Mira’s father is a short man, but fit, his muscles toned as if he takes the time to hone them through some type of workout. By the looks of his arms, he appears well-practiced with a bow.

  I wouldn’t put it past the head of the royals to use live werewolves for target practice. His daughter once showed me long ago just how excellent a shot she is.

  My knuckles are still busted from my outburst this morning. It was more like a meltdown, I’ll admit.

  In that moment, I revealed too much. I was lucky that no one was there to witness how my careful mask slipped this morning, how it all showed too easily just how broken I’ve been.

  How lost I have become without Mira.

  At least, I don’t think anyone saw.

  My second-in-command did ask why my knuckles were split when we set out this morning. The skin on them is torn open, revealing muscle and blood beneath, the edges of the wounds caked with dried blood.

  I destroyed my office this morning. The last time it happened, it was a library. Slowly, piece by piece, I’m falling apart. Soon, there will be nothing left of me.

  Despite this, I have redonned my mask for this meeting, and I keep my hands splayed before me, my wolf’s claws out in full force. The tips cast long shadows across my side of the table. The white side represents the wolves, as pearly as the full moon overhead and the gods that made us.

  “So,” I muse, the first to break the awkward silence, to slice through the tension, “Mira is a princess, and all that time we were growing up together, she never told me.”

  The trill of my voice seems to grind against this royal’s nerves because a shudder runs through him, starting at one shoulder and then traveling across his chest to the next shoulder. His ears even twitch in discomfort as he tries to shake off the sensation.

  I frown, studying him as one might study a science experiment. Of all the hellish realities I have experienced, this is by far the worst: drinks with Mira’s father.

  A glassy look settles over his face, like the cold, calculated stare of a reptile. He folds one hand over the other beside the amber glass of his half-empty liquor.

  “Who?” he asks stupidly, squaring his shoulders.

  Mira’s sisters and the other woman, whom I assume to be her mother, fidget nervously where they stand lined up behind Mira’s father. I glance at them, taken aback.

  “Have you forgotten her?” I ask breathlessly.

  Mira… she has haunted me all these days, all this time. No matter what I was going through, the ghost of my mate was the one constant in my life. To forget her would be my one wish.

  “My name is Marcus,” Mira’s father snaps, sitting at the edge of his seat. Then he leans across the table and swipes his glass, downing the whole thing in one gulp. His eyes are furious when he slams the glass back onto the dark surface of the table. “You think I could ever forget my daughter, Your Highness?” he hisses with so much venom that I blink at him.

  This is a whole different person from the one who initially sat down across from me at the table.

  He clears his throat as if he’s just caught his own mask slipping. Marcus straightens in the chair and leans back, but I can tell that it requires some effort for him to feign relaxation.

  My second-in-command and, lately, my only friend leans forward and whispers in my ear, “Smart move bringing her up. What are you trying to do, kill the guy?”

  I snort. “Shut up, Aurox.” I swat him away.

  My father had the two wolves of legend as nothing but glorified security guards, but if you ask me that was a waste of their talents and wisdom. I had to choose a second and a third when I became king, and they were my first and only choices.

  With legends flanking me, who would dare try my reign?

  Aurox’s brother, the dark wolf to his light, stands behind my other shoulder, opting to remain in his wolf form. He says it makes the royals nervous, and from the way the females are eyeing his hulking form, I can’t disagree.

  “There is a custom among the royals,” Marcus mutters, waving a dismissive hand drunkenly.

  We both went through two glasses easily during the time we refused to speak to each other, but humans don’t handle their liquor as well as we wolves do.

  And that’s just a fact.

  “After someone is banished and branded, we do not speak their names anymore,” the leader of the human royals, a.k.a. Mira’s father, says.

  I flinch. “Like she doesn’t exist.”

  “We didn’t come here to talk about Mira,” Marcus shoots back.

  I slam my fist on the table. “Thought you couldn’t say her name?” I bark.

  Marcus sucks in sharply and clenches his jaw. “Why did you call this meeting, Wolf King?” he spits.

  I glance up at the open sky. We sit at a black-and-white table in the middle of empty, barren land - the land that neither of us owns. The same land where the tavern stands, where Mira and I first formed our mate bond.

  The remnants of a storm linger in the otherwise clear sky. Night has fallen, but not too dark. The human royals would never meet us if it were too late in the night.

  They’re skittish that way.

  As I crane my head and peer upward instead of at my companions in this foolish meeting, I wonder, as I often do, if Mira is somewhere in the human lands, looking at the same sky, watching the same storm build.

  I doubt it.

  She is a world away.

  There are supposed to be gods up there, but all I see is the storm. I’ve been in it for so long now that I wonder if it is all I will ever know, too. If it’s all there is for me.

  “I came here to tell you that we have pups that are starving-”

  Marcus scoffs. “And how is that supposed to be my problem? You don’t help us feed our young. Feed your own pups,” he orders like he’s the king of the fucking world.

  Gods, if he weren’t Mira’s dad, I would have laid him out long ago. But maybe I should lay him out because he is her father.

  I grit my teeth. “We could feed them if you weren’t cutting off our access to arms and gold. We have borders that are unsecured, attacked by other supernatural creatures wanting access into Paradigm. As I’ve tried to convey in my reports, this is a problem for all of us, not just the packs of the Den.”

  I open my mouth to continue, but Marcus is already fixing me with that look that tells me he could care less. I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. The crown on my head has never felt so heavy as it does right now.

  “You know that we rely on you for certain things, that we can’t trade with the humans without you,” I remark tiredly, if not matter-of-factly. “So tell me.” Then my tone changes, warps into something harsher, more unforgiving. Angrier. “Why are you doing this?”

