THE WOLF'S KING BRIDE

There's blood in the snow again.

I stand at the edge of the ridge, boots sinking into the frozen earth, watching the red smear trail downhill like a brushstroke across a blank canvas. Another wolf is dead. Third one this week. The smell is wrong taoo sweet, like rot and copper.

"She was torn apart," Jarek mutters beside me, squatting near the body. "Not clean. This was a ritual."

I don't respond. He already knows I agree.

We both turn when footsteps crunch behind us. A scout, thin and wide-eyed, stops just short of the corpse.

"Well?" I snap.

He gulps. "The council's waiting, my king. And... word just came. She's arrived."

"She?" Jarek asks.

The scout nods. "The girl. From the prophecy. The Alpha's daughter."

I stiffen.

"Lyra Kaelwyn?" I ask, though I already know.

The scout hesitates. "Yes, sire. She came with the emissary. She's waiting in the Great Hall."

Jarek exhales a curse. "You're going through with this?"

"I made a vow to protect the pack. If this bond prevents war, then yes."

"You hate the idea," he says.

"I hate a lot of things. Doesn't mean I get to walk away from them."

He stands, brushing snow from his knees. "You think she's your mate?"

"I don't care what she is. She's leverage. The only thing that will stop Rowan from burning every pack in the North."

Jarek doesn't say it, but I see it in his eyes. The doubt. The quiet question: and what if she's more than that?

I ignore it and turn away from the body.

Let the healers handle the cleanup. I have a future queen to meet.

The Great Hall is too quiet.

My wolves line the perimeter, silent as shadows. They can feel her. Even without seeing her, the air is thick with it. The bond.

I pause at the top of the stairs. She's standing near the hearth, wrapped in a dark coat, her hood still up. Alone. No guards, no allies.

I hate that she doesn't look afraid.

"You're late," I say.

She turns. Slowly.

The hood falls back and I see her.

Not what I expected. No trembling noble girl. No soft-spoken diplomat. She looks me in the eye like she doesn't give a damn who I am.

"If I knew I'd be welcomed with a corpse in the snow and a death stare, I might've stayed home," she says.

"You don't have a home."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then we already have something in common."

The bond thrums between us, alive and insistent, pulling at something inside me I don't want to name.

I step closer. "You understand why you're here."

"I understand I didn't have a choice."

"None of us do. The bond doesn't care what we want."

"You don't believe in fate," she says.

"No. I believe in blood. I believe in survival. And I believe in using what I'm given."

She tilts her head. "So that's what I am. A weapon."

"No," I say. "A shield."

She lets out a laugh, sharp and hollow. "You're planning to mate me to keep the packs from going to war. Let's not dress it up like something noble."

"Are you going to fight me on this?" I ask.

Her smile vanishes. "I don't have to fight. You already hate the bond as much as I do."

We're standing too close now. I can smell her. Rain and something wild beneath it. Her wolf is pressed just under her skin. I can feel it clawing to meet mine.

"I don't need to like you," I say. "I just need you to stand beside me when I declare you mine."

She crosses her arms. "And what if I say no?"

The hall shifts. My wolves bristle. Jarek takes a step forward, but I lift a hand.

"You won't," I say.

"And why not?"

"Because you want to live. Because your brother will come for you. And because some part of you already feels the bond pulling."

"I've been hunted my whole life. I've learned how to ignore the pull of a noose."

"That's not what this is."

"No?" she says, voice low. "Feels like it."

I close the distance between us. One breath. One heartbeat.

"I didn't ask for this either, Lyra. But here we are."

Her jaw clenches. "Then let's get it over with. Say your claim. Brand your pretty little mark. Do whatever it is kings do when they chain someone to a throne."

"I don't mark anyone without their consent."

She laughs again, dark and amused. "Consent. From a man who executes wolves for blinking at him wrong?"

I lean in, voice like iron. "I've never taken what wasn't offered freely. You'll find out just how dangerous I am if you keep painting me with your father's blood."

That gets her.

For the first time, her expression cracks. The fire in her flickers.

"Don't talk about my father," she says quietly.

I nod once. "Then don't question what you don't understand."

We stare at each other.

The room is silent, save for the fire.

I break the moment, stepping back.

"The claiming ceremony is in three days," I say. "Until then, you'll remain in the east wing. You'll be given a guard."

"I don't need protection."

I glance at her. "That wasn't a suggestion. Someone is murdering my wolves. You're a target now."

"I can protect myself."

"I'm not risking my only leverage."

She exhales sharply and walks past me, straight toward the doors.

"Lyra," I say.

She stops but doesn't turn around.

"I meant what I said. I won't mark you unless you want it."

There's a pause.

Then she says, without looking back, "What makes you think I ever will?"

She disappears into the corridor.

"She's going to make your life hell," Jarek says, once the doors close behind her.

"She already is."

"Still planning to go through with the mating?"

I don't answer right away. The scent of her lingers, sweet and electric.

"She's more than I expected," I admit.

"That's not necessarily a good thing."

"I know."

I head for the war room, jaw tight.

"Where are you going?" Jarek asks.

"To prepare for the ceremony. And double the patrols."

"You think Rowan's moving already?"

"No. But something is."

I open the door to the war room and freeze.

There, carved into the long oak table in jagged claw marks, is a symbol I haven't seen in over a decade.

An ancient rune. One that should have died with the old kings.

My blood goes cold.

Jarek sees it too and mutters a curse under his breath.

"What the hell does it mean?" he asks.

I stare at the mark.

"It means the dead aren't staying buried."