Transcription
Sonia can never fall in love. She can never marry. Because when she was a child, a fortune teller looked into her future and declared the man she marries would die by dawn. So Sonia stays away from romance. Instead, she throws herself into work and becomes the Alpha King's personal secretary. Which would be fine if she wasn't secretly, hopelessly in love with him. A man who barely knows she exists. Until tonight.
At the masquerade ball, Sonia wears an enchanted mask that hides everything. Her face, her voice, even her scent. And suddenly all the king can think about is her. Touching her, tasting her, having her. So she decides to allow herself this one night of happiness. What's the harm? By morning, the king will have forgotten all about her anyway.
Except come morning, the king makes a shocking declaration. The mysterious masked woman from the ball ran from him. He must find her. And he expects Sonia to help him.
Chapter 1
Being told at the age of seven that the man you marry will be dead by morning does, admittedly, narrow one's matrimonial prospects to approximately zero. Sonia Farrow had made her peace with this years ago. She wouldn't be able to fall in love. She wouldn't be able to marry. The prophecy, delivered by a glass-eyed woman at the village market, had been very clear about that. "The man who weds you will not see the next dawn. Your love is a beautiful poison, little bird. Guard it well."
So she had guarded it. And instead of becoming a romantic, she had become very, very good at her job. Sonia was the royal secretary to King Alpheus Vale of Velmara, a position she had clawed her way into through sheer competence. She kept schedules. She managed crises. She never flirted. Her professional motto: Be useful enough that no one looks too closely.
Because what made her employable was one very tidy, very illegal lie. A husband stationed with the northern border regiment, conveniently absent and utterly fictional. She couldn't marry, except the law demanded she did. She thus had to fake a husband while still being very much single. In Velmara, adult women who served the crown were required by law to belong to a household, as most people at court were shifters, and shifters took mates. This was just how it was.
So Sonia pretended and worked, and no one noticed her. Until tonight, at the masquerade ball. Because tonight, of all nights, the king, Alpheus Vale, her employer, a man who was always cold, detached, and extremely imposing, had chosen to show up royally drunk. Which is why she was currently dragging him toward the gardens before people started noticing.
Sure, they were all wearing magical masks she'd ordered for the occasion herself. Masks that made it impossible for guests to recognize each other's faces, voices, or scents. But it was impossible not to recognize the most powerful Alpha in the room. The king was tall, impossibly tall, and beautiful in the way that made you forget you were staring until you'd already been staring for too long. He was also, for the first time in his life, looking at Sonia with absolute delight. Usually, he tended to ignore her very existence. He was also getting progressively worse at maintaining the rhythm.
"Perhaps you should slow down," she said, watching him drain yet another glass.
"Why?" He smiled. "I'm having a wonderful time."
He knocked into a passing count hard enough to make the man stumble, making Sonia grimace. She'd never seen the king have more than one glass of wine at any event. And now, on tonight of all nights, the ball she'd planned from A to Z specifically so he could meet eligible princesses, he'd chosen to let loose.
"Let's get you some fresh air, Your Majesty," she said, taking his arm.
His eyes widened. "How did you know it's me?"
Sonia's mind spun. Wait. Did he not know it was her? He was an Alpha, the Alpha. He should be able to identify her by scent alone, mask or no mask. But then, to be fair, the masks were enchanted. She'd ordered them herself, specifically spelled to obscure voice and scent. She knew his mask because she'd ordered it. And she knew him because she spent an uncomfortable amount of time watching him. For professional reasons. Not because he was beautiful. He, on the other hand, didn't watch her.
"Lucky guess," she said finally.
He accepted this with a solemn nod. "How come I've never seen you before?" he asked suddenly.
"Maybe you have," she said. "Maybe I'm someone you can't stand."
His eyes widened in what looked like genuine alarm. "Oh gods, are you Lady Margaret?"
Sonia couldn't help it. She laughed. Lady Margaret was the daughter of the Queen Mother's dearest friend, whom both their mothers desperately wanted him to court. "I was only joking, sire," she managed, still smiling. "You're in good hands."
They reached the garden doors and she pushed them open. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of frost-edged roses and dying leaves. Alpheus took a deep breath and sighed. "Now," Sonia said, "you're going to drink some water and walk with me."
He was already moving deeper into the garden, pulling her gently along. Sonia followed, because what else was she going to do? Leave him to wander drunk through the gardens alone? Though this, walking with him, his hand warm in hers, the moonlight catching in his dark hair, felt like a different kind of disaster entirely. He leaned more of his weight against her, warm and solid.
"You're very good at this."
"At walking?"
"At holding me up." He said it with complete sincerity. "I feel very secure."
Despite everything, Sonia felt her mouth twitch. King Alpheus Vale, terror of the council chambers and notorious grump, was being absolutely ridiculous. And it was somehow the most endearing thing she'd ever seen. His foot caught on absolutely nothing and he lurched forward. They crashed backwards together. Her back hit the garden wall with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs. His hands came up on either side of her head, bracing them, and suddenly he was pressed against her, chest to chest, his face inches from hers. He laughed. "I'm so sorry. I'm gods, I'm a disaster."
"You don't say," Sonia muttered.
"Why tonight, of all nights?" The question came out softer than she'd intended, gentler.
"Would you believe me if I said heartbreak?" he asked quietly.
She thought of the king she knew, who kept everything locked down so tightly she sometimes wondered if he felt anything at all. "No," she said honestly.
He laughed, short and bitter and entirely humorless. His fingers laced through hers, and she forgot how to breathe. Then his other hand lifted, hesitant, and his fingers found a curl that had escaped her pins. He tucked it behind her ear with such careful gentleness that her breath caught.
"You're staring," she said finally.
He smiled. "Can't be helped, I'm afraid."
"I keep wanting to touch you," he said. "I've wanted to all night." He lifted his hand to her jaw, cradling her face with devastating gentleness. "May I?" he asked, so quietly she almost didn't hear it.
She knew what he was asking. She should say no. He was drunk. He didn't know who she was. Tomorrow he would wake up and hate himself for this. "Yes," she whispered.
So, when he kissed her, soft and careful, just a brush of lips, she kissed him back and felt him smile against her mouth. He pulled back just enough to look at her, checking, and then kissed her again. Her hands fisted in his coat and she pulled him closer, kissing him back with everything she'd been holding in. All the wanting and longing and desperate, foolish affection she'd been swallowing for months. He made a startled sound against her mouth, surprised and pleased, and then his arms were around her, pulling her flesh against him.
"Come with me," he said roughly. "Please. My chambers." He didn't finish. Just looked at her with those gray eyes gone gold at the edges, full of want and barely restrained need.
