Kieran
I stare out the window of my assigned chamber, feeling the walls closing in around me more and more with each passing moment. The palace’s gilded constraints press against my lungs like a physical weight. Ironic, how these enclosed spaces represent power in the Wolf Kingdom when true strength comes from the boundless mountains that have sheltered my pack for generations.
But here I stand. Trapped in this ornate cage of political necessity.
The scent of pine needles and fresh mountain air still clings to my clothes, a reminder of home that both comforts and haunts me. I roll my shoulders, trying to shed the discomfort of being so far from my territory.
“Have you actually thought this through?” Artisem’s voice breaks the silence as he enters without knocking, comfortable with the familiarity earned through decades at my side.
I don’t turn to face him. “The prophecy was clear. Blood will be shed. This kingdom will fall.”
“And what does that have to do with us?” He comes to stand beside me, his reflection appearing in the window. Despite the silver that now shows in my hair, Artisem still looks at me with the same admiration he had as a child. “Our sanctuary has remained untouched for hundreds of years. Let the lowlanders sort out their own problems.”
“If this kingdom falls, we’re next,” I say, my voice hardening. “The threat may seem distant now, but once this realm crumbles, the chaos will spread to our mountains.”
Artisem sighs, a sound laden with the weight of having served as my right hand for too long. “Are you certain you’re here to stop the prophecy from being fulfilled? Or is it because of that female shifter your eyes keep following?”
My spine stiffens. “She is not part of anything.”
“I’ve been by your side since I was a child,” Artisem says, his voice softening. “In all these years, I have never seen you look at a woman the way you look at her. Not once. But you can hardly take your eyes off this one.” He clasps my shoulder. “If you want her, woo her. You’re not too old for that.”
I glance down at my wrist, at the intricate tattoo that marks my skin—symbols of ancient magic intertwined with the phases of the moon. The mark of my burden. My curse.
“Our destinies, if entwined, will lead to tragedy,” I say quietly. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Artisem’s frustrated exhale fills the room. “You believe you can change the outcome of a prophecy, but you can’t change the destiny you’ve foreseen? That makes no sense, Kieran.”
“You cannot outrun your destiny,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
Artisem stares at me for a long moment, then shakes his head. “I’ll attend the Council meeting in your stead. Try not to brood yourself to death while I’m gone.” He leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.
Alone once more, I sink into a chair at the table, staring blankly at the polished surface. The emptiness in my chest expands, a familiar void I’ve carried for lifetimes. The pain of loss echoes through me, but I know this ache is nothing compared to what my past selves have endured.
I close my eyes and see her face. Daciana, with her direct gaze and fearless words. The way her eyes lingered on mine when our delegation arrived, that flash of interest she couldn’t quite disguise. The subtle shift in her scent when our gazes locked, betraying an attraction she likely wishes she could hide from a wolf’s keen senses.
“Never again,” I whisper to the empty room. “I will not ruin your happiness again.”
My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, disagreeing with my decision. He wants to claim, to mark, to possess. But I’ve lived too many lives, seen too many endings to give in to his primal demands.
The prophecy speaks of the Wolf Kingdom’s downfall, but my personal torment has always been her.
I clench my fist, feeling the magic pulsing beneath my skin. Ancient power thrums in my veins, a reminder of what makes my pack both feared and coveted. Power that has been both blessing and curse through the centuries.
My wolf growls at my hesitation, but I’ve been down this path before. I know where it leads.
I stand abruptly, needing to move, to breathe. The walls of this palace are suffocating me with their opulence and political games. Yet I must remain. Not just for the prophecy, but because leaving now would mean abandoning her to whatever darkness the future holds.
Even if I can never have her, I can at least ensure she survives this time.
I move to the window again, looking toward the far-off mountains. My territory calls to me, but my duty and my heart chain me here.
“I will save you,” I whisper. “Even if it means you’ll never be mine.”
The pain in my chest is familiar, almost comforting in its consistency.
I’ve seen how this story ends. But this time, I’ll write a different ending—even if it breaks me in the process.
