EILIS

The bond burned.

Not like fire though, this was a constant, pulsing pressure beneath my skin, it was a low ache that tightened every time I tried to ignore it.

I braced both hands against the cold stone wall of the training chamber and bowed my head. Sweat slid down my spine, my scars pulling as my muscles locked, my teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

Control.

That word had followed me my entire life. From tutors, from my father, from commanders who praised my discipline especially after I turned feral.

My wolf snarled inside me restless and offended.

Mine, it whispered, not with words but instinct. A possessive pull that surged whenever the bond stirred, whenever Raven was frightened, stressed, or too far away.

I hated it, hated the way the bond demanded attention, and demanded a reaction. The way it made me feel exposed, unguarded, one misstep away from losing myself, and I hated the fact that Raven felt none of it. Why should I have to suffer alone?

I grimaced when I remembered the reason I'd blocked Raven from feeling it in the first place.

I shoved off the wall and crossed the chamber in long strides, grabbing a practice blade from the rack. The sound of steel sang as I swung, the motion sharp, precise and brutal. I imagined cutting through the pressure, severing the pull.

It didn't help.

The wolf pushed harder, a flash of teeth and heat and hunger curling behind my eyes. I staggered, breath hitching as my vision flared gold for half a heartbeat.

"No," I growled aloud, voice rough. "Not now."

I forced myself to stand still, my shoulders back and my spine straight, a prince did not falter.

The doors opened, my best friend- Camden didn't bother knocking. He never did when something was wrong.

"Eilís," he said, already crossing the room. "We've got a problem."

I didn't turn to look at him. "If this is about the patrol routes, tell the council to wait."

"It's not," Camden replied, his tone stripped of its usual humor. "It's worse."

That got my attention.

I sheathed the blade and faced him. Camden's expression was tight, jaw set, eyes sharp in a way that meant he'd already run through every scenario and hated all of them.

"Talk."

He voice lowered. "North district, outer boroughs first, then spreading inward. I think it's Arden's people, they're calling it a 'correction.'

I felt the word like a strike.

"How many?" I asked.

"Enough," he answered. "They're not armed openly yet, but they're organizing, blocking roads. And-" He hesitated.

"They're using the mating as leverage."

My chest tightened. "Explain."

"They're saying the kingdom's weakened, that you're compromised, that a bond between a human and a wolf is unstable." Camden met my eyes. "That a ruler who can't control himself can't protect Caravia."

The wolf roared at that, furious, feral, shoving against my restraint.

My hands curled into fists, my anger almost getting a hold of me. "Where?" I asked, pushing it back down. It hadn't even be up to a week.

"Right now? Just noise," Camden replied. "But if it spreads to the inner court-"

"It won't," I cut in.

Camden studied me. "Are you sure about that?"

I straightened slowly, forcing the weight of the crown back onto my shoulders. "Issue a statement, keep it calm and measured, no threats."

Camden blinked. "That's it?"

"For now," I answered. "If they want proof of weakness, I won't give it to them."

"And the bond?"

My jaw tightened. "I will handle it."

Camden didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "I'll keep you updated."

When I was alone again, the chamber felt smaller. Hotter. The walls pressed in, echoing with the quiet thrum under my skin.

My wolf stirred, restless and angry.

They're coming, it warned. They'll try to take what's ours.

As I closed my eyes, "No," I said softly, to the beast, to the bond, to the kingdom trembling just beyond the walls. "They won't."

But for the first time, I wasn't entirely sure who I was convincing.

****

I sighed as the door opened again, I inhaled deep as Denis poked his head in, flashing me a smile. "Can I come in?"

I shrugged. Taking that as an answer he came in and clicked the door shut.

"I just thought you might want to know the king called for Raven."

I stiffened. "He did what?"

"They're conversing as we speak." Denis supplied.

I fisted my knuckles, what if he noticed something? I couldn't exactly go there and demand to see the king. My father would get suspicious. What could they be talking about?

I should have attended the ball.

"I didn't think you'd risk leaving her all alone there." Denis said slowly, "I had thought you'd keep her close considering the bite mark you left on her." His lips twitched.