"Yes," she said. One night. One perfect, terrible, stolen night with the man she loved.
The walk to his chambers was a blur of stolen kisses and hurried footsteps. She pushed him onto the bed the moment the door closed, laughing at herself, and he pulled her down with him, grinning like she'd given him something wonderful. They undressed between kisses. She kept the mask on, half thrill, half shield. He reached for it once, curious, but when she turned her face away, he simply kissed her shoulder instead and didn't ask again.
What happened after was everything she'd never let herself imagine. He was attentive in a way that seemed impossible. His hand would slide up her ribs and pause, and somehow he knew to wait, to let the anticipation build until she arched into his touch. When he kissed down her body, he seemed to know exactly how long to linger, to press harder at her hip, gentler along her ribs. The king she worked for was demanding and difficult and impossible to please. The man in bed with her was generous and worshipful and so utterly focused on her pleasure that she forgot for a while that none of this was real.
When he finally moved inside her, his forehead dropped to hers and his breath came ragged. "Gods," he groaned. "I can feel everything. What you're feeling, it's He couldn't finish. Just kissed her deep and moved with her, finding the rhythm that made her clutch at his shoulders and gasp.
After, when they were both sated and trembling, he pulled her against his chest and pressed his face into her hair. "Why are you worried?" he mumbled, already half asleep. "I can feel it. Stop worrying. Just stay." His breathing evened out and within moments he was asleep. She lay there for a long moment, listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear. Then she rose carefully, dressed in the dark, and slipped out. When she finally stepped into the empty corridor and closed the door softly behind her, she pressed her spine against the cold stone wall and took a shaking breath. "That was the exception," she whispered to herself. "That was absolutely the exception." Then she straightened her shoulders and headed back to her quarters. She had a job to do and a secret she would take to her grave.
Chapter two.
Alpheus woke to a headache that felt personal and tried to remember why his mouth tasted like he'd licked the bottom of a wine barrel. Right. The autumn equinox masquerade. He'd gotten spectacularly, inadvisably drunk. The memories came back in pieces. Dancing, a woman in a mask, laughter that had made something in his chest go warm and tight. He'd brought her back to his chambers.
His eyes snapped open. He turned his head slowly, sudden movements felt like violence, and looked at the empty space beside him. She was gone. He sat up too quickly, immediately regretting it, and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. She didn't have to leave. She could have stayed, had breakfast with him, talked. Maybe they could have Heat pooled low in his gut at the memory of what they'd already done. Maybe more of that.
He looked at the empty bed again, something uncomfortable settling in his chest. Where the hell had she gone? Women didn't leave him. That wasn't how this worked. He was the one who arranged exits. He was the one who made sure things ended gracefully. He was the king, for God's sake. And she'd just left without a word, without a note, without even waking him. He flopped back onto the bed and glared at the ceiling. His body still felt loose and sated and pleasantly exhausted. And he'd been abandoned. Him.
A knock sounded at the door. "Your majesty?" Ankhie's voice carefully neutral. "It's past nine."
Alpheus looked down at himself. He was naked. "Come in," he called, yanking the sheet up to his waist. Ankhie entered with a tray, coffee, thank the gods, and the morning schedule. His expression remained perfectly neutral as he took in the state of the room. The scattered clothes, the abandoned mask on the bedside table, the king himself.
"Coffee, your majesty? Shall I review today's schedule?"
"I need to find her," Alpheus declared. "The woman from last night, I need to know who she was."
Ankhie paused. "I see."
"That isn't a response." Alpheus sat up.
"It was the kindest one available, sire."
Alpheus frowned, trying to pull details from the wine-soaked haze. "She wore a blue dress, had dark hair, smelled nice."
"Nice?"
"Yes, very nice. I really enjoyed her scent."
"You mean the fake scent she wore due to the enchanted masks?"
Alpheus groaned. "Stupid enchanted masks."
"You insisted on them, sire."
"I know. Don't remind me." He dragged his hands down his face. "There has to be a way to find her."
Ankhie pulled out his notebook with exaggerated precision. "So, this woman apparently has a face, has hair, smelled like something nice."
"She seemed to know me," Alpheus interrupted. "To know who I was, even with the mask."
"Your majesty," Ankhie said gently, "everyone knows who you are, mask or no mask."
Alpheus sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself remember. Her laugh. The way she'd teased him. The way she'd kissed him, hungry and demanding and utterly fearless. She'd been human. He was certain of it, not a shifter. He would have sensed her wolf, enchanted mask or not. But gods, the fire in her. The way she'd pulled his hair and climbed on top of him and taken what she wanted. Heat flooded through him and he had to adjust the sheet. He should have asked her to take off the mask, should have demanded her name. But he hadn't thought she would just disappear.
"Ankhie," he complained. "Why did you let me drink so much?"
Ankhie sighed. "I didn't let you, your majesty. Your majesty does what he pleases."
Alpheus peeked at him. "Please. We both know that's not true. If I could truly do what I please, I He stopped himself. He'd have gone after the woman he'd been pining for months ago. But he couldn't. King or not, his secretary was married and his employee.
Alpheus groaned and pressed his pillow over his face. He would not think about Sonya right now. Not when he'd finally managed to have a perfectly good evening where everything had been blurry enough to forget about her for once. To forget her smell. To forget the way his wolf went absolutely insane with want whenever she was near. No. Stop. He'd met someone last night. Someone else. Someone he'd felt an immediate pull toward. Someone his wolf had been just as fixated on as Sonya.
Alpheus blinked. "Wait a minute." His wolf had been just as interested in the mysterious stranger as it was in Sonya. A laugh escaped his throat, sharp and surprised and deeply relieved.
"Your majesty?" Ankhie sounded concerned.
"Oh," Alpheus said, grinning despite his headache. "Oh, that is such a relief."
"A relief, sire?"
"Don't you see?" Alpheus sat up. "For the past six months, all I've been able to do is think about Sonya. Think about her and try not to be obvious about it and generally try not to act on such feelings."
"Yes, sire, I'm aware."
Alpheus stopped, remembering last night. Sonya finding him locked out of his chambers, the way she'd looked at him. Her eyes tracking down his chest, lingering. The way she'd smelled. Gods, her scent. Arousal, sweet and unmistakable. He'd known he wasn't going to get through the evening without a glass of wolfsbane liquor or two. Or 15, apparently.
"I've been so focused on her," he said. "It was getting to a point where I He laughed. I was worried she might be my mate."
Ankhie blinked. "The woman at the ball, sire?"
"No," Alpheus sighed. "Sonya, obviously." He'd been worried. He could admit it now. This level of desire, this obsession, it sounded like a bond.
