THE LYCAN TSAR’S REJECTED CROWN

Rejected and Banished

POV: Bronislava "Slava" Ignatova

The iron doors of the grand hall hadn't slammed shut on me yet.

The air in the room was thick, suffocating, suspended in a horrific second of silence. I stood five feet from the base of the velvet-draped dais, frozen beneath the weight of Kirill’s harsh aura. My heart slammed against my ribs so violently it felt as though it would break. Hundreds of faces watched me with cruel anticipation.

Kirill stood at the wooden podium, broad shoulders squared beneath his dark-red tunic, looking every bit the Alpha he was born to be. His face was a mask of cold stone. Beside him, Yevgeniya stood delicately in her ivory gown, the faint shimmer of her silver wrist-charm pulsing in my peripheral vision and sending nausea through my gut.

He hasn't done it yet, my wolf whispered desperately. He hasn't said the words.

I gripped the hem of my thin, ash-stained linen dress, forcing my voice to break past the suffocating silence.

"Kirill..." The word tore from my throat. "Please. Look at me."

Kirill didn't look down. Instead, he gripped the edges of the oak podium, his knuckles turning pale. For a fraction of a second, his jaw tightened, a violent muscle twitch leaping along his neck. The hidden, invisible thread connecting our souls snapped taut, so sharp and painful that a low gasp escaped my lips.

The mate bond was screaming between us, a roar of heat and crushed pine trying to force its way through the unnatural haze in his eyes.

He felt it.

"Kirill, you know what we are," I pleaded, taking a trembling step forward. "You've felt by it for months. You know I'm not delusional. I'm your…"

"Silence!"

The word came from Lord Volkova Eva's father who stepped up from the council, his thick beard bristling with fury. "You dare interrupt the future Alpha on the night of his ascension?"

"Let her speak, Father," Eva interrupted softly, her voice smooth as silk. She glided closer to Kirill, resting her small hand over his white-knuckled grip on the podium, her fingers deliberately brushing the silver charm at her wrist. "It is better she hears the truth from Kirill’s own lips tonight, so she can move on from this tragic obsession."

The moment Eva touched his arm, the unnatural dark light rippled from the charm once more.

The subtle flicker of warmth in Kirill’s hazel eyes was instantly snuffed out like a candle submerged in ice water. His posture went completely rigid. He looked down at me, his expression so hollow it felt like looking at a stranger.

"You speak of bonds, Bronislava," Kirill said. His voice was devoid of emotion, booming across the rafters. "You speak of destiny as if the Moon Goddess would ever tie the future of the North Ridge to an Omega who cannot even shift."

Low laughter rippled through the pack. A searing heat of humiliation burned my skin.

"You are weak," Kirill continued. "Your lineage is dead. You have spent eighteen years scrubbing our floors, eating our scraps, and living off charity. Yet you had the audacity to believe you were meant to stand beside me on this throne."

"Kirill, no..." Tears broke free, tracing hot paths down my cold cheeks. "That’s not true..."

"I felt pity," Kirill lied, his voice cutting through my heart like a blade. "Nothing more. And tonight, I am putting an end to your pathetic fantasy."

He stepped out from behind the podium and lifted Eva's hand high into the air.

"I, Alpha Kirill Rostov of the North Ridge Pack," he announced, his voice carrying the heavy magic of a formal decree, "publicly, permanently, and irrevocably reject any claim, any thread, and any bond connecting me to Bronislava Ignatova."

Crack.

The invisible thread connecting my heart to his snapped with an agony so violent my knees buckled. I collapsed onto the stone floor, a strangled scream tearing from my chest as if a limb had been brutally severed from my body.

"I claim Yevgeniya Volkova as my true Luna," Kirill finished, not even glancing at me as I lay broken. "And I decree that Bronislava Ignatova is banished from our lands. She is to be stripped of her name, driven beyond the wards, and left to the taiga."

The hall erupted into thunderous applause.

Through the blur of tears, I looked toward the shadows near the back pillar. Matrena stood there, the woman who had raised me and promised to protect me. She wasn't weeping. A faint, terrifying smile played at the corner of her aged lips.

Two heavy hands grabbed my arms, dragging me roughly to my feet.

"Up, trash," an Alpha guard spat, shoving me toward the exit.

The guards threw open the oak doors, revealing the howling Siberian blizzard.

"Have a good life, Omega," the guard sneered, shoving me out into the snow.

I tumbled down the icy wooden steps, hitting the frozen ground. Behind me, the doors slammed shut with a heavy thud. The sub-zero wind slashed into my thin dress, instantly freezing the tears on my cheeks.

I'm going to freeze to death alone, I thought, clutching my chest as the broken bond bled internally.

I dragged myself onto my hands and knees, taking one shuddering step into the howling blackness of the Blood Forest.

Then, my foot caught on something buried in the snow.

I fell forward into the frozen drift. As I pushed myself up, my fingers brushed against something hard, metallic, and warm beneath the snow. I wiped the ice away.

Buried in the dirt was an ancient obsidian crest carved with a roaring wolf’s head. The moment my bloodied fingers touched it, the ground beneath me began to violently tremble.