His False Mate, Her True Rise

CHAPTER 7

Elena slowly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, unsure where she was. Her body felt heavy, as though sleep had dragged stones into her bones. Moonlight still poured through the window, pale and cold across the room. A figure sat beside her bed, quiet and unmoving.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the figure said.

Elena turned her head and blinked in surprise. “Elaine?” Her voice came out rough and weak. She pushed herself upright, wincing at the ache still lingering in her chest.

“Try not to look so shocked,” Elaine said, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s a full moon. You faint every time there’s one, so this hardly counts as a surprise.” Her tone was casual, as though discussing the weather, but her eyes stayed fixed on Elena.

Elena looked down at the blanket in her lap. “I thought it stopped,” she muttered quietly. The last time it had happened, she had been younger. She had hoped coming to Lycoria would somehow change things.

“It clearly didn’t,” Elaine replied. She reached for a small packet on the table and tossed it onto the bed. “Your pills. The healer said to take them when you woke up.”

Elena caught the packet and frowned. “Why are you here?” she asked before she could stop herself. Elaine raised a brow, as though the answer should have been obvious.

“Because Mother would be furious if you died on the first week,” Elaine said lightly. Then she stood and smoothed her skirt. “And because carrying you here was annoying enough. I wasn’t doing it twice.”

Elena stared at her, unsure whether to believe the cruelty or the concern hidden badly beneath it. Elaine moved to the door and rested a hand on the handle. “Try not to collapse next month,” she said. “You’re already embarrassing enough.”

Then she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Kael sat in his suite with a sealed letter resting in his hands. The wax crest was stamped in gold, the mark of the Alpha King himself. He broke it open and read in silence, his expression darkening with every line. By the time he finished, the room felt colder.

“What did he say?” Rowan asked from the chair near the window.

Kael folded the letter once before answering. “I am to mark my mate before the night of the Red Moon,” he said. “The order comes through the saintess.” His jaw tightened slightly. “If I fail, they claim calamity will fall on the pack.”

Rowan barely reacted. “Then do it.”

Kael looked at him in disbelief. “It is not that simple.” He tossed the letter onto the table and ran a hand through his hair. “I have barely spoken to Elaine, and now I am expected to bite her neck like a command was enough to make it right.”

Rowan shrugged. “You like her. She is your mate. Problem solved.”

“I do not want to force her,” Kael said sharply. “And I do not trust prophecies used as threats.” His voice lowered after a moment. “Not when a kingdom is attached to them.”

“The goddess does enjoy drama,” Rowan said dryly.

Kael would have laughed on another day. Instead, he stared at the unopened window where dawn light was beginning to spill through. Something about the entire matter felt wrong, though he could not explain why.

Rowan crossed one leg over the other. “Then woo her,” he said. “Charm her, confess devotion, gain a wife. You already do half of that daily.”

Kael ignored the jab. “I’m going to see Phoebe,” he said, reaching for his coat. “If anyone knows why this feels wrong, it will be her.”

Without waiting for another reply, he left the suite. Rowan watched the door close and wondered whether Kael was worried about the prophecy or the girl he had not chosen.

“Harder,” Rowan called across the field, his voice cutting through the afternoon air. Wooden swords rose and crashed down against the training dummies in a wave of force. Some first years sent heads flying clean off the posts, while others carved deep gashes through the packed straw. Elena’s strike left only a shallow scratch, and the recoil knocked the sword from her hands.

Snickers spread through the line almost instantly. A few students turned away laughing, while others made no effort to hide their amusement. Heat rushed into Elena’s face as she bent quickly to retrieve the fallen sword. She hated how familiar humiliation felt.

“Enough.”

Rowan did not raise his voice, yet silence fell at once. His gaze moved slowly across the students until no one dared meet it for long. “Since these dummies are clearly beneath some of you,” he said coolly, “you will spar with me one by one.”

Excitement flashed through the group. Several students straightened immediately, greed bright in their eyes. Rowan rested a practice sword against his shoulder. “Anyone who lands a clean hit earns fifteen points.”

Murmurs broke out at once.

Then Rowan looked at Elena. “Except you.”

Her grip tightened around the sword handle. Before embarrassment could rise again, Rowan continued. “You will stay here and keep striking until sunset. You are behind, and I intend to correct that.”

His tone was still firm, but softer than the one he used for everyone else.

Elena swallowed and nodded once. She turned back to the dummy, planted her feet, and lifted the sword again. Behind her, cheers erupted as the first student rushed Rowan. Elena ignored them and swung. Then swung again. Then again.

Kael walked through the academy halls with his mouth set in a faint frown. Phoebe’s words followed him like a shadow he could not shake, repeating with every step he took. Choose, Kael Draven. Your heart or your crown. The road ahead is lined with blood, and hesitation feeds ruin. Make haste... or lose them both. For the first time in years, certainty had abandoned him.

He had always known what was expected of him. Train harder, rule wisely, choose strength, protect the pack. None of those choices had ever felt difficult before. Yet now, with one prophecy and one girl, everything seemed less certain than it had that morning.

The sharp sounds of wood striking wood echoed from somewhere beyond the courtyard. Swish. Swish. Clank. Kael slowed, then changed direction without fully meaning to. His feet carried him toward the training grounds while his thoughts remained elsewhere.

Evening light spilled across the open field when he reached the gate. Most students had already gone, leaving the grounds nearly empty beneath the fading sky. A lone figure remained before one of the battered practice dummies, swinging a sword again and again through obvious exhaustion.

Elena Hayes.

Black hair clung to her flushed face, and sweat darkened the collar of her uniform. Her arms trembled with effort, and her strikes lacked power, but each swing still landed with stubborn persistence. There was no audience left to impress, no teacher nearby to command her, yet she kept going.

Kael stayed where he was and watched in silence. This was not the timid girl who lowered her eyes and tried to disappear. This version of her was rough, frustrated, and quietly relentless. Something about it held his attention more than it should have.

His wolf stirred.

Only slightly, but enough to make Kael’s gaze sharpen. It was not the violent certainty he had felt around Elaine, nor the clean pull of a bond. It was smaller, stranger, and somehow more unsettling.

Elena raised the sword again, planted her feet poorly, and swung with what strength she had left. The blade glanced off the dummy and nearly slipped from her hands. Kael exhaled softly before stepping forward.

“Your form is wrong.”