"But then," Alpheus continued, "last night, a miracle happened. I felt the same thing, the same pull, the same need to be near her. To be near Sonya?" Ankhie asked, trying to follow.
"No." Alpheus waved his hand. "The mysterious masked woman. Do keep up, Ankhie."
"Doing my best, sire."
"The woman in the mask must be my mate." He closed his eyes. "She has to be. I've never felt this way about anyone."
"Except for Lady Sonya," Ankhie said pointedly, "who you yourself have said you feel the exact same thing for."
"Not at all the same." Alpheus waved his hand. "Sonya is unavailable and would never kiss me or get in bed with me or do that thing with her mouth."
"We really don't have to go there, sire."
Alpheus snorted but kept going. "She had to be the one. He'd never felt so attracted to a woman before, never had such good sex, never been left by a woman before, either," he thought with a pout. "Must find her," he declared. "My mate, the masked woman."
"Right, we've established that. But how? She wore an enchanted mask. Everyone wore masks. I need someone who knows everything, the guest list, who was there, who declined, who wore what." He paused. "I must ask Sonya for help." He was already getting up.
"Sire?"
"What?"
"Perhaps consider putting on some clothes first." Alpheus looked down at himself. Right. Still naked.
Chapter 3.
Sonia arrived at her desk at her usual hour, in her usual clothes, with her usual expression, and proceeded to pretend that absolutely nothing had happened. The fact that she'd spent half the night in the king's bed and the other half lying awake in her own, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about the king's bed, was irrelevant. She needed to be professional. She had work to do. The trade agreement with the coastal provinces required another review. There was correspondence to sort through and approximately 7,000 other tasks that required her immediate attention. None of which involved thinking about the king's smile or his dimple or the way he'd looked at her in the moonlight like she was Stop. She pressed her palms flat against her desk and took a slow breath. Just act normal. Be professional. Pretend last night had never happened. She pulled the northern census report toward her and picked up her pen with hands that were absolutely, completely steady.
A shadow fell across her desk. She didn't look up. If she looked up, she might see his face. And if she saw his face, she might remember what that face had looked like when he'd kissed her.
"Can I help you, Your Majesty?"
"I'd say so." His voice was flat, stern, cold in a way that made something uncomfortable twist in her chest. She forced herself to look up. The king was standing beside her desk, hands clasped behind his back, expression carefully neutral. He looked nothing like the man who'd stumbled into her against a garden wall and laughed at himself, delighted and clumsy and completely unguarded. Her heart did something painful.
"The northern census or the trade agreement?" she managed, aiming for her usual brisk efficiency.
"Neither." He paused. "I need your help." He cleared his throat. "With something important."
She swallowed. "Whatever it is, I'll do my utmost to" She stopped. Because Alpheus was glancing around her small office and then very deliberately closing the door behind him. They were alone. Just her and him in her small office with the door closed and there was a mark on his neck, faint but visible, just below his collar. Her lipstick. Because he'd very much enjoyed being kissed there and she'd very much enjoyed kissing him there and Oh God, stop it.
"What is it you need my help with, sire?"
He caught her staring at his neck. His hand came up automatically, touching the spot. Right. He cleared his throat. "So, I met someone last night."
Sonia put every ounce of energy she possessed into keeping her expression neutral. "Did you?" she managed.
"I did. Someone who since then has evaporated." She blinked at him. "Is this a trick? Is he testing me because he's figured it out?"
"Evaporated, sire?"
"I cannot find her. His hands were still clamped behind his back. She's gone."
"I see." Sonia's mind was racing. "And you'd like me to" She had no idea how to finish that sentence. Fortunately, he jumped in.
"Find her for me."
Yes. She stared at him, trying to read his expression, trying to figure out if he knew and if this was some kind of test. But he just looked cold, detached, and all she could think about was the sound he'd made when she'd pushed him back onto the bed, the way his hands had gripped her hips when she'd straddled him. Heat flooded her face.
"You have access to the guest lists," Alpheus continued. "She wore a silver mask, delicate filigree work. Blue dress." He paused. "Find her. And when you do, report back to me."
"Is there" Sonia's voice came out smaller than she'd intended. "Anything else you can tell me about this person?"
His face fell slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was prim, almost defensive. "Unfortunately not. I'd had quite a lot to drink. I don't remember much." Then he straightened, somehow managing to make "I was blackout drunk last night" sound imposing through sheer force of presence.
Sonia's stomach dropped. "What is wrong with me?" she thought desperately. "Of course I shouldn't have slept with him while he was drunk. I'm a terrible person."
"I'll begin searching immediately, Your Majesty." She managed. He nodded once, sharply, and left.
The moment the door closed behind him, Sonia dropped her head to her desk with a soft thunk. And then did it again and again until "Good morning, Lady Sonia." She recognized Enki's voice but couldn't bring herself to lift her head.
"The king wants me to find the woman he slept with last night," she said into her desk.
"Oh, yes. I've heard about that." She finally looked up.
"Do you think he's going to behead her?"
Enki blinked. "Behead her? Beg your pardon?"
"For taking advantage of him while he was drunk."
"Oh," his expression cleared. "No, nothing of the sort. Quite the opposite, in fact."
Sonia frowned. "The opposite?"
"His Majesty was quite content with his nightly encounter," Enki said delicately. "To the point where he is now convinced the young lady he's looking for is his mate."
"His mate?" Sonia repeated slowly.
"Quite. His true mate."
She gaped at him. Enki, apparently mistaking her shock for confusion, continued gently. "For shifters like His Majesty, mates are"
"Yes, I know what a mate is to a shifter. Thank you." Sonia snapped. She knew. Of course she knew. A mate was the one person a shifter was meant to be with. Destiny or fate or biology, the scholars couldn't quite agree on which, but the bottom line was clear. A mate was the person a shifter would seek to claim. And Alpheus thought she was his mate.
For one wild, glorious moment, something like delight bloomed in her chest. Then reality crashed back down. He didn't think she was his mate. He thought his drunken conquest was. And she couldn't be his mate because she couldn't marry him. Marrying him would kill him. And furthermore, she'd been lying about being married for years. A grave offense in a kingdom where everyone was expected to marry young. Shifters had mates. They grew unsettled by celibacy, confused by it. Sure, Sonia was human, so it was less of a problem. She didn't have a wolf. But still, the law was the law. Unmarried women working for the crown were considered suspicious. If anyone found out she'd been lying,
"Miss Sonia?" Enki's voice was gentle. "I'd be happy to assist you in finding the young lady."
"Finding her?" Sonia repeated numbly.
"Yes. I know how insistent His Majesty can be when he desires something." Enki offered her a kind smile. "But fear not. If anyone can find his mate for him and make him happy, it's you."