I NOTICE IT HAPPENING GRADUALLY. The shadows beneath her eyes deepening day by day. The slight lag in her reflexes when she passes me in the corridors. The way she stifles yawns during her guard shifts.
Daciana is exhausted.
I shouldn’t be watching her this closely. I shouldn’t know the exact shade of purple beneath her eyes or count how many times she catches herself mid-yawn. But I do.
My wolf growls its dissatisfaction when I spot her staggering slightly after her patrol shift ends. I clench my jaw, fighting the primal urge to intervene, to care for her, to protect her.
“She’s not ours to look after,” I mutter to myself, but my wolf disagrees vehemently.
Today, with diplomatic meetings concluded and Artisem handling correspondence, I find myself alone, wandering the palace grounds, restless energy driving me outside despite the afternoon heat. The pompous nobles questioning the place of shifters with magic in their society have worn my patience thin. As if our kind haven’t existed since before their stone walls were erected.
My legs carry me toward the forest’s edge. I am drawn by the scent of pine and earth. It calms me, reminds me of home. I’m following a narrow trail, breathing deeply, when another scent catches my attention.
Lavender and steel.
Daciana.
I hesitate, my instinct to turn away warring with my desire to follow. Before I can decide, my feet are already moving toward her, drawn like a compass needle to north.
The trail widens slightly, leading to a small clearing where an ancient oak spreads its branches. And there she sits, back against the rough trunk, head tilted to one side, completely and utterly asleep.
My breath catches at the sight. Her fierce warrior’s face is softened in slumber, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before. One hand rests loosely on her thigh, the other curled in her lap. Her chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths.
“Little wolf,” I whisper, the endearment slipping out unbidden. “What are you doing out here all alone?”
She is completely unprotected. Any creature could approach. Any enemy could strike.
The thought sends a chill through me.
I take a step forward, then freeze as movement catches my eye. From behind the oak tree, two wild wolves emerge, their hackles raised as they have already sensed my presence. They position themselves on either side of Daciana’s sleeping form, teeth bared in silent warning.
A smile tugs at my lips. “So, you’re protecting your mistress, are you?” I ask softly.
The wolves watch me warily, bodies tense and ready to attack. The larger one, a gray female with intelligent eyes, growls low in her throat.
“I mean her no harm,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “She’s important to me, too.”
I lower myself slowly to the ground, sitting cross-legged several feet away. The wolves remain alert but seem less threatened by me in my seated position.
“She needs this rest,” I continue conversationally. “She’s been pushing herself too hard.”
The female wolf tilts her head as if considering my words. I smile again.
“I’ll watch over her with you, if you’ll allow it.”
Making a decision, I close my eyes, focusing on the magic that lives inside me. I let my form shift, bones reshaping, skin giving way to thick fur. In moments, my massive black wolf sits where my human form was, nearly twice the size of the wild wolves.
They startle initially, but curiosity replaces fear. I lower my head, a gesture of peace. After a tense moment, the female approaches, sniffing cautiously at my muzzle. I remain perfectly still, allowing her to recognize that I am no threat.
When she backs away, seemingly satisfied, I move forward and settle on the ground near Daciana, but not close enough to frighten her if she wakes. I lay my head on my paws and close my eyes, allowing myself the luxury of being near her.
My wolf feels content for the first time in days. Her scent surrounds me, and I breathe it in deeply.
I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here, drifting in and out of consciousness, when my ears suddenly twitch. There’s a subtle shift in the air—a wrongness that pulls me from my dozing.
My body transforms back to human form in one fluid motion. I’m on my feet, hand raised, before Daciana has even stirred.
Her eyes snap open, instantly alert despite being pulled from deep sleep. She looks startled to see me standing there, confusion flickering across her features.
“Kier—”
Before she can finish saying my name, I catch sight of movement in the trees. Instantly, my hand shoots up, grabbing an arrow whistling through the air—an arrow aimed directly at Daciana’s heart.
Her eyes widen, shock written plainly across her face as she stares at the arrow clutched in my hand, just inches from where it would have struck her.
“What the—”
Her expression transforms instantly. I watch as her gaze hardens, turning flat and deadly—a warrior replacing the vulnerable woman who was sleeping mere moments ago.
