The Rebel Prince’s Claimed Mate

Lily’s POV I fixed my eyes on the polished stone floor, counting the faint cracks between the tiles the way I always did when fear clawed at my ribs. Looking up meeting any of their gazes was the same as begging for death. I was only human. Weak. Breakable. A servant in the royal palace of Wolf Hollow, property of the shifter monarchy that ruled these shadowed lands. My shoulders twitched with an involuntary shiver. A rough laugh scraped the air above me. “What’s wrong, little mouse? Afraid of wolves?” Heavy boots stopped inches from mine. Hot breath, laced with sour ale, washed over my face as one of the guards leaned in far too close. Callum. I hated the way my body reacted another shudder I couldn’t hide. His lips peeled back from too-sharp teeth. “Damn, Callum. Even the human won’t have you,” another guard jeered from behind him. Laughter rippled through the hallway like breaking glass. I braced myself, every muscle locked. Callum’s arm moved faster than I could track; his open palm cracked across my cheek with a sound like splitting wood. Pain exploded white behind my eyes. My head snapped sideways, blood flooding my mouth. The guards howled with amusement while I fought to stay upright, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t cry out and give them more. Straighten. Breathe. Don’t let them see. I forced my spine rigid, tucked my chin to my chest, and tasted copper. Fingers like iron clamped my jaw and wrenched my face upward. Callum’s yellow-flecked eyes bored into me, daring me to flinch again. I kept my stare glued to his boots. “You’ll learn not to pull away from me, pet,” he growled, voice gravel and smoke. A helpless sound slipped out of me; his smile widened, predatory and pleased. His thumb brushed my split lip, smearing the blood. I wanted to scrub my skin raw. “Callum! Move it the King wants our report,” one of the others barked. He released me slowly, deliberately dragging a single finger down the side of my throat before stepping back. His gaze crawled over me, stripping, measuring. “Count the hours, little lamb. We’re not finished.” The moment his footsteps faded, my knees nearly buckled. A gentle hand closed around my wrist. “Lily, come on. Huntingtons will be here any minute. We have to finish the guest wing.” Amara’s voice was low, urgent, and kind. She’d become the only bright spot in this endless night since the raiders dragged me here a year ago. I swiped at the tears and blood on my face, managed the ghost of a smile, and let her tug me down the corridor. We hurried along carpets the color of deep twilight. For a moment my mind drifted, desperate for escape, pretended the weave was ocean waves beneath my bare feet. I could almost smell salt instead of stone and wax. “Lily!” Amara yanked my arm, snapping me back. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the floor. She dipped into a curtsy so low her forehead nearly brushed the carpet. I turned and the world tilted. King Alaric and Queen Isolde Huntington were bearing down on us like twin storms. Regal, terrible, beautiful. Their cloaks were the same rich violet as the banners overhead, the silver crest of Wolf Hollow a snarling wolf’s head ringed by four diamonds and bound in an endless knotwork blazed across the King’s broad chest. My mouth went dry. My feet forgot how to move. The Queen’s gaze flicked to me first, soft with something that might have been concerning. The King’s face was carved from granite, power rolling off him in waves that made the air feel too thin. “Lily!” Amara hissed again through clenched teeth. But I couldn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. I stood frozen, staring straight into the Alpha King’s face like a fool begging to be put down. Amber flared in his irises. A growl rumbled from his chest, low enough to rattle my bones. “You dare meet my eyes, human?” His voice was quiet, which somehow made it worse. I tried I swear I tried to lower my gaze, to bare my throat, to do anything that might convince him I wasn’t issuing a challenge. My body refused to obey. Something stirred behind my ribs, fluttering against my ribs like frantic wings trying to break free. A terrified whine escaped me. Queen Isolde glided forward, careful not to touch her mate while his wolf was this close to the surface. “My love,” she murmured, calm and musical, “she means no offense. She’s only human overwhelmed by your presence, as we all are. Let’s not be delayed on our first day home. Your people are eager for your return.” The King’s glare lingered on me another heartbeat, sharp enough to cut. Then he seized the Queen’s elbow possessive, not gentle and steered her past me. They swept by without another glance. The royal guards trailed them; several threw me looks ranging from pity to amusement. A bony hand clamped my upper arm hard enough to bruise. “Stupid girl,” an older woman spat. Her gray-streaked chestnut hair was pulled back so tightly her eyebrows looked surprised. “Keep that up and you won’t last the week now that His Majesty is in residence.” She released me with a disgusted huff and marched off, skirts snapping. I sagged, hand pressed to my roiling stomach. Amara rounded on me the instant we were alone. “Are you trying to die? You stared down the Alpha King of Wolf Hollow!” “I I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, fingers drifting to the strange ache in my chest. “It was like… like something glued my eyes to his. I couldn’t move.” She blew out a breath, worry and exasperation warring on her face. “Goddess save me from suicidal friends. Come on. We’ve got twelve guest rooms to turn out before sundown, and if even one pillow is crooked, they’ll take it out on both of us.” I nodded numbly and followed her, the phantom weight of the King’s stare still burning between my shoulder blades and that odd fluttering beneath my sternum refused to settle.