Chapter 3
Three days. That's how long I stayed in that room before I lost my mind.
Kael's physician—a stern woman named Dr. Maren—visited twice daily, checking my wound with clinical efficiency and refusing to answer a single question. The servants brought food silently, averting their eyes like I was something they weren't supposed to see.
On the fourth morning, I'd had enough.
I slipped out of bed, ignoring the dull throb in my neck, and opened the door. The hallway stretched in both directions—endless dark stone, torches flickering against the walls. It looked like a medieval fortress, not a modern alpha's residence.
I chose left and walked.
The palace—because that's what it was—was a maze. Every corridor led to another, every staircase opened into grander halls. And everywhere I went, wolves stared. Guards with gold eyes tracking my every step, servants whispering behind their hands.
I found the kitchen by smell—fresh bread and coffee. When I pushed through the door, a dozen faces turned toward me. Silence fell like a hammer.
"I just want coffee," I said carefully. "Please."
A young woman with wide brown eyes cautiously poured me a cup, her hand trembling. She held it out at arm's length, like I might bite.
"Thank you," I said, wrapping my fingers around the warm ceramic. "I'm Sera."
"We know who you are," a male voice said from behind me.
I turned. A massive wolf—nearly as tall as Kael but broader, with copper skin and amber eyes—leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His expression wasn't hostile, exactly. More like assessing.
"You're the rejected one," he said flatly. "The whole kingdom's talking about it."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Great. I'm famous."
He almost smiled. "I'm Ronan. Beta to the King." He pushed off the doorframe, jerking his chin toward the hallway. "Come on. He wants to see you."
My stomach clenched. "Kael?"
"Do you know another king?"
I followed Ronan through a labyrinth of corridors until we reached a set of massive double doors. He pushed them open without knocking.
The room inside was a study—walls lined with books, a desk covered in maps and documents. And behind that desk sat Kael, his silver eyes lifting to meet mine the moment I entered.
"Sit," he said.
I sat.
He studied me for a long moment, his expression impossible to read. Then he spoke, his voice measured and deliberate.
"I've had my people investigate. Your former pack—the Hale territory—has declared you dead. Your Alpha announced your death publicly three days ago."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "Dead?" I whispered.
"Dominic Hale told his pack you fled into the Deadlands and perished. He's already installed your sister as his Luna." Kael's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Convenient, isn't it?"
I couldn't speak. Declared dead. Erased. Like I never existed.
Kael leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. "Which brings me to my next question. You claim you have no wolf. Yet you survived a severed mate bond—something that kills most wolves within hours. And when my physician examined you, she found traces of dormant power in your blood that she couldn't identify."
My heart hammered. "I don't know what that means."
"Neither do I." His silver eyes were sharp as blades. "But I intend to find out."
He stood, rounding the desk until he was standing directly in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at him.
"You'll stay here," he said. It wasn't a request.
"For how long?"
His gaze dropped to the wound on my neck, then back to my eyes. Something shifted in his expression—something dark and possessive that made my breath catch.
"Until I understand what you are."
The door opened behind us, and Ronan stepped in, his face grim. "Kael. We've intercepted a message from the Hale pack. Dominic is requesting a meeting with you—at the border. Tomorrow."
Kael's expression went cold. Lethal. "Is he now."
My blood ran cold. Dominic. Coming here. Coming close to the man who'd taken me in.
Kael looked at me, and his next words sent ice through my veins.
"Tell me, Sera—does your former mate know you're alive?"
Kael's physician—a stern woman named Dr. Maren—visited twice daily, checking my wound with clinical efficiency and refusing to answer a single question. The servants brought food silently, averting their eyes like I was something they weren't supposed to see.
On the fourth morning, I'd had enough.
I slipped out of bed, ignoring the dull throb in my neck, and opened the door. The hallway stretched in both directions—endless dark stone, torches flickering against the walls. It looked like a medieval fortress, not a modern alpha's residence.
I chose left and walked.
The palace—because that's what it was—was a maze. Every corridor led to another, every staircase opened into grander halls. And everywhere I went, wolves stared. Guards with gold eyes tracking my every step, servants whispering behind their hands.
I found the kitchen by smell—fresh bread and coffee. When I pushed through the door, a dozen faces turned toward me. Silence fell like a hammer.
"I just want coffee," I said carefully. "Please."
A young woman with wide brown eyes cautiously poured me a cup, her hand trembling. She held it out at arm's length, like I might bite.
"Thank you," I said, wrapping my fingers around the warm ceramic. "I'm Sera."
"We know who you are," a male voice said from behind me.
I turned. A massive wolf—nearly as tall as Kael but broader, with copper skin and amber eyes—leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His expression wasn't hostile, exactly. More like assessing.
"You're the rejected one," he said flatly. "The whole kingdom's talking about it."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Great. I'm famous."
He almost smiled. "I'm Ronan. Beta to the King." He pushed off the doorframe, jerking his chin toward the hallway. "Come on. He wants to see you."
My stomach clenched. "Kael?"
"Do you know another king?"
I followed Ronan through a labyrinth of corridors until we reached a set of massive double doors. He pushed them open without knocking.
The room inside was a study—walls lined with books, a desk covered in maps and documents. And behind that desk sat Kael, his silver eyes lifting to meet mine the moment I entered.
"Sit," he said.
I sat.
He studied me for a long moment, his expression impossible to read. Then he spoke, his voice measured and deliberate.
"I've had my people investigate. Your former pack—the Hale territory—has declared you dead. Your Alpha announced your death publicly three days ago."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "Dead?" I whispered.
"Dominic Hale told his pack you fled into the Deadlands and perished. He's already installed your sister as his Luna." Kael's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Convenient, isn't it?"
I couldn't speak. Declared dead. Erased. Like I never existed.
Kael leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. "Which brings me to my next question. You claim you have no wolf. Yet you survived a severed mate bond—something that kills most wolves within hours. And when my physician examined you, she found traces of dormant power in your blood that she couldn't identify."
My heart hammered. "I don't know what that means."
"Neither do I." His silver eyes were sharp as blades. "But I intend to find out."
He stood, rounding the desk until he was standing directly in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at him.
"You'll stay here," he said. It wasn't a request.
"For how long?"
His gaze dropped to the wound on my neck, then back to my eyes. Something shifted in his expression—something dark and possessive that made my breath catch.
"Until I understand what you are."
The door opened behind us, and Ronan stepped in, his face grim. "Kael. We've intercepted a message from the Hale pack. Dominic is requesting a meeting with you—at the border. Tomorrow."
Kael's expression went cold. Lethal. "Is he now."
My blood ran cold. Dominic. Coming here. Coming close to the man who'd taken me in.
Kael looked at me, and his next words sent ice through my veins.
"Tell me, Sera—does your former mate know you're alive?"