Sonia stared at him. He was both right and wrong and she was in so much trouble. "Right," she said faintly. "Yes, of course. I'll start looking immediately." Enki nodded, satisfied.
Chapter 4.
Sonia stared at the list of names in front of her. Candidates for His Majesty's mysterious masked mate. She'd written 37 names so far. 37 eligible, unmarried women who'd attended the autumn equinox masquerade. 37 women who were decidedly, categorically, absolutely not the person the king was looking for. Because the person the king was looking for was currently sitting at her desk, holding a pen, and trying very hard not to have a complete breakdown.
"This is fine," she muttered to herself. The plan was simple. Look for the mysterious woman. Don't find her. Hope the king eventually gives up and moves on.
A knock sounded at her door. "Come in," she called. Enki entered, cheerful. "Good morning, Lady Sonia. I've taken the liberty of gathering the eligible young ladies from the ball."
Sonia's stomach dropped. "All of them?"
"Just the unmarried ones who fit His Majesty's extremely vague description." Enki consulted his notebook. "Dark hair or possibly brown, the king wasn't certain. Blue dress or perhaps blue adjacent, which describes approximately half the women at the ball," Sonia finished weakly.
"I was going to say 43% but half works, too." Enki offered her a sympathetic smile. "They're waiting in the corridor."
Sonia buried her face in her hands. She was about to interrogate 62 women to help the king find his mystery conquest when she was the mystery conquest. And no one could know. The large office felt like a throne room preparing for executions. She'd set up a desk at one end with two chairs for herself and Enki and a single chair opposite for the candidates. Sonia took a fortifying sip of tea. Then, because that wasn't nearly enough, a larger sip of brandy.
"Send in the first candidate." Countess Adora entered first. A petite blonde who went pale at the setup.
"Countess Adora, Sonia began. "Where were you last night when the clock struck 12? And 1 to 2 hours later?"
"Heavens, was a crime committed?" The Countess asked.
"She didn't answer the question." Enki declared, pointing his pen like a weapon. "Write that down."
Baroness Elvina swept in next, all confidence and silk. "The king's mystery woman. Everyone's talking about it. So romantic," she interrupted cheerfully. "Dark hair, blue dress, silver filigree mask," and sighed wistfully. "They looked quite taken with each other. Very sweet."
"Sweet?" Sonia echoed faintly. The Marquess's daughter couldn't remember anything useful, but took the opportunity to mention she was available for dinner at His Majesty's convenience. Miss Hallowell was certain the mystery woman had worn perfume that smelled like moonlight and promises.
"Moonlight doesn't have a scent," Enki pointed out.
"Well, it should," Miss Hallowell sniffed.
By the 20th interview, Sonia was ready to fake her own death and flee to a neighboring kingdom. "This is pointless," she muttered to Enki during a break. "What if he never gives up? What if he wants to keep searching forever?"
"Then we'll search forever," Enki said practically.
The next morning, Sonia arrived early to set up the room again. She was arranging papers when she felt it. That particular shift in the air that meant an Alpha had entered the room. King Alpheus Vale stood in the doorway, looking every inch the untouchable king and nothing like the man who'd laughed in her arms two nights ago.
"Your Majesty." She shot to her feet. "I wasn't expecting"
"I hear the investigation isn't going well," He said, his tone flat. "I thought I'd help."
"Of course he did. How thoughtful." She managed.
"Really?" Alpheus said, finally looking at her properly. "Because you don't seem very excited about my help." Up close, she could see shadows under his eyes. He hadn't slept well.
"I'd just hoped not to burden your Majesty with this," Sonia said carefully.
"This is my mate we're talking about," Alpheus said. "Surely if anyone can help sense her, it's me."
"Shouldn't you have sensed her by now?" She muttered, unable to stop herself. She was sitting right here after all.
"What was that?" Alpheus asked, eyes narrowing.
Sonia plastered on her brightest smile. "I'm sure you'll sense her in no time." The king turned away, jaw tightening, and proceeded to ignore her. The dismissal stung more than it should have.
"Your Majesty, before we begin, I think"
"Send in the first candidate." Alpheus called toward the door.
Sonia stared at his profile. He was so beautiful it made her chest ache. And he was treating her like she was invisible. Lady Ironwood walked in, dark-haired and wide-eyed and clearly nervous. Alpheus smiled warmly at her, and she went pink immediately.
"Good day, Lady Ironwood. Did you and I happen to share a dance at the masquerade? Maybe more?"
"No, more, Your Majesty." She stammered.
"Your Majesty," Sonia said, leaning slightly toward him. "I don't think it's wise to ask them point-blank if"
"A kiss, perhaps?" Alpheus continued, smiling, completely ignoring her. Lady Ironwood dissolved into giggles.
Something inside Sonia snapped. "That will be all. Thank you." Standing abruptly and ushering the girl toward the door. The moment it closed, Alpheus turned to her with a frown.
"You didn't have to be so cold."
"Excuse me?" Sonia replied. "It wouldn't hurt to smile. The poor girl was terrified. What did she ever do to you?"
Sonia gaped at him. "The girl wasn't terrified of me. She was flustered because of you. As every lady here will be if you imply something happened between you and them. Because you're the king." She gestured at his face. "And they have eyes. Which is what I would have told you if you'd bothered listening to me."
Alpheus's jaw dropped slightly. "And how do you tell me I'm being cold?"
"You're the coldest person I've ever met. Ever since we met, all you do is ignore me and act like being in the same room as me is some insurmountable feat you will not be subjected to."
The king paled. "I'm sure that's not true." And suddenly it was unbearable. Because it was like he was admitting to it. Sonia remembered, vividly, painfully, how different he'd been that night. How he'd asked, "May I?" before kissing her. How he'd smiled at her like she was something worth looking at.
"I apologize," The king said quietly. "I didn't realize I'd made you feel like I"
"You're just infinitely warmer to everyone else," She said. "I don't understand what I" She sighed. And the next words slipped out before she could stop them. "You seemed to like me just fine at the ball."
The moment they left her mouth, she regretted them. "The ball?" the king asked, his voice careful. "Did we talk?"
"Very briefly," Sonia said too quickly. "You were just in a better mood than usual."
The king searched her eyes, a light blush creeping up his neck. "I don't remember seeing you there. I think I would have. Remembered, I mean."
"Why?" Sonia asked, even though she shouldn't. "I'm not anybody special."
The king met her eyes. There was a moment where it looked like he was going to argue. "The Duchess Mariana." Someone announced from the doorway. The spell broke. Alpheus stepped back quickly, his expression shuttering. A tall blonde woman swept into the room, all confidence and polished beauty.