I threw him a towel. "I didn't want to overshadow his moment, you know as well as I do that people would be hesitant to approach if I was there. As much as I need hi..her to keep to herself I also need hi..her to speak with people to avoid rumours." gods, saying the right pronouns was going to be a bitch.

"How was the claiming?" Denis asked, changing the subject entirely.

"Is this question coming from my friend or pack?"

"Both?" Denis replied, sounding unsure.

"She's alive isn't she? And she has the bite."

"That you're happy about it." He raised his eyebrows.

"Im happy about it." When he just stared at me, I groaned and rubbed my face. "What more do you want me to say? You want me to tell you I regret it because it just added more to the list of things I need to be careful about."

"She is not a thing." Denis said softly.

"Exactly! She's someone who just added to my problems, as if handling the pack wasn't enough now I have a mate to think about."

Denis hesitated a moment before he spoke. "Did....did your wolf take control?"

"No, thank the gods for that." I replied. Even though Denis was among the people who knew about my split personality, I couldn't exactly tell him the wolf had been the one to claim Raven. He'd just go tattle to Camden who'd tattle to Aria-my sister.

"Are you going to tell her?" He said, still hesitant.

"No, I'm not. Not if the situation calls for it."

"Doesn't she have a right to know?"

"No, she doesn't, I didn't choose to mate with hi..her she didn't choose to mate with me, we're both a victim of circumstances."

When he tried to speak again, I cut him off. "This conversation is over Denis please see your self out."

His mouth closed immediately. "As you wish your highness."

I sighed as the door clicked shut behind him.

What had I gotten myself into?

I was navigating the edge of the dance floor, trying to reach a pillar where I could disappear for a moment, when it happened.

A servant, darting through the crowd with a heavy silver tray of crystal flutes, misjudged the turn.

We collided.

It wasn't a hard hit, but my body was a map of raw nerves and bruised muscle.

The impact jolted my spine, and a sharp, white-hot flash of pain shot through my lower back, it was a direct reminder of the Wolf's lack of restraint.

I gasped, my knees buckling for a split second.

"Your Grace! Forgive me!" the boy stammered, his face turning the color of ash as he struggled to steady the rattling tray.

I grabbed his forearm to steady myself, my fingers digging into his sleeve. For a heartbeat, the mask slipped. My jaw tightened, my breath hitching in a way that wasn't feminine or soft. It was the reaction of a man bracing for a fight.

I saw the boy's eyes widen. He was close enough to see the tension in my neck, close enough to hear the rough edge of my gasp.

"I-I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," I hissed, then immediately caught myself. I forced my hand to relax, smoothing the silk of my gown with trembling fingers. I blinked, letting my eyes go wide and watery. "I'm just... a bit lightheaded. The heat, you understand."

The servant nodded frantically, but he looked unsettled. Did he perhaps notice something?

Before the servant could apologize for the third time, a hand clamped on my shoulder.

I jumped in fright and made a very unladylike sound.

"There you are, I've been looking all over for you." Denis smiled at me. I let out a deep sigh, trying to calm my nerves.

"How are you enjoying the party?"

I shrugged. "It's been great so far."

His smile tightened. "Nothing out of the ordinary?"

I returned his smile. "Not that I could think of."

He chuckled, the tense smile vanishing. "Hope you're taking my advice well?"

"As well as I can." I tried chuckling back but it just sounded awkward.

"Wait!"

The sharp, shrill cry cut through the music, causing the dancers nearby to falter. I turned toward the sound, my heart sinking as I saw a younger woman-one of Lady Solvra's companions-marching toward us. Her face was flushed with a mixture of anger and excitement, the kind wolves showed when they smelled blood in the water.

"My bracelet!" she gasped, stopping inches from me. She held up her bare wrist, her chest heaving. "It's gone! My mother's heirloom, the sapphire cuff-it was here only a moment ago!"

Denis sighed, a sound of pure boredom. "Lady Mila, surely you just dropped it. The floor is covered in enough gems to buy a small village. Check your hem."

"I did!" Mila snapped, her eyes snapping to me with a terrifying focus. "I felt it snag when I passed her. When the servant bumped into the Prince's mate."

