The Travel
446 Words
They traveled through the forest under armed guard. Bloodridge wolves emerged from the darkness like shadows taking shape. They bowed to Darius, but their eyes widened when they saw Aria.
The rejected mate.
The claimed rival.
The woman who might start a war.
Hours later, they reached Bloodridge territory. Its fortress rose from the cliffs above the black sea, all stone towers and iron gates. It should have frightened her.
Instead, Aria felt a strange calm.
Enemy territory was honest.
Silvermoon had smiled while hiding knives.
Inside, Darius led her to a chamber warmed by firelight.
“You’ll stay here,” he said.
Aria turned slowly.
“With guards outside?”
“Yes.”
“So protection looks a lot like imprisonment.”
Darius’s eyes held hers.
“If I wanted you imprisoned, you would know.”
She lifted her chin.
“And if I wanted to leave?”
“You would try.”
“And you would stop me?”
A pause.
Then, quietly, “I would follow you.”
Her pulse betrayed her.
Darius stepped closer, but not too close.
“I will not force you to trust me, Aria. But understand this. The moment I claimed you, every enemy I have became yours.”
“And what do I gain?”
His gaze lowered to her lips for a single dangerous second before returning to her eyes.
“Survival.”
Aria hated the warmth that moved through her at his closeness.
“Survival has a price.”
“Yes.”
“What is yours?”
Darius’s expression changed.
The cold Alpha mask slipped, revealing something older. Darker. Wounded.
“You will sit beside me at tomorrow’s council.”
Aria frowned.
“As what?”
His answer came quietly.
“My claimed mate.”
Her heart jolted.
“No.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You asked the price.”
“I am not a decoration for your politics.”
“No,” he said. “You are the weapon.”
The words should have insulted her.
Instead, they struck something buried inside her.
Because for years, Silvermoon had used her brilliance quietly, conveniently, without ever giving her power.
Darius was offering power.
Dangerous power.
Visible power.
Before she could answer, a servant rushed in, pale and trembling.
“My Alpha,” he said. “A messenger from Silvermoon.”
Darius took the folded note.
His expression darkened as he read.
Then he handed it to Aria.
Her hands turned cold.
The message was written in Kael’s hand.
Return Aria by sunrise, or I will declare war.
Below it, in a different script, was one more line.
The girl must not learn what she is.
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