She jumps to her feet, her body coiled and ready. “We need to find cover. Now.”
“Agreed.” I scan the trees, every sense heightened. “There’s a rock formation to the east—”
Another arrow comes flying from a different direction, once again aimed at her, not me. I move to block it, but I’m a fraction too slow. The arrow pierces my shoulder, just above my heart.
Pain lances through me as I stumble back with a groan. “Run,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “Shift and run. Don’t look back.”
Her eyes widen, fear flashing through them—fear for me, not herself. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by stubborn determination.
“I don’t run from danger,” she says fiercely. “And I certainly don’t leave people behind.”
The wild wolves circle us, growling at the unseen attackers. Daciana looks at them, then back at me, her decision made.
“I’m not leaving you,” she says, voice firm.
The arrow in my shoulder burns like fire. I can feel blood soaking through my shirt, but the pain is secondary to the need to protect her. With no other choice, I summon my power, feeling it gather in my core.
“Then stay close, little wolf,” I warn, bracing myself for what comes next.
I thrust my uninjured arm outward, sending a massive wave of magic in all directions. The air ripples with power, trees bending as if caught in a mighty wind. I hear startled cries from the forest—two, maybe three voices.
“Move. Now.” My voice is strained. Using magic on this scale drains me rapidly, especially when I’m injured. “They’re immobilized, but not for long.”
Daciana doesn’t hesitate. She transforms into a tawny brown wolf, smaller than me but quick and agile. She nudges my leg, whining urgently.
“I can’t shift with this wound,” I say, swaying slightly. “The arrow—”
She shifts back to human form in an instant. “Then I’ll help you walk,” she says, purpose set in her jaw. “Put your arm around my shoulder.”
Without waiting for a response, she moves to my uninjured side and wraps an arm around my waist. Her strength surprises me; she’s solidly built, all muscle from years of training. I lean on her, letting her take some of my weight.
“The palace is too far,” I mutter, feeling blood seeping down my chest. “We need somewhere closer.”
“I know a place,” she says, already moving us forward. “But we need to hurry.”
The wild wolves flank us as we move, protecting our retreat. One of them—the female who approached me earlier—suddenly lunges into the underbrush. I hear a startled cry, followed by snarling and the sounds of a struggle.
“One down,” Daciana mutters. “Good girl.”
She leads us through the forest with unerring confidence, supporting my increasingly heavy weight with remarkable ease. My magic has faded, energy sapped by both the spell and my injury. The world begins to spin around me.
“Stay with me,” she urges, tightening her grip. “Just a little farther.”
The trees blur together as my consciousness starts to fade. I focus on Daciana—her scent, her voice, the solid strength of her body against mine. She’s not just supporting me physically; her determination is keeping me upright through sheer force of will.
“Here,” she finally says as we reach what appears to be a small cave hidden behind a curtain of vines. “We’ll be safe here.”
She helps me inside, easing me down against the stone wall. The cave is shallow but well concealed. The wild wolves take up positions at the entrance, alert for any sign of pursuit.
“I need to check your wound,” she says, her voice all business now. “The arrow is still in there.”
I nod, unable to summon words. She works quickly, tearing a strip from her shirt to staunch the bleeding.
“It needs to come out,” she says, meeting my eyes directly. “It’s gonna hurt.”
“Do it,” I manage to say.
She wraps her hand around the shaft. “On three. One—”
She pulls it out in one swift motion before even saying “two.” The pain is blinding, and a roar escapes my throat. Black spots dance across my vision.
“Sorry,” she says, not sounding particularly apologetic. “It’s better when you don’t tense up expecting it.”
The last thing I remember before darkness claims me is her face, brow furrowed with concern as she presses the makeshift bandage against my wound. And the wild wolves, standing guard over us both.
I JOLT AWAKE, my lungs struggling for air. The ceiling above me is unfamiliar—not the ornate moldings of my assigned chambers, but simpler stonework with flickering shadows cast by candlelight.
Pain radiates from my shoulder, but it’s different now. Deeper. Wrong. Something cold and foreign spreads through my veins, a sensation I recognize vaguely. I try to sit up, but my limbs are like lead.
