

Fentus staggered back.

The pelt slipped free in his jaws.

What stood before him made him go rigid.

Long limbs unfolded where there should have been four legs. The shape tall, slender, balanced. It moved with the same predatory confidence, but its stance was upright, grounded in a way that made Fentus hesitate for the first time in years.

And then the scent hit him.

Not blood.
Not rot.

Honey.

Thick, warm, and overwhelming.

It crashed into his senses so suddenly that his breath caught in his chest. Every muscle in his body locked as the world seemed to narrow to that single, impossible smell.

Behind him, Koda and Bane scrambled to their feet, voices raised in confusion, but their words blurred into nothing. Fentus could not tear his eyes away from the figure before him—could not reconcile what his instincts were screaming on the riverbank.

The night air felt charged.

For the first time in a very long while, Fentus did not know whether to attack…
or flee.