Chapter 4: The Traitor’s Game
1218 Words
Aelira’s POV
The council chamber smelled of ash and wolvesweat. Packed with snarling egos and polished lies. I stood still beside Kaelen’s towering frame, trying not to show how tight my chest felt under their stares. The torches flickered along the stone walls, casting dancing shadows on the snarling wolf sigils above.
“My lords,” my father’s voice rang out, smooth as a lie. “The matter is urgent. Her presence—her magic—is destabilizing the pack. We’ve seen the signs. The full moon rises and already warriors report hallucinations, trembling in their bones. This is not a coincidence. This is corruption.”
A murmur of agreement rolled through the Elders like a low growl. I didn’t move. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Kaelen didn’t even glance at me. “You will not speak of my mate like she’s a disease, Lord Thorne.” His voice dropped into something dark, slow, deliberate. “Unless you’re ready to back your words with steel.”
My father chuckled, hand pressed to his chest like a dramatist. “I speak only as the protector of the pack. You, Alpha Nightthorn, are allowing your... feelings to cloud your judgment.”
“My feelings?” Kaelen finally turned, narrowing his eyes at the man who gave me life and sold me like cattle. “I’m not the one trading daughters for political gain.”
“You dare—”
“Enough,” snapped Elder Maerin, her robes heavy with gold-threaded authority. “This council is not for airing old grudges. We speak of safety. Magic corrupts. That is our law. The girl has power none of us understand.”
“I’m standing right here,” I said flatly. “And I’m not a girl. I’m your Luna.”
Silence dropped like an axe.
My father’s jaw twitched. “Words do not make you Luna. Blood does. And hers is tainted.”
Before I could speak again, Kaelen stepped forward. “Her blood is stronger than any in this room. She’s more wolf than half these pampered Elders pretending they’ve ever spilled it on the battlefield.”
I felt heat rise in my throat—not embarrassment. Fury. Because he defended me, but never looked me in the eye. Like he couldn’t trust what he’d see there.
“You speak with such certainty, Alpha,” said Maerin, her eyes sharp like ice. “Yet your brother Dorian warns us otherwise. He says the witch—”
“She has a name,” Kaelen snapped.
“—Aelira, then—casts spells at night. That the mate bond itself may be a manipulation. That she seduced you into—”
I strode forward, cutting her off. “If I wanted to seduce him, you’d all be howling from the pain of it.”
The room froze. Then Kaelen laughed—short, low, dangerous.
“You heard her,” he said, almost amused. “Try her. Push her. See what happens.”
“Is that a threat?” Maerin asked.
“No,” I said. “It’s a promise.”
---
We stormed out after the vote was postponed—Kaelen seething, fists clenched. I didn’t speak as we crossed the courtyard, but he broke the silence once the doors of the war chamber slammed shut.
“Why the hell did you speak like that in front of them?”
“Because I’m tired of pretending I’m not dangerous,” I spat. “And because your precious brother Dorian is feeding them lies.”
His jaw tensed. “You don’t know that.”
“Oh, I do. He was there that night in the hollow woods, wasn’t he? Watching. Waiting. Always nearby but never close enough to fight.”
Kaelen turned to me, nostrils flaring. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re stirring chaos. You’re goading me in front of the Elders. That’s not strength. That’s recklessness.”
I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat off his chest. “And what are you doing, Kaelen? Playing noble protector while plotting to use me?”
His lips parted. “You don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me. I know about the Moonfire rituals. About your scouts searching the old ruins. You want my power. You don’t want me.”
He looked at me then. Really looked. “I never wanted a mate.”
“Good,” I whispered. “Because I never asked to be yours.”
Something cracked between us. A thread stretched tight, snapping under the weight of too many truths unsaid.
“You think I’m your enemy,” he said low.
“I think you’re afraid,” I said, voice trembling. “Afraid that if you care about me, I’ll die. Or worse—make you care enough to destroy yourself.”
He moved faster than breath—gripping my wrists, and pressing me back against the stone pillar. Not hard. Not cruel. But close. Too close.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he growled. “What I’ve lost.”
“Then tell me,” I whispered. “Let me in.”
He leaned forward, lips brushing my ear. “If I let you in, Aelira, you won’t come back out whole.”
“I’m not whole now.”
We stood like that, breathing each other’s fury, desire tangled with something more painful. The bond between us pulsed—demanding, cruel.
His hand loosened around my wrist. I didn’t move. Neither did he.
Then the door burst open.
Elysia.
Her cloak billowed like storm clouds, her hair wild, silver eyes flashing.
“You need to see this,” she said, holding a scroll tied in dark thread.
Kaelen turned, his body shielding me instinctively. “How did you get past the guards?”
“I trained half of them,” she said dryly, handing him the letter.
I stepped beside him. “What is it?”
He read. Stilled. Then passed it to me.
My eyes scanned the parchment.
To His Majesty, the Warlock King.
The witch and the wolf grow too close. The bond is deepening. The girl must be broken before the eclipse. My brother is blind to his ruin. We proceed as planned.
—D
My hands shook.
Dorian.
Kaelen’s brother. My father's ally.
“There's more,” Elysia said, voice grim. “I intercepted a courier headed for the Frostvale Border. Reinforcements. Black-robed spellweavers. They’re preparing to breach through the old blood gates.”
Kaelen’s voice was hoarse. “My own brother... and your father.”
“They want us separated,” I whispered. “They want to kill us.”
“No,” Kaelen said. “They want control.”
“And they’ll burn the realm to get it,” Elysia added.
I folded the letter, hands trembling.
The torchlight flickered on Kaelen’s face. Rage. Hurt. Betrayal. All carved in the harsh lines of his jaw.
He looked at me like something in him broke loose.
“We have to act,” he said.
“Together,” I replied.
He nodded, barely.
But as I turned to leave, scroll in hand, the ink shifted beneath my fingers.
Magic.
I read it again. The words burned hotter, twisting.
They want us both dead... or worse—broken forever.
- Writer
