The Lycan Prince’s Forgotten Mate

The Forgotten Mate

Chapter Ten —

Three days later, the palace prepared for war. Rival packs had refused to recognize Lucan's authority. Several Alphas had disappeared. Others had joined the enemy. The royal council demanded that Paris be hidden. Lucan refused. “She stays with me.”

“She is a target,” an elder argued.

“She is my mate.”

“She is also the reason they are coming.”

Lucan stood. “Then let them come.” Paris watched him from the doorway. He had never looked more like a king.

After the meeting, she found him alone. “You shouldn't have to fight everyone for me.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you?”

“Because you're worth fighting for.” Paris smiled. “You don't even know everything about me.”

“I know enough.” She looked at him. “I am difficult.”

“I noticed.”

“I get angry.”

“I noticed.”

“I overthink.”

“Frequently.”

She laughed. “And I don't trust easily.” Lucan took her hand.

“Then I'll earn it.” Their foreheads touched. For a moment, the war disappeared. Paris had spent her entire life believing she wasn't enough. Now she understood something. Being loved wasn't about becoming perfect. It was about being seen clearly and chosen anyway. Lucan kissed her forehead. “You don't have to become someone else for this kingdom.” “Then what do I become?” He smiled. “Whatever you choose.” Outside, the moon rose. Paris looked toward it. Her wolf stirred. The ancient power inside her no longer felt like a curse. It felt like a part of herself. She had spent twenty-two years believing she was the girl nobody chose. The abandoned daughter. The poor worker. The low-ranking wolf. The nobody. But she was beginning to understand the truth. Her worth had never been determined by rank. It had never depended on her mother's presence. It had never depended on money. And it certainly didn't depend on whether a kingdom recognized her. Paris was Paris. That was enough. A howl sounded in the distance. Lucan looked toward the horizon. “They're coming.” Paris stepped beside him. “Then let them come.” He looked at her. “You're not afraid?” She smiled. “I am.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“It means you're human.” Paris looked at him. “And you?” Lucan's smile was slow. “I'm your Lycan.” She laughed. Then the palace bells rang. War had begun. But this time, Paris would not run. She would not hide. She would not spend another night wondering whether she deserved to belong. She stood beneath the moon beside the man who had chosen her, her grandmother behind her, her mother beside her, and an entire kingdom waiting to discover what she truly was. The girl who had once been forgotten had finally remembered herself. And the world was about to learn her name. And this was only the beginning of the story Paris had never dared to dream, a story of love, betrayal, blood, courage, and a crown she had never known was waiting for her beneath the moon.

Paris looked at the moon and wondered how many versions of herself had existed before this night. There was the frightened child who had waited by the door for her mother. There was the exhausted young woman who counted coins for medicine and pretended that hunger did not matter. There was the girl who believed being unwanted meant being worthless. And now there was someone else. She was still afraid. She was still grieving. She still had questions that no prophecy could answer. But for the first time, those things did not make her feel weak. Lucan reached for her hand. Paris looked down at their joined fingers, then up at him. “I don't know what happens next,” she admitted. “Neither do I,” he said. A smile touched her lips. “That's a terrible thing for a future king to say.”

“Perhaps.”

The palace bells continued to ring around them, warning every pack that the old order was changing. Paris squeezed his hand. Whatever waited beyond those walls, she would face it. Not because she was destined to save a kingdom. Not because an ancient bloodline demanded it. Not because she was Lucan's mate. She would face it because she had finally learned the most important truth of all: her life belonged to her. And if the world wanted to take that choice away from her, it would have to fight for it. Paris lifted her face toward the moon. For the first time, she did not ask whether she belonged beneath it. She knew she did. She would