The circle of nobles widened, a predatory silence falling over the immediate area. I felt the weight of a hundred stares.

"Are you suggesting something, Mila?" Denis asked, his voice losing its playful edge.

"I'm saying I want to see her pockets," Mila said, her voice rising so the surrounding tables could hear. "Or perhaps she's tucked it into that silk bodice. It's no secret her family's estate is... struggling. Perhaps a human bride needs a bit of Caravain gold to feel at home?"

A ripple of hushed whispers broke out. Thief. Human. Commoner. The words drifted through the air like smoke.

I felt the heat rise to my face, not out of shame, but out of a cold, white-hot fury. I looked at Mila-at the smug curve of her lip and the way her friends were already giggling behind their fans. This wasn't about a bracelet. This was an execution.

If I let her search me, the corset would be a problem. If they laid hands on me, they'd feel the binds. They'd feel the lack of softness. They'd find out I wasn't just a thief, but a lie.

"Lady Mila," I said, my voice steady, though my heart was a frantic drum in my chest. I used the lower register of my voice, the one Solvra had mocked, making it sound slow and dangerous. "You've had quite a lot of wine tonight. Perhaps it simply slipped off while you were... gesturing so wildly?"

"How dare you!" she hissed. "Search her! If she has nothing to hide, she won't mind."

She reached out, her fingers clawing toward my shoulder, intent on dragging me toward the center of the hall.

My instinct screamed to catch her wrist and twist, to put her on the floor the way my brothers had done to me. I had to physically lock my muscles to keep from reacting.

"Is there a problem here?"

The predatory circle that had been closing on me scrambled at the presence of the prince.

Mila's hand froze, inches away from my shoulder.

Her bold, wine fueled courage vanished, replaced by a visible tremor as Eilis golden gaze locked on her.

"My prince." She gasped as Eilis stopped at my side.

"I asked a question." He said, his voice dropping an octave. "Why is your hand near my mate lady Mila?"

Mila stammered, her face turning a deep shade of grey. "My... my bracelet, Your Highness. It went missing, and I thought-I felt a snag when she passed-"

"You thought?" Eilís stepped into her space, forcing her to look up at him. "You thought to lay your hands on her in the middle of my father's hall? To accuse her of theft like a common cutpurse?"

"It is a sapphire, Your Highness," a voice called out from the crowd, emboldened by the safety of numbers.

My fist tightened, what reason would I have stolen a sapphire when I had dozens embroidered into my wedding gown?

"A family heirloom," another whispered, the sound carrying easily in the hushed hall. "And the humans are desperate. Who could blame her for wanting something to take back to that crumbling estate?"

The murmurs rippled through the circle like a slow-moving tide. She's a commoner. She doesn't belong here. A wolf would never stoop so low, but a human?

The air in the room seemed to sharpen as the collective suspicion of the court solidified. Mila took a shaky breath, her confidence returning as she felt the backing of the other nobles.

"I am not the only one who thinks so, My Prince," she said, her voice regaining its edge. "The girl has no jewelry of her own. Is it so hard to believe her fingers wandered?"

Eilis looked ready to snap her in half, his posture a jagged line of restrained violence. I felt like a bird pinned to a board, having no idea how to defend myself.

Every word that formed in my throat felt like a trap. If I spoke to softly, I was weak, but if I spoke too firmly, my voice would betray the secret I carried beneath my corset.

What could I say in this situation? I had no proof. It was my word against a noble wolf.

Denis stepped into the circle with a slow predatory gaze,that made a look of uncertainty flash past Mila's face. "A tragic loss, Lady Mila," he said, his voice smooth as honey. "But I noticed something curious when you were screaming for a search."

Mila flinched, her hand dropping slightly from where she had been pointing them at me. "What could you possibly have noticed besides this human's thievery? we all saw the collision, she was right there."

"The sapphire cuff," Denis mused, ignoring her tone. He stepped closer, invading her personal space until Mila had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. He reached out a hand, not touching her, but gesturing toward her bare wrist. "It's a spring-lock mechanism, isn't it? A family specialty. It doesn't 'snag' and fall off. It has to be depressed from both sides to release."

