THE CROWNLESS KING'S REJECTED MATE

THE DAY I CHOSE NOT TO RUN

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the quiet.

It wasn't the peaceful kind. The Citadel never seemed capable of that. The iron braziers hissed somewhere beyond the bed curtains, their blue flames fighting the cold that slipped through the cracks in the ancient stone walls. Wind moved against the windows, making the heavy velvet drapes shift now and then.

For a while, I simply lay there.

I stared at the ceiling, trying to place the room.

Then I remembered.

The council chamber.

The shouting.

The golden light.

Lucian catching me when my legs gave out.

And before that—

The vision.

My stomach tightened.

I pushed myself upright, forgetting about my injuries until pain shot across my back.

A breath escaped me as I grabbed the sheets and waited for it to ease.

Apparently, whatever the healers had done hadn't made me indestructible.

I looked down at myself.

Fresh bandages covered my shoulders and ribs. Bruises spread across my arms, and faint red marks remained around my wrists from the strain of the power that had surged through me. Beneath the linen near my collarbone, something warm pulsed against my skin.

The Solar Crown.

I touched the bandage without thinking.

For eighteen years, I'd been told there was something wrong with me.

That I was weak.

Broken.

Less than everyone else.

Now I didn't know what frightened me more—the possibility that they had been wrong, or the possibility that the truth was far more complicated.

I pushed the thought away and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

Cold stone met my bare feet.

I waited for the room to spin.

It didn't.

Carefully, I stood.

My knees buckled almost immediately.

I caught the bedpost and stayed there until my balance returned.

"Brilliant," I muttered.

Ancient bloodline or not, I was still exhausted, bruised, and apparently terrible at taking it easy.

I made my way toward the mirror.

By the time I reached it, my breathing had grown shallow.

I looked at my reflection.

There was nothing frightening about the girl staring back at me. She looked eighteen. Too thin. Her dark hair was tangled from sleep, and the bruise along her jaw had faded to the ugly yellow edges of healing.

She looked tired.

Not powerful.

Not dangerous.

Just tired.

I pulled the bandage aside.

A faint golden glow moved beneath my skin.

The sigil was strangely beautiful.

That was the part I couldn't understand.

Something that had terrified the Council looked almost delicate against my skin.

I touched it.

"Who am I?"

My voice sounded smaller than I'd intended.

I looked away from the mirror.

For most of my life, I'd known exactly who I was supposed to be. The useless Omega. The wolf-less girl. The one who should be grateful for whatever scraps she was given.

Now everyone wanted me to believe I was something else.

Someone important.

Someone dangerous.

I wasn't sure I wanted either.

Power had never made me feel safe. The people who had it were usually the ones I had learned to fear.

That thought brought me back to the Grand Mating Ball.

The marble floor.

The chandeliers.

Victoria beside Jax.

The look on his face when he rejected me.

I had waited for some sign that he regretted it. A hesitation. A flicker of guilt.

There had been nothing.

For two years, I'd convinced myself that if I endured enough, loved him enough, proved myself useful enough, he would eventually see me differently.

He never did.

Strangely, remembering it now didn't hurt in quite the same way.

Maybe because I was finally seeing what I'd actually lost.

It wasn't Jax.

It was the part of me that had believed being chosen by him would make everything else bearable.

I rested my forehead against the mirror.

"I wasn't foolish for wanting to be loved," I whispered.

My throat tightened.

"I just shouldn't have had to suffer for it."

A soft click came from behind me.

I straightened.

The door opened, and Lucian walked in carrying a tray.

I blinked at him.

He wasn't dressed like a king this morning. No armor. No ceremonial cloak. No crown.

Just black trousers and a dark tunic, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms.

He looked almost ordinary.

Almost.

He placed the tray on the table beside the hearth.

Broth. Bread. Water.

Nothing elaborate.

I eyed it suspiciously.

"Is that poisoned?"

One eyebrow rose.

"If I wanted you dead, Aria, poisoning your breakfast would be unnecessarily complicated."

A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth.

I managed to stop it before it became obvious.

His gaze moved to my bare feet and then to the bed behind me.

"You shouldn't be standing."

The small smile disappeared.

"I've spent eighteen years being told where I should stand."

Lucian went quiet.

For a moment, I wondered if I'd pushed too far.

Instead, he gave a small nod.

"Fair."

I hadn't expected that.

He gestured toward the chair.

"Sit before your legs give up on you."

"I can walk."

"I know."

There was no irritation in his voice. No order. He was simply stating a fact.

That somehow made it harder to argue.

I sat.

Lucian took the chair across from me, leaving enough space between us that I didn't feel trapped.

He pushed the bowl toward me.

"Eat."

My stomach growled loudly.

I looked down at it in embarrassment.

When I glanced up, I caught him trying not to smile.

I gave him a warning look.

He wisely said nothing.

I picked up the spoon.

The broth was simple—salted meat, root vegetables, a little herb—but the first warm mouthful caught me off guard.

I hadn't realized how hungry I was.

I ate another spoonful.

Then another.

No one watched me.

No one counted the food.

No one waited for me to put the spoon down so they could tell me I'd taken more than I deserved.

The realization made my chest ache.

I kept my eyes on the bowl.

Lucian noticed.

He didn't say anything.

