THE CROWN SHE NEVER WANTED

THE LYCAN PRINCE

Word of a coronation traveled faster than Elena expected, and by the third day of preparations, Veyr Hollow had swelled with faces she didn't recognize. Loyalist families who'd waited two decades for a bloodline to rally behind. Minor nobles hedging their bets. Merchants who smelled opportunity in a new throne and wanted to be first in line to court it.

And, apparently, a Lycan prince.

"Absolutely not," Aleth said, arms crossed, standing in the doorway of the small study where Elena had been trying, unsuccessfully, to memorize a list of noble houses and their allegiances. "He rides in unannounced with an honor guard of six and expects an audience the same afternoon. No."

"Who rides in unannounced," Elena asked, grateful for any excuse to abandon the list.

"Prince Ronan Valerius. Crown Prince of the Lycan Kingdom." Aleth said it like the words tasted unpleasant. "The Lycans have stayed neutral for thirty years. They didn't lift a finger when your mother's family was slaughtered, didn't lift a finger through two decades of the Alpha Council tearing itself apart. Now suddenly their prince wants to meet the new claimant to the Moon Throne in person, three days before her coronation."

"That sounds less like coincidence and more like strategy," Corwin said from his seat near the window.

"That's exactly what worries me," Aleth said.

Elena set down the noble house list. "I'll see him."

"Elena—"

"If the Lycans have been watching from a distance for thirty years and are suddenly interested now, I'd rather understand why than guess." She stood, smoothing down the deep blue dress the stronghold's seamstresses had made for her, one of several new dresses that still didn't feel like they belonged on her body. "Bring him to the receiving hall."

Aleth looked like she wanted to argue further, but something in Elena's tone must have convinced her it wasn't worth the fight. She left with a short nod, muttering something about doubling the guard.

The receiving hall at Veyr Hollow was smaller and plainer than Elena imagined a palace hall should be, all gray stone and old banners, but when Prince Ronan Valerius walked through its doors, he filled the space anyway, in a way that had nothing to do with size.

He was tall, dark haired, dressed in Lycan blacks with silver at the collar, and he moved like a man who'd never once questioned whether a room would make space for him. His honor guard fanned out behind him, but his eyes went straight to Elena and stayed there, assessing, unreadable.

"Prince Ronan," Elena said, before he could speak first. She'd decided that much on the walk down. She would not let this meeting start on his terms. "You've traveled a long way for someone the loyalist bloodline has never met."

Something flickered at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. "Elena Ashwood. Or should I already say Your Majesty."

"Not yet. I'm not crowned."

"No," he agreed. "But you will be. In three days, if the reports my scouts bring me are accurate." He studied her a moment longer, and Elena forced herself to hold his gaze instead of looking away first. "You're not what I expected."

"People keep telling me that. I'm never sure if it's meant as an insult."

"It isn't." Ronan inclined his head slightly, something almost like respect in the gesture. "I expected someone frightened. Someone leaning entirely on Corwin and the commander to tell her what to do and say. Instead you walked in here and put me on the defensive in under a minute."

"Should I apologize?"

"Please don't." That almost-smile again, sharper this time. "I've spent thirty years watching kingdoms wait for someone worth backing. I'd rather not waste the opportunity now that one's finally standing in front of me."

Elena crossed her arms. "That's a bold thing to say to someone you've known for one minute."

"I've known about you for considerably longer than one minute." Something shifted in his expression, careful now, deliberate. "The Lycan Kingdom has known Isolde's daughter survived for years, Elena. We simply didn't know where, and revealing what we knew before you were ready to claim it would have handed Selene exactly the information she needed to finish what she started twenty-two years ago."

The room went very still. Behind her, she heard Corwin's sharp inhale.

"You knew," Elena said slowly. "This whole time. You knew I existed and you said nothing."

"I said nothing to protect you," Ronan said, and there was no apology in it, only a flat, unflinching honesty that Elena found herself, despite everything, believing. "My father made the decision before he died. The Lycan Kingdom would watch, and wait, and say nothing, until the day you were strong enough and safe enough to claim what was yours without our involvement painting a target on your back before you'd even had the chance to stand."

"And now?"

"Now you're three days from a coronation that half the Alpha Council will try to prevent by force, and the Lycan Kingdom is done waiting quietly." Ronan took a single step closer, and Elena made herself hold her ground. "I'm offering you an alliance, Elena Ashwood. Lycan warriors to protect your coronation. Lycan resources to stabilize your throne once it's yours. And in exchange, an end to thirty years of pretending the Moon Throne and the Lycan Crown have nothing to offer each other."

"That's generous," Elena said carefully, "for a man who's known me for five minutes."

"I'm not offering it to the woman I've known for five minutes." Ronan's voice dropped, quieter now, and something in it made her chest tighten unexpectedly. "I'm offering it to the woman my father spent thirty years believing in, sight unseen, because he understood something about the Moon bloodline that most of these kingdoms forgot the moment your family fell. That the crown was never about power. It was about who deserved to be trusted with it."

Elena didn't have an answer ready for that. She glanced at Corwin, who gave her the smallest, almost imperceptible nod, and at Aleth, whose expression had gone from suspicious to something closer to calculating.

"I'll need to discuss terms," Elena said finally. "I'm not agreeing to anything three days before my coronation without understanding exactly what I'm agreeing to."

"Good," Ronan said, and this time the almost-smile became something real. "I'd trust you considerably less if you'd said yes immediately."

"Was that a test?"

"Everything is a test, Your Almost-Majesty. You'll learn that quickly enough once the crown is actually on your head." He inclined his head again, formal this time, retreat rather than dismissal. "I'll have my terms drawn up by morning. In the meantime, Commander Aleth, I imagine you'll want to inspect my honor guard yourself before allowing them anywhere near the coronation grounds."

Aleth's eyebrows rose slightly, clearly surprised he'd offered before being asked. "I would."

"Then I'll make it easy for you." Ronan turned to go, then paused at the door, glancing back at Elena one final time. "For what it's worth, Elena Ashwood. Whatever the Alpha who rejected you told you about your own strength, he was wrong. I'd stake the Lycan Kingdom's reputation on it."

He left before she could ask how he knew about Ryker at all, and Elena stood there in the receiving hall long after the doors closed behind him, unsettled by how much she wanted to believe every word he'd said.