A murmur went through the crowd. The wolves knew their craftsmanship.

"The servant bumped her!" Mila shrieked. She looked around at her friends, searching for support, but they were already stepping back, sensing the shift in the air. "The impact must have-"

"The impactwould have shattered the crystal flutes before it broke that lock,"

Denis interrupted, his tone turning ice-cold. He turned to the servant, who was still trembling. "Boy. Show me your hands."

The servant held out his hands, palms up. They were empty, stained only by the condensation of the spilled wine.

"Now," Denis said, turning back to Mila. "Lady Mila, would you be so kind as to unroll your left sleeve? The one tucked so tightly into your bodice? It seems a strange way to wear such fine velvet, don't you think?"

Mila's face went from grey to a ghostly, translucent white. She tried to step back, but the crowd of nobles-sensing a change in the wind-blocked her path.

"I-I don't see why-"

"Because," Denis said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I saw you palm it the second the collision happened. You didn't lose a bracelet, you hid one. You didn't want justice, you just wanted an excuse to strip the Prince's mate in front of a gallery."

Eilís let out a sound that wasn't human. It was a low, vibrating growl that seemed to shake the very floorboards.

"Show us," Eilís commanded. Under the weight of Eilís's command, Mila's muscles betrayed her. Her hand shook as she slowly reached into the heavy velvet fold of her own sleeve. Her fingers emerged clutching the sapphire cuff.

The silence that followed was deafening. It wasn't just a mistake anymore. It was a deliberate, malicious frame-job.

Mila didn't cry, she didn't even shed a tear. Instead, the fear in her eyes was replaced by a sharp, jagged defiance. She looked at the bracelet, then up at Eilís, before her gaze landed on me with a hatred so pure it felt like a physical blow.

"Yes," she spat, the word dripping with venom. "I hid it. I wanted to see her stripped. I wanted every wolf in this hall to see the fragile, pathetic thing you've tied our kingdom to."

"Mila," Denis warned, his voice low, but she was beyond listening.

She stood tall, looking around at the gathered nobles. "Are we really going to pretend? Are we going to bow to a human? We are wolves of Caravia! Our blood is iron and moonlight, yet we are expected to share our air, our secrets, and our throne with a creature that breaks under a servant's tray? A creature that can't even speak with a voice that doesn't sound like a dying bird?"

She pointed a trembling finger at me, and for a moment, I thought she would lung at me. "I did it because I hate that she is here. I hate that our Prince is compromised by a weak heart and a weaker mate. If a simple search would have exposed how unfit she is to stand among us, then I would do it again."

The murmurs that followed weren't of embarrassment this time, they were of agreement. I could feel the shift in the room. Mila had said the thing they were all thinking.

I was terrified of what they would do. Yes, I'd barely escaped being searched, but what's to say it won't happen again? What was to say a dozen Milas wouldn't corner me in a hallway where Denis couldn't see?

Eilís's reaction was terrifying. He simply stepped toward her, his movement so fast it was a blur. He caught her by the throat, lifting her until her toes barely brushed the floor.

"You think her weakness compromises the throne?" Eilís whispered, his voice vibrating with a lethal, subsonic frequency. "It is your disloyalty that compromises it."

His grip tightened, and I saw Mila's hands clawing at his iron wrist.

"You hate that a human is in your midst?" Eilís leaned in, his eyes glowing a solid, predatory gold. "Then you will be glad to leave it. You are stripped of your name. You are stripped of your lands. You will be escorted to the Northern border-not to a cloister, but to the outposts. If you find humans so beneath you, perhaps you can spend your life defending us against them."

He dropped her like a sack of unwanted grain.

"Get her out of my sight," Eilís commanded.

Two guards moved in, dragging a gasping, broken Mila toward the doors. The court watched in stunned silence. They had seen the price of speaking their hatred aloud.

Eilís turned to me then. His hand was still trembling with the effort of not snapping her neck. He reached out, his thumb brushing against the bruise on my throat, and for a second, I saw the conflict in his eyes. He hated the court as much as they hated me.

"We're leaving," he said, his voice raw.