For some reason, that was easier to bear than sympathy.

I ate until the worst of my hunger had settled, then lowered the spoon.

"Why?"

He looked at me.

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

He leaned back slightly.

"I'm not certain I know."

That wasn't the answer I'd expected from him.

He glanced toward the fire.

"My beast recognized you before I understood what was happening."

I waited.

"That doesn't mean I understand it."

"You said I'm your mate."

"I believe you are."

"You believe?"

His eyes returned to mine.

"I've ruled for two centuries. I don't make decisions based on instinct alone."

I studied him.

For once, I appreciated the uncertainty in his answer. He wasn't pretending to know everything simply because he was a king.

"Then what do you know?"

"I know I found you dying in my territory."

His voice was quieter now.

"I know you were starving. I know someone branded you. And I know you expected me to hurt you."

I looked down.

"And I know," he added, "that whenever someone raises their voice at you, you brace yourself."

My fingers tightened around the spoon.

He had noticed.

I'd tried so hard to hide that.

"You watch everything," I said.

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because people lie."

His expression hardened slightly.

"Powerful people are usually the best at it."

I wondered what had taught him that.

There was something behind his words, something he wasn't offering to explain.

I didn't press.

Instead, he said, "I won't force the bond."

I looked up.

"What?"

"If you don't want me, you don't have to accept me."

My heart gave an uneasy beat.

"You'd let me leave?"

"Yes."

The answer came without hesitation.

"You wouldn't stop me?"

"I might object."

A surprised laugh escaped me.

It was small, but real.

"But I wouldn't imprison you."

The humor faded.

I looked down at my hands.

No one had ever said those words to me before.

Not without a condition.

Not without a threat hidden underneath.

"What if I leave and never come back?"

Lucian was quiet for a moment.

"Then I'll have to live with that."

There was no accusation in his voice.

No attempt to make me feel guilty.

That was what unsettled me most.

He stood.

"I need to inspect the eastern wall."

He started toward the door, then stopped.

"There's a dagger on the table."

I looked at it.

A small blade with a silver hilt lay beside the tray.

"I put it there."

My eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"So you understand something."

He turned to face me.

"You're not my prisoner."

I said nothing.

"You could use it against me. You could use it to threaten me. You could use it to try to escape."

His gaze stayed on mine.

"If you stay here, I want it to be because you decided to."

Then he left.

The door closed behind him.

I stared at the dagger.

For eighteen years, I'd imagined what it would feel like to escape.

Usually, there had been guards outside the door.

Or nowhere safe to go.

Or the certainty that Ravencrest would find me before I made it far.

This was different.

There were no chains.

No guards inside the room.

No one standing over me, waiting for an answer.

I picked up the dagger.

It was light and well balanced, easy enough to hold even with my injured hands.

For a moment, I considered the door.

Then I walked to the window.

The Iron Citadel stretched across the mountainside below, its dark towers rising from the stone as though they had grown there.

I could leave.

I could disappear into the Ashen Wilds and put as much distance between myself and everyone who had ever hurt me as possible.

But where would I go?

And what would I find there?

Running had always been something I'd done because I had no other choice.

Now I had one.

I could stay.

Not because Lucian ordered me to.

Not because some ancient bond demanded it.

Because there were things I needed to know.

I wanted answers about my mother.

About the Solar Crown.

About the power that had awakened inside me.

And, despite every reason I had to be careful, I wanted to understand Lucian.

Not the king everyone feared.

The man who had put a dagger in my room and walked away, trusting me to decide what I would do with it.

I looked at the blade one last time.

Then I returned it to the table.

The door opened.

Lucian stepped back inside.

His eyes went immediately to the dagger.

Then to me.

"You didn't run."

"No."

He studied my face.

"Why?"

I took a breath.

"Because you gave me a choice."

Something changed in his expression.

It wasn't satisfaction.

He didn't look as though he'd won anything.

If anything, he looked relieved.

Before either of us could say more, three enormous blasts shook the Citadel.

The sound rolled through the stone walls.

Lucian's expression changed at once.

Whatever softness had been there disappeared.

The king took its place.

He crossed the room and went straight to the window.

I followed.

"What is it?"

He didn't answer.

Below us, movement spread through the valley.

Riders were coming through the snow.

Dozens.

Then hundreds.

Silver armor flashed beneath the gray sky. Black horses pushed through the drifts, and Ravencrest banners snapped violently in the wind.

My stomach twisted.

A guard's voice rang from the ramparts.

"Ravencrest forces approaching the northern gate!"

I stopped breathing.

Jax.

Lucian looked at me.

"They're here."

I stared at the banners.

For eighteen years, those colors had meant home.

They had also meant obedience.

Punishment.

Humiliation.

I felt the familiar tremor begin in my hands.

For a second, I hated myself for it.

Then I let the feeling come.

I was afraid.

Of course I was.

Being afraid didn't mean I was weak. It only meant I remembered what Ravencrest had done to me.

I looked at the army below.

Then at Lucian.

Finally, my fingers touched the bandage covering the golden mark at my collarbone.

I had spent my whole life waiting for other people to decide what happened to me.

Not today.

Lucian had given me the freedom to leave.

I had chosen to stay.

And now Ravencrest was going to have to face the consequences of what they'd thrown away.