"Your Majesty. I've heard you were looking for me."
The king frowned slightly. "Looking for you, my lady?"
"You're looking for the woman in the mask," The Duchess said, stepping closer. "The one you spent a magical night with at the ball." Her smile widened. "I'm happy to announce you've found her."
Chapter 5.
Alpheus was going insane. That was the only explanation that made sense. He walked beside Duchess Mariana through the frost-edged gardens, listening to her discuss wedding venues, and tried to remember why he'd been so certain she was his mate.
"What do you think of a spring wedding?" She asked, squeezing his arm. "The gardens would be lovely then."
He nodded, even though he hadn't officially proposed. "Spring sounds fine," He managed. The Duchess beamed at him. She was beautiful, objectively, undeniably beautiful. His mother was going to love her. The court already did. The problem was his wolf. Not a single stir of interest, no pull, no instinct screaming mine the way it had at the ball.
He'd been spending time with her, trying to recapture whatever he'd felt. At first he'd been hesitant. He could have sworn the woman at the ball had been a brunette. But she'd had answers for everything. "I wore a wig, darling. For the mystery of it all. Why did I leave? Because I wasn't sure you wanted this as much as I did." The answers made sense. They should have made sense. So why didn't any of this feel right?
"Dinner tonight?" The Duchess asked, looking up at him with a coy smile. He forced himself to focus on her face. "Yes. Absolutely." He said, lifting her hand to kiss the back of it. The gesture felt hollow.
By the time he escaped to his office, Alpheus was ready to put his fist through something. Maybe there had been no connection. Maybe he'd just been drunk and stupid, and his wolf had been reacting to the wine, not to a mate bond. The thought was devastating. He'd been so certain, so relieved. Finally, a solution to the impossible situation with Sonia. A mate he could actually claim. Except now the woman he was supposed to want felt like a stranger. And this morning, sitting beside Sonia in that office, he'd felt more alive than he had in months.
He pushed away from the door and paced to the window, restless. He could still see her in his mind. The way she'd stood up to him, finger pointed at his face. She was right. He had been cold to her, deliberately, for months. Because the alternative was grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against him and kissing her until she forgot she had a husband. Wanting her was driving him slowly insane. And this morning, when she'd looked at him with those dark eyes full of hurt and asked what she'd done to displease him, "Nothing," he'd wanted to say. "You've done nothing except be perfect, and I can't stop thinking about you."
He scrubbed his hands over his face. He couldn't let himself think about Sonya like that. The duchess was his mate, or supposed to be. He needed to pull himself together and figure out if there was any chance of recapturing whatever had been there at the ball. His eyes landed on the bottle of wolfsbane liquor sitting on his desk. He stared at it for a long moment. If it had been the alcohol that made him feel the pull at the ball, then maybe the alcohol would help him feel it again. He downed a glass in one swallow and poured another. By his fifth, he was fairly certain this was either a brilliant idea or the worst decision he'd ever made. And he couldn't quite remember which. He was reaching for his sixth when his office door opened.
"Your majesty, I'm sorry for troubling you without an appointment, but" Sonya's voice cut off abruptly. Gods, she was beautiful. Had she always been that beautiful? Of course she had.
"What are you doing?" she asked slowly.
Alpheus paused, glass halfway to his mouth. It was only mid-afternoon. The sun was still high in the windows. "I'm doing my utmost best to get drunk by dinner time," he explained seriously.
Sonya blinked at him. "I want to see if my relationship has potential," he added, pouting slightly.
Sonya stalked across the room. "You don't need to be drunk for that," she snapped, grabbing his glass. "In fact, it's probably best if you aren't."
Alpheus stared at her. Her fingers had brushed his when she'd taken the glass, and the brief contact had sent heat racing up his arm. "You think so?" he asked.
"Obviously, your majesty," she set the glass down firmly. "Why would you even think something like that?" There was a flush creeping up her neck. Gods, he wanted to put his mouth there.
"Because it doesn't feel right," he sighed, the alcohol loosening his tongue. "The duchess says she's the woman from the ball, but it doesn't feel like she's my mate. I was so certain at the ball. Now I feel nothing." He looked up at Sonya, genuinely lost. "Am I going crazy?"
Her expression softened. She moved closer, rounding his desk, and placed her hand on his arm. He could feel the heat of her through the fabric. "Maybe give her a chance?" Sonya suggested gently. "Maybe she's just being shy."
Alpheus barely processed the words. He was too busy staring at her mouth. "Who do you mean?" he asked. His brain had stopped working the moment she'd touched him.
"The The duchess, sire," Sonya said.
"Oh." He blinked, trying to focus. "Right. Yes, the duchess." He sighed. The duchess's mouth wasn't nearly as lovely as Sonya's. "You really think I should give her a chance?"
Sonya stared back at him. Her lips parted slightly. "I" she started, then paused. Her scent changed. It sweetened, deepened.
"You" he prompted, leaning toward her. He couldn't help it. She was right there, and she smelled like heaven.
"I" Sonya closed her eyes. "No. No, I don't."
Alpheus froze. "You don't?"
"I don't think you should give her a chance, your majesty," she said fiercely. "I don't think the duchess is your mysterious lady. In fact, I think you should forget about her altogether. She doesn't deserve you." She hesitated. "You deserve to feel that spark, sire. You deserve honesty and and to be happy."
He kissed her. One moment he was looking at her beautiful, fierce, passionate face, and the next his hand was in her hair, and his mouth was on hers. She made a small, surprised sound, and then she was kissing him back with desperate, hungry want that matched exactly what he was feeling. "Yes," he thought, "finally. Gods, yes." His hands found her waist, and he pulled her hard against him. She tumbled into his lap with a gasp that he swallowed with another kiss. She fit against him perfectly, like every curve of her body had been designed to press against his. His wolf was howling with joy. He deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up her back, and then he heard her voice. "I shouldn't be doing this."
Except she couldn't have spoken because her mouth was on his. The realization cut through the haze. "I can't believe he's kissing me." came her voice again. It was a thought, he realized. He could hear her thoughts. This had happened before. At the ball, with the mystery woman. Screw it. "Don't want to stop," he heard. And he lost track of why it mattered and simply enjoyed it because he could feel what she was feeling. Her want, her desire. She wanted him.
"You should have said something," he groaned against her mouth, his lips moving to her jaw, tasting her skin. Why hadn't she told him? They could have been doing this for months. Her hands slid into his hair and pulled, hard enough to make him groan, hard enough to send pleasure pain racing down his spine. And then she kissed that particular spot just below his ear, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. And he remembered. The masked woman had done the exact same thing to the exact same spot. He'd felt her emotions then, too. Just like he was feeling Sonya's now. The duchess wasn't the masked woman. The masked woman was Sonya. And Sonya was his mate.