My heart. There’s something wrong with my heart. Each beat feels labored, as if it’s pushing through mud rather than blood.
I close my eyes, focusing inward, calling upon my magic to cleanse whatever invader has taken up residence in my body. The power stirs sluggishly, but when I try to direct it toward my heart, it slips away like water through fingers.
The arrow! The memory slams into me. The forest, Daciana sleeping, the attack, and then…the arrow that struck me. Not just any arrow—a poisoned one.
I force myself to move, gritting my teeth against the pain. I need to neutralize the poison before it—
“Don’t move. You’ll make it worse.”
The familiar voice stops me cold. I turn my head toward the sound, wincing as the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest.
Daciana approaches from the other side of the room, a bowl of steaming water in her hands. The soft candlelight catches the amber flecks in her eyes, the concern etched across her features.
“Where am I?” My voice comes out rougher than normal, barely recognizable.
“My quarters.” She sets the bowl down on a small table beside the bed. “I tried to take you to your chambers, but we ran into Artisem on the way. He said if it became known that you were injured, it would be a blow to the delegation’s standing. He told me to bring you here instead and to keep you concealed.”
I try to process this information through the fog clouding my mind. Artisem’s logic is sound—showing weakness now could undermine our political position. But I also know my right hand well enough to recognize the manipulation. Artisem has been pushing me to pursue Daciana ever since he noticed my interest in her.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I just need to—”
The room spins violently as I attempt to push myself upright. The pressure around my heart intensifies, a vise grip that steals my breath. I fall back against the pillows, unable to hide my grimace of pain.
Daciana’s eyes narrow. “For someone so supposedly powerful and mysterious, you sure were easily felled by a simple arrow.”
“Not simple,” I manage to say through clenched teeth. “The arrow was poisoned.”
Her face drains of color. “Poisoned? Are you certain?”
I nod, fighting to keep my eyes open as another wave of pain washes over me. “I can feel it…spreading. Attacking my heart.”
“I’ll get a healer,” she says, already moving toward the door.
I catch her wrist with more strength than I thought I still possessed. “No.”
She stares down at my hand, then at my face. “You’re scaring me, Kieran.”
I force a small smile, releasing her arm to brush my fingertips against her cheek. “I’m not going to die, little wolf.”
Her eyes widen slightly, a flush spreading across her face. “That’s—That’s not what I’m scared of.”
“Go to the Queen,” I say, dropping my hand back to the bed. “Ask her for three herbs: wolfsbane, silver thistle, and bloodroot.”
She frowns. “Wolfsbane is toxic. And I can just get Astra—”
I shake my head firmly. “Just ask for the herbs. Don’t tell her why.” The last thing I need is the entire court knowing the Snow Mountain alpha has been poisoned. “When you return, crush them into a paste and feed it to me.”
Daciana’s expression says she’s not convinced, but she nods reluctantly. “If you’re worse when I get back…”
“The herbs,” I insist. “Go.”
After one last worried glance, she leaves the room. The moment the door closes behind her, I let the mask of control slip. Pain crashes over me in waves, and I struggle to breathe. The poison is working faster than I anticipated, a sophisticated blend designed specifically for shifters with magical abilities.
I try once more to summon my magic, to direct it toward my heart to slow the poison’s spread, but it evaporates like smoke. Whatever this toxin is, it’s deliberately blocking my connection to my power.
Time becomes meaningless as I drift in and out of consciousness. The room grows colder, or perhaps it’s just the poison’s effect on my body. When I hear the door open again, I can barely turn my head.
Daciana rushes to the bedside, her face tight with fear. “You’re worse,” she accuses, setting a small pouch on the table.
I try to respond, but my mouth refuses to form words. My vision darkens at the edges, narrowing to a tunnel with her face at the center.
Working quickly, she empties the pouch, revealing three bundles of herbs. Her hands move efficiently as she grinds them together in a small mortar, adding drops of water until they form a thick, dark green paste.
“Open your mouth,” she commands, scooping some of the paste onto a spoon.
I try, but I can’t move. My body no longer responds to my commands, the poison having spread too far, too fast.
