Chapter 3 – Summoned
837 Words
We almost made it to the service wing.
Bootsteps rang ahead, sharp on marble. Not a casual patrol — purpose.
Two wolves turned the corner: a tall man in dark charcoal, a woman in black and silver. Advisor and security, по запаху.
“Miss Rowan?” the man asked.
“Depends,” I said. “Who’s asking?”
“Lord Riven Halmar. King’s First Advisor.” He tipped his head toward the woman. “Captain Grace Lynn, Royal Guard. His Majesty requests your presence.”
Requests. Not invites.
My wolf pressed against my ribs, hackles high. Trap.
“I was actually on my way out,” I said. “Long day.”
Riven’s gaze didn’t flicker. “There were… irregularities at the reception. The Council will have questions. Best to start here.”
El’s hand tightened on my arm. “Lia doesn’t owe—”
“This concerns Miss Rowan alone,” he cut in, polite but immovable.
Saying no would paint a target on Mara. On El. On us.
My throat felt dry. “Fine,” I said. “Lead the way.”
El leaned in, whispering, “I’ll call Mara. I’ll stay outside. Don’t let them shrink you.”
The parlor they took me to was all dark wood, blue velvet, and too‑quiet air. Wards tingled over my skin as we crossed the threshold.
He stood by the fireplace, back to us, jacket off, crown on a side table. Sleeves rolled, hands braced on the mantel like he was holding the whole building up.
His scent hit first. Storm and stone and iron control. My heart stuttered.
“Miss Rowan, Your Majesty,” Riven said. “As requested.”
Kaiden inhaled, shoulders rising and falling. When he turned, my wolf shut up mid‑snarl.
Up close, three years sat on him like armor: new lines at his eyes, a thin scar along his jaw. Same mouth. Same eyes. Same gravity.
“Lia,” he said.
My name sounded wrong in his voice. Too worn.
“Your Majesty,” I answered.
The air between us hummed, that raw half‑formed pull tugging like a hook behind my breastbone. Worse here, without a crowd to blur it.
“Shall we remain?” Riven asked quietly.
“You and Captain Lynn stay,” Kaiden said, eyes still on me. “If the Council wants their own questions, they can wait.”
He stepped closer. The pull snapped tight; I had to grab the back of a chair to stay upright. Our scents collided, flared.
For half a heartbeat, everything in me leaned toward him.
Mine.
I slammed that door so hard my head rang.
“You were supposed to be dead,” he said, voice rough.
“So were a lot of people,” I said. “Turns out we’re inconvenient.”
“The ritual—”
“Worked.” My mouth went dry at the memory. “I remember.”
Silence stretched, edged and sharp.
“Then explain this.” Another step. Pain/heat flickered where our bond scar hid under my skin. “Explain why I can smell you across a room. Why my wolf—”
“Not my problem,” I cut in. “Three years ago you stood under the Council’s stone and told everyone I was too weak to stand beside you. Whatever this is? You fix it.”
His jaw flexed. “You think I asked for this?”
“I think I gave myself thirty days in this city,” I said. “And you’re already making me regret day one.”
His gaze dropped to my throat, then jerked back up, almost careful. “Thirty days. Then you leave.”
“Yes.”
“Until then,” he said, “you stay where I can see you.”
I laughed once, without humor. “Absolutely not.”
“Lia—”
“No packs,” I said. “No kings. No second chances. Those were my terms.”
His wolf growled low at that last word, second, vibrating in my bones. Underneath, I saw it at last: real fear.
Not for his throne. For me.
“The bond is back,” Kaiden said quietly. “The Council won’t ignore that. Last time, they forced my hand. This time—”
“I survived their last ‘solution’,” I said. “I’m not letting them touch me again.”
His eyes met mine, steady. Less king, больше мужчина, зажатый между мной и миром.
“Then don’t run yet,” he said. “Give me time to keep them from tearing into you. Twenty‑nine days, Lia. Stand with me for that long, or at least don’t disappear before I can put a leash on the Council.”
Twenty‑nine days. A ghost‑bond pulsing between us like a second heartbeat.
And somewhere very deep inside, my wolf — предательница — went still and watchful.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to run at all.
- Writer