"I shouldn't have done that," she said, pulling away abruptly. "I'm sorry. I should go." And then she ran. The door slammed shut behind her with enough force to rattle the frame. Alpheus sat there stunned, staring at the closed door. The woman he'd been desperately searching for was Sonya. And she'd run away from him.
Chapter six.
Sonya was an idiot. A complete and utter fool. She sat at her small desk in her quarters, staring at the crack in the plaster wall she'd been meaning to have fixed for months, but all she could see was him. The king. She had kissed the king. Had climbed into his lap in his office and kissed him like she was starving for it, her hands in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan. The memory made heat flood through her even now. The sounds he'd made when she'd kissed that spot below his ear. The way his hands had roamed her body. Gods, what had she been thinking? She hadn't been thinking. That was the problem.
Her tea had gone cold on the desk beside her. She wrapped her hands around the cup anyway, desperate for something to hold on to. Because she couldn't tell Alpheus the truth. At worst, she'd be punished for lying about being married, imprisoned in the cells beneath the palace, or exiled to the outer territories. The penalty for deceiving the crown about one's marital status was severe. But at best, and here her traitorous heart gave a stupid, hopeful leap, he would insist on marrying her anyway. She could picture it so clearly it hurt to breathe. He would tell her he didn't care about her fake husband or some obscure prophecy. Would kiss her the way he had and stand beside her in the throne room and announce she would be their queen. And then he would die.
The warmth vanished so completely she actually gasped. She could see it now. Alpheus cold and motionless on their marriage bed, his skin pale as marble in the dawn light, those beautiful dark eyes closed forever. His hand in hers, growing colder by the minute, like her little brother's had. Her stomach lurched. "The man who weds you will not see the next dawn," the fortune teller had said. She could still feel the old woman's hand gripping hers, cold and papery and impossibly strong.
Sonya set the cracked teacup down with trembling fingers. She couldn't let that happen to Alpheus. Couldn't let him die because she'd fallen in love with him like an idiot. She took a shaky breath and forced herself to think rationally. Hopefully, this was all a fluke. He only liked her when he was very drunk, overcome by wine and proximity and whatever strange magic let him sense emotions. He hadn't seemed that drunk last night, but he definitely hadn't been entirely sober, either. Yes, That had to be it. Just attraction. Amplified by alcohol and the stress of the duchess' situation. This was manageable. Today, she would avoid him. Keep things professional and distant and safe. She gathered her papers and made her way through the palace corridors, repeating the plan with every step. Professional. Distant. For his own good. To keep him alive. She reached her office door and paused. Alpheus was there. He stood the moment she entered, rising from the chair beside her desk so quickly it scraped loudly against the floor. He looked hopeful and flustered. Two things she'd never seen on him before. Not in all her months of working for him. It did terrible, wonderful, devastating things to her poor heart.
"Sonia." He said gently. She clutched her papers against her chest like armor.
"May I help you, your majesty?"
His face fell. The hope extinguishing all at once. Professional hurt him, apparently. The realization made guilt twist sharp in her gut.
"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice cautious.
"About what happened last night?"
"No." They absolutely could not talk about it. It was nothing. She said quickly, moving past him to set her papers down. "Just a"
"It wasn't nothing," Alpheus protested. She made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His eyes were devastating. Dark and intense. And full of something that looked like longing. He moved closer. One hand extending toward her in a gesture that was both tentative and desperate. It was everything to me. He said. She could see it in his face. He meant it.
"You were drunk," Sonia said weakly.
"Not that drunk," He countered, taking another step closer. "I thought your masked woman from the ball was everything to you." She tried desperately.
"I know that was you." Alpheus said offended.
Sonia felt the blood drain from her face. "No, that's not"
"I can feel your emotions and thoughts when we touch. When we kiss," Alpheus interrupted. "I felt the same thing at the ball. The same connection. It was you." He paused. "You're my mate, Sonia. Only you. That's how I knew."
Panic flooded through her, sharp and cold and overwhelming. Like being plunged into ice water. His fingers closed around hers. Warm and sure and achingly gentle.
"Are you really so afraid of me?" He asked softly, releasing one of her hands to cup her cheek.
"You can really feel what I feel?" She whispered, searching his face.
"Yes," Alpheus said simply. "And you'd feel me too if I were to claim you properly. The bond works both ways. It's just incomplete right now. Dormant. But it's there, Sonia. I can feel it."
"You're always so distant," She protested.
"Only because it's nearly impossible not to reach for you," Alpheus said. "I thought you were married and I was trying not to want something I couldn't have. Trying not to make you uncomfortable with how much I wanted you." He paused. "I'm sorry," He said quietly. "For being cold to you."
"No, don't apologize," She said. The words tumbling out. "I should have been honest about the masquerade ball. I just" He kissed her. Cut off her rambling with his mouth on hers, gentle and desperate and perfect. She kissed him back helplessly. All her carefully constructed walls crumbling to dust. For just a moment. One stolen, perfect moment. She let herself believe it could be real. He tasted like hope and possibility. And every fantasy she'd ever tried to bury.
But then. The man who weds you will not see the next dawn. The prophecy slammed into her like a bucket of ice water. She saw it with horrible clarity. This beautiful, stubborn man cold and lifeless. And her shaking him like she had her brother.
"Wait." She gasped.
"Your majesty?"
"Please, Sonia." Alpheus pleaded. "Don't pull away from me. Not"
"I'm married," She said. The lie tasted like ash.
Alpheus went very still. His jaw worked like he was physically forcing himself not to speak. "I know," He said finally. His voice strained. "I know you are. But Sonia." The word seemed to catch in his throat. "You're my mate. I can't just ignore that. I can't pretend I don't feel this." When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I want you to be mine, Sonia. My mate, my wife. My queen."
The words stole the air from her lungs. She should tell him the truth. The confession was right there on her tongue. But she could already see how it would play out. He would insist the prophecy was nonsense. Dismiss it as
Superstition. He had to marry. The council had made that abundantly clear. And he would choose her despite the risk. She knew he would.
Except the prophecy was real. She knew it was real because her brother had been with her that day. Sitting beside her in that musty tent at the traveling fair. Giggling while the fortune teller's eye clouded over. The old woman had placed her withered hand on his young face and said, "You will pass before your 18th birthday." Her brother had laughed it off for months, teasing her about her own grim prophecy. Then he died 3 weeks before he turned 18. Quick. Brutal. Exactly as predicted. The prophecy was real. And if she married Alpheus, he would die at dawn.