Daciana’s expression turns from fear to determination. Without hesitation, she puts a spoonful of the paste in her own mouth. Then she leans down, pressing her lips against mine, using her tongue to push the bitter mixture into my mouth.
The taste is vile—earthy and sharp and metallic all at once—but I manage to swallow. She repeats the process three more times, each time lingering a moment longer than necessary.
By the fourth spoonful, warmth begins to spread from my center outward. Not the comforting warmth of health returning, but the burning heat of magic awakening. The herbs aren’t an antidote; they’re a catalyst, designed to break through whatever is blocking my natural abilities.
My magic surges violently, burning away the poison’s hold. I gasp, my back arching off the bed as power courses through my veins.
Daciana jumps back, her eyes wide with alarm. “Kieran? What’s happening?”
I can’t answer, lost in the battle raging inside me. My wolf claws to the surface, desperate to help fight the attacker in our bloodstream. For a moment, I fear I might lose control and shift right here in Daciana’s bed.
But gradually, the burning subsides, replaced by the familiar, cool rush of my magic flowing freely again. I exhale slowly, feeling my heart resume its normal rhythm.
“Better,” I manage to say, my voice still rough but stronger now. “It’s working.”
Relief floods her face, quickly replaced by annoyance as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You could have warned me how disgusting that paste would taste.”
A laugh escapes me, though it turns into a cough. “My apologies, little wolf. Next time I’m poisoned, I’ll consider your delicate palate.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the small smile tugging at her lips. “Next time, try not to get poisoned at all.” Her expression grows serious again. “Who would want to kill you?”
“The arrow wasn’t meant for me,” I remind her, pushing myself up to a sitting position with only minimal dizziness this time. “It was aimed at you. Both arrows were.”
Her brow furrows. “But why? I’m just a soldier.”
“You’re the Queen’s personal guard and close friend,” I point out. “There are those who would want you dead. You have enemies.”
She crosses her arms, a defensive gesture. “So do you, apparently. That second arrow changed course. It was meant for you.”
I consider this. She’s right—the trajectory did shift. “Perhaps they didn’t care which of us they hit. Or perhaps…” I trail off, a suspicion forming in my mind.
“Perhaps what?”
I shake my head. “Nothing concrete yet.” I reach for her hand, surprising us both with the gesture. “Thank you for helping me.”
Her fingers tense in mine, but she doesn’t pull away. “I would have done the same for anyone.”
“No,” I say softly, holding her gaze. “You wouldn’t have.”
A flush creeps up her neck, and she withdraws her hand abruptly. “You should rest. The poison may be neutralized, but you still have an arrow wound.”
I lean back against the pillows, suddenly aware of how intimate this situation is, with me in her bed and her having just pressed her lips to mine, even if it was only to administer medicine.
“I’ll leave as soon as I can,” I promise.
“Don’t be stupid,” she says sharply. “Someone tried to kill us. We need to figure out who and why before you go anywhere.”
I raise an eyebrow at her commanding tone, amused despite the seriousness of the situation. “Is that an order, warrior?”
She doesn’t back down. “Yes, it is. And if you try to leave this room before you’re fully healed, I’ll tie you to the bed myself.”
The vivid image her words conjure brings heat to my blood that has nothing to do with poison or herbs. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the air between us charged with something dangerous and intoxicating.
“That would certainly give the court something to gossip about,” I finally say, my voice deliberately light.
She turns away quickly, busying herself with cleaning the mortar and pestle. “Get some sleep. I’ll take the chair.”
“Daciana,” I say softly, and I wait until she looks at me again. “Thank you. Truly.”
A vulnerable look flickers in her eyes before she masks it with her usual direct gaze. “Just don’t die in my bed, Alpha. The paperwork would be a nightmare.”
As she settles into the chair next to the bed, I close my eyes, allowing my body the time it needs to heal. But my mind remains alert, turning over the implications of the attack.
Someone wanted one or both of us dead. Someone who knows enough about my kind to create a poison that specifically targets magical abilities.
The list of potential enemies is longer than I’d like to admit. And I have a sinking feeling that this is only the beginning.