The King Makers 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?"