"I'm sorry, your majesty." She said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I made vows. To my husband. I must respect them."
His face crumpled. His hands, which had been reaching for her, fell to his sides, empty and useless.
"But surely that can't be it." His voice cracked. "Please, there has to be—"
"I think it's best if I transfer to another position." Sonia interrupted. "So we can avoid any more encounters in the future."
Alpheus looked like she'd struck him across the face. Then something changed. His expression shuttered, going carefully blank in that way she recognized from months of working for him. The vulnerability disappeared behind walls of ice and stone.
"If that's what you want." He said quietly.
It wasn't what she wanted. It was the furthest thing from what she wanted. But it was what would keep him alive. Sonia nodded, not trusting her voice, and left quickly. The click of the latch behind her sounding horribly final.
Chapter 7.
A month since Sonia had walked out of Alpheus' office with her heart in pieces. A month since she'd seen him look at her with anything but cold, distant professionalism on the rare occasions their paths crossed. A month of misery. She stood in her small quarters, packing the last of her belongings into a worn trunk. Everything fit into one trunk and two bags. That was all she had to show for her time here.
Tonight was the ball where Alpheus would announce his queen, as he had to by royal decree to keep the crown. She didn't want to be here for that. So, she'd found a position at a duke's estate 3 days ride from the capital. Far enough that she wouldn't have to hear about the royal wedding. Far enough that she wouldn't have to see him smile at another woman the way he'd smiled at her. Better to leave now while she still had the strength.
A knock at the door made her jump. "Come in." She called, expecting one of the maids. Enki entered instead. Looking impeccable as always.
"Lady Sonia." He said warmly. "I came to see you off. Your carriage is waiting downstairs."
Something in her chest twisted painfully. "That's very kind of you, Enki."
"You'll be missed." He said. "The palace won't be the same without you." Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded document. "But before you go, I have something for you."
Confused, Sonia took the paper and unfolded it carefully. It was a death certificate. Jonathan Bloomsbury. Deceased. Killed in action at the northern front. She read it once. Twice. Her brain struggling to process the words. Because Jonathan Bloomsbury was her husband. The one who didn't exist. And according to this official death certificate, blessed with the royal seal. He'd died this very morning.
She looked up at Enki. Her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
"I'm very sorry for your loss." He said with a small smile.
"I don't understand." Sonia managed.
"Well." Enki said, settling into the chair. "I looked into your husband, you see. The one you claimed to be married to. You can imagine my surprise when no one could find a single trace of a Jonathan Bloomsbury at the front whatsoever. Not only that, but I looked for your marriage certificate. Of course, there were no traces of that either."
Silence fell as Sonia's mind raced. She was caught. After all this time, all her careful lies, she'd been found out. And now, what? Prison?
"I can explain." She said desperately.
Enki smiled. Not warmly, exactly, but not coldly, either. "No need, Lady Sonia. I have something else for you." He handed her another document. With trembling hands, Sonia unfolded it. An official wedding certificate, dated yesterday, between Sonia Sparrow and Jonathan Bloomsbury, witnessed and sealed with the royal stamp. She stared at it, her brain refusing to make sense of what she was seeing.
"Lucky that we could have things formalized yesterday before he passed, isn't it?" Enki said lightly. "Otherwise, people might have asked questions down the line about your supposed marriage."
"I don't understand." Sonia blinked, completely lost.
"Miss Sonia," Enki said gently, leaning forward slightly. "You wouldn't be the first lady in the kingdom to wish to avoid a forced marriage. The rules are mainly made for shifters. We aren't meant to be un-mated for too long. Biological imperatives and all that. But humans don't have the same drives. You should have more options." He shrugged elegantly. "You didn't want to be forced into marriage, so you invented a husband. Frowned upon, certainly, but hardly deserving of some grand trial."
Relief crashed over her, so intense she felt light-headed. But then confusion rushed back in just as strong. "Why help me?" she asked, searching his face. "Why do this?"
Enki looked surprised, his eyebrows rising. "Oh, well, I thought that would have been rather obvious." He paused. "Because His Majesty asked me to, of course."
The world stopped. "His Majesty?" Sonia breathed.
"He asked me to look into your husband," Enki explained. "Probably out of pure jealousy, though he would never admit it. When I found out the truth—"
"You mean?" Sonia swallowed painfully. "You mean Alpheus knows about—"
"Quite." Enki confirmed. "He concluded you probably wanted to avoid having to marry anyone you didn't wish to, him included, and used the fake husband as an excuse."
Sonia's legs gave out completely. "So he had me rectify the situation," Enki continued. "Legitimize your union retroactively, so to speak, and then, well, tragic battlefield death. These things happen in war."
"Alpheus knows I was never really married?" Sonia said, her voice barely functioning.
Enki nodded calmly. "That's right."
"And he asked you to help me?"
Another nod.
"And he assumed I lied to avoid marrying him?" Sonia grimaced.
"Precisely." Enki confirmed.
She closed her eyes. Her chest felt like it was caving in. "Enki," she said, voice shaking. "I need you to confirm this one last time. The king thinks I made the whole marriage up because I didn't want to marry him?"
The full horror of it crashed over her as Enki nodded. He thought she'd rejected him. Thought she'd been so desperate to avoid marrying him that she'd invented an entire husband. And still, still, he'd tried to help her. She wanted to cry.
"Well," Enki said gently. "I understand it's difficult saying no to a king. He does, too. Though I have to admit he was rather hurt about the whole thing."
Sonia stood abruptly and started pacing. "At least you're free, Miss Sonia," Enki said, something pleased creeping into his voice. "Not only were you officially married, but you are now widowed. You don't need to marry if you don't want to, and you don't need to justify a fake husband's absence, either."
She barely heard him. Her mind entirely consumed with imagining Alpheus's face when Enki had told him the truth.
"Though I suppose," Enki said, "that was the quickest marriage in history. You only technically married him yesterday, and he didn't even see the next dawn."
Sonia froze mid-step. "What did you just say?" she asked, her voice coming out strangled.
Enki looked up, still smiling. "It almost sounds like a novel, doesn't it? Like the first man you wed doesn't even see the next dawn. The first man you wed will not see the next dawn. Not the man you wed. Not any man who marries you. The first man, which, on a technicality, was exactly what had happened. The certificate was real, witnessed, sealed, legal, and by dawn, her husband had been dead. It couldn't be that simple. Her brother's prophecy had taken his life. He'd actually died, horribly and exactly as predicted. There was no way hers ended on a technicality. Could there?"
"Anyway, Miss Sonia," Enki said, standing. "Your carriage awaits." He paused at the door, looking back at her, standing frozen in the middle of the room, gaping. "Unless, of course, you'd like to say goodbye to His Majesty before you leave."
"Yes." Sonia said. "Yes, where is he?"
Enki examined his nails with studied casualness. "Well, he's probably at his engagement ball by now."
"His engagement ball?" she repeated, feeling slow. Because she knew that. Of course, she knew that. But now that there might be a chance, however slight, that perhaps they could be together.
"The ball, yes," Enki said, announcing his future queen. "The woman he's going to marry."
"Where are you going?" But Sonia was already rushing past him, yanking open the door and running down the corridor. For the first time in her life, she felt real, genuine hope. She couldn't lose him. Not now. Not when she'd just realized she might actually be able to have him.
She ran through the palace corridors, her traveling dress hampering her steps, and finally burst through the doors to the grand ballroom. Music and laughter and the warm glow of a thousand candles hit her all at once. The room was packed with nobles in their finest. She ignored them all, her eyes frantically scanning the crowd. There. On the raised dais at the far end of the ballroom, glass of champagne in hand, Alpheus, devastatingly handsome in formal attire. Her king.
"And this is why," he was saying, his deep voice carrying across the ballroom. "I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate my engagement."
Sonia's heart plummeted. She pushed through the crowd, not caring who she elbowed aside.
"So without further ado," Alpheus continued. "I'd like to announce that I—"
"No!" Sonia screamed.
The music stopped abruptly. Alpheus paused, his mouth still open on the unfinished sentence. Everyone everyone turned to stare at her. Sonia stood in the middle of the ballroom in her traveling clothes, her hair a mess, breathing hard.
"I mean I—" she stammered.
Alpheus's eyes found hers across the crowd. He frowned slightly, confusion and hurt warring in his expression.
"Don't marry her." Sonia said, her voice breaking. "Whoever you're going to marry, don't—"
"Who is this?" an old lady whispered loudly.
"Shh." Her companion hissed.
"What are you doing here, Sonia?" Alpheus asked cautiously.
"I came to thank you." she said, taking a step forward. The crowd parted around her like water. "For what you did for me. And to tell you that I—" She hesitated. This was it. No going back. "To tell you that I love you."
A collective gasp echoed across the room. Sonia clenched her fists.
"I was hoping you might reconsider your engagement." she continued. "For a bit. Maybe."
"Maybe?" Alpheus repeated, unreadable as ever.
"Perhaps you'd consider delaying it." Sonia said, climbing the steps to the dais. "And giving us another chance."
"But you—" His facade cracked slightly.
"You said—"
"I lied." Sonia said simply.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. "She lied!" someone exclaimed. "Wait, what did she lie about?"
"I know you know I lied." Sonia said quickly. "But you should know I didn't lie because I didn't want you. I lied to protect you. There was this prophecy I'd been told when I was young. I didn't want to believe it. But my brother's prophecy came true and he died and I was so afraid that if I married you, you'd die too."
"She's not explaining this very clearly." Someone in the crowd muttered. "I'm very confused."
"She thought she couldn't be with the king because a prophecy said he'd die." Another person explained impatiently. "Do keep up."
"You could have just told me that." Alpheus said, his voice rough with emotion. "Instead of making me believe that you didn't want—"
"Yes. I know." Sonia said, reaching for his hand. "But just like you felt you had to be cold towards me or you wouldn't be able to resist what's between us. I thought if I told you the truth and you didn't believe me I wouldn't be able to resist either. And I didn't want to risk your life."
Alpheus' expression softened. "Are you saying you feel the same way I do?"
Sonia took his hand and squeezed it, staring into his eyes. Those beautiful dark eyes that had haunted her dreams for a month.
"Don't get married." She whispered.
Something like amusement flickered across his face. "Oh, I plan to get married." He said.
Sonia's face fell. "To you, Sonia." Alpheus said. "I'll marry you." He smiled. Really smiled. That rare, brilliant smile that transformed his entire face. And then he kissed her. His hands framing her face in front of everyone. The entire court. The nobles. The council members. Everyone who mattered. The ballroom erupted in applause.
Epilogue.
Fear doesn't always disappear overnight. The morning after their wedding, Sonia woke with her heart in her throat. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the royal chambers and Alpheus who she'd married the day before lay beside her perfectly still. His face peaceful. And she thought too still. Panic clawed at her chest. She reached for him with trembling fingers, pressing her hand to his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her palm. Relief crashed over her so intensely she started crying.
"Sonia?" Alpheus' eyes opened, concern flooding through their bond. "What's wrong?"
"You're alive." She gasped, half laughing, half sobbing. "I woke up and you were so still and I thought—"
He pulled her into his arms, his hand stroking her hair. "I'm here, my love. The prophecy was fulfilled, remember? I'm not your brother."
"I know. I just—" She buried her face in his chest. "My brother, when we found him, he looked like he was sleeping at first. And then—"
"And then I'm not your brother." Alpheus said gently, tipping her face up to meet his eyes. "We had three different seers confirm it. The prophecy was real, but it's done. Jonathan Bloomsbury didn't see the dawn after your wedding. You're safe. I'm safe." She could feel him through the bond, alive and whole and utterly certain.
"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I know it's irrational."
"It's not irrational. You watched your brother die from a prophecy. Of course you're scared." He kissed her forehead. "But I'm still here. Still breathing. Still completely obsessed with my wife."
She laughed wetly. "Your wife." She said, tasting the novelty of the word.
"My wife. My mate. My queen." He punctuated each word with a kiss. "And I'm not going anywhere." Through their bond, she felt his love wash over her, steady and certain and real.
"I love you." He said.
"I know." She smiled. "I can feel it. I can't believe I ever thought you were cold."
"I was cold. Had to be. You were driving me insane." He rolled on top of her, kissing her thoroughly. "Now that you're mine, no more restraint. No more distance." She felt everything he felt. Love. Contentment. Bone deep satisfaction. To think they'd almost lost each other because of her fear.
"Well, that and I still can't believe Duchess Mariana tried to pretend she was me." Sonia sighed.
Alpheus groaned. "The woman wore a wig. She was determined to be queen. She was very much not my mate." He said firmly. "That position was already taken."
Sonia smiled. No more hiding. No more fear. No more prophecies. Just Alpheus alive and warm and hers. Forever.
I hope you enjoyed this one. The fact that Alpheus wasn't cold because he didn't care. He was cold because he cared too much and was trying to hold himself together. Did you suspect that was the reason or did it catch you off guard? I'd love to know what you think. If you'd like to continue, bonus chapters, alternate POVs, and exclusive stories are waiting for you on Patreon. The link is below. I'll see you there.