  Marcus does not answer. Not right away. Mira’s sisters, her other family members, their guards, all stare at their feet, clearly uncomfortable. The sky seems to visibly darken overhead, but we have all lived in the kingdom of Paradigm long enough to be used to it by now.

  The first bolt of lightning streaks through the sky as if it’s racing straight for Marcus. He smiles as it reverberates, a cry echoed in the thunder that follows. It’s deafening, but not as shocking as Marcus’s grin. A knowing, wicked smile curls his lips.

  But still, he doesn’t answer. We have had so many meetings set up between alphas. We have sent countless messengers. We have tried to approach things through peaceful negotiations. But it is the same damn thing every single time, the same frustrating, infuriating nonanswers. And it has gone on too long, so now I am finally here in person.

  The wolf king in all his glory.

  “Why are you doing this?” I roar, slamming both of my closed fists against the wooden table.

  I said I redonned the mask for this meeting. I never claimed it didn’t have cracks in it now.

  The symbolic table creaks beneath the weight of my hand. Anytime the royals and werewolves have had any sort of meeting in the past, it has always been at this table.

  Now, crazed over my mate, I might be the one to break it in two.

  Marcus’s eyes flash to mine, so much like his daughter’s, the eyes I once stared into for long hours. Rain tears apart clouds to fall down upon our heads, and finally, Marcus speaks. Now, he sees fit to give an answer to his cruelty.

  “You took my daughter, Aurelian,” he whispers.

  I snarl and leap from my chair. I jab a finger at him. “It is you!” I roar, my words nearly incomprehensible.

  Marcus and I exchange a startled look. I don’t even need to finish the sentence. He knows what I mean to say. It is you who took her from me.

  It’s about to happen again. I’m going to have another slip-up. They’ve been getting more frequent, and only my second understands the extent of how strenuous my control has become. Aurox is suddenly there, yanking me back like he always does, but it doesn’t matter. The meeting is over. Nothing was accomplished, no negotiations opened, and now Marcus and the rest of the royals are retreating, far away from the mad animal of a wolf king.

  And soon, Aurox will no longer be able to pull me back from the edge I am so dangerously close to, the one my wolf is ready to leap over.

  “Open up the trade routes! Open up negotiations!” I scream incoherently at his back, but Marcus never pauses. He doesn’t even spare me a glance over his shoulder. He just leaves, his gait easy and unhurried, as if he knows we won’t go after him.

  The storm chases them, the lightning skipping around the sky. I stand there, chest heaving, Aurox’s hand still the only thing holding me back. Then my shoulders slump. Rain seeps down my face and onto my chin, soaking my lips and making me sputter through it. It’s so much, all at once, that I feel like I am drowning.

  I have felt like this for a while, if I am being honest.

  I tear free of Aurox’s hold violently, the storm shrouding me in darkness and shadow. My hand shoots out like a whip to swipe the bottle of liquor off the center of the table. I tip it up, the contents splashing into my mouth. It must be over half the bottle that I chug before tossing it aside, the glass shattering against the ground to my right. A million shards are caught up in the storm’s slashing winds.

  Her face is in my head, her eyes staring back at me like they did that day when she seemed not to recognize me anymore. Mira.

  I flip the table over, sending it flying into the air. It topples a few times, lifted slightly by the winds. Generations have sat at that table. I feel like destroying it is perhaps more symbolic than I intend at this moment, but it is too late now to take any of my actions at this meeting back.

  The table splinters against a tree and breaks into two pieces, and only then do I realize how much force I hurled it with.

  My last words to my mate’s father seem to sprout a life of their own and chase after him. The words linger in the air between us. “Then it will be war, Marcus!”

  My roar echoes, even despite the storm. My dominance pours out of me, affecting the werewolves I brought with me, but doing nothing but raising the hairs on the humans’ necks.

  Then Aurox urges me back, snapping me out of it. He is always the one to pull us back from the edge of the rage that threatens to consume me and even his brother sometimes. All werewolves, really, struggle with a temper.

  Especially if they have been through what we have endured in our lives.

  The ground is slippery, and my bare feet slide in the mud created by the chaotic storm, but I let Aurox lead me back. Eventually, I shift and run the rest of the way home with him and his brother. They give me space after it becomes obvious to them that I am not going to go back and let my wolf rip Marcus’s head from his shoulders.

  The run gives me time to think, to cool down. My words to Marcus were not just an empty threat. War between the royals and the packs of the Den has been on the horizon for a while. Now I see no other option but to reclaim our rights from the royals.

  My wolf’s paws are better for navigating the uneven terrain of no man’s land and for traveling between levels. As I make my way through each pack, I think of our history with the royals, how they have always acted out of fear of the werewolves, their innate belief that we are animals to be dealt with as such.

  Now they’ve effectively taken control of all vital functions of the kingdom of Paradigm, and I believe it is all to control the packs of the Den and werewolf-kind, to leash us like pets for their own devices.

  There are other things, things that only I know as king, but I’m not prepared to share those with my men just yet. This is the third-largest storm of the year, and it seems like each one keeps getting worse, as if the gods themselves are angry and sending these monsoons and hurricanes to warn us.

  Namely, they are not pleased with us here in the kingdom of Paradigm. They’re about to get even angrier once this war is in full effect.

  By the time we make it to the top level - my level - thoughts of Mira have interrupted my war plans just as they usually interrupt everything else. I am so glad that I got her out of Paradigm, no matter how painful it was. She would’ve been a target, and now, with the war about to start in full force, I wouldn’t want anyone I love anywhere near it.

  The two legendary wolves have been keeping their distance this entire run, but now they flank me on either side, standing so close that I can scent them. It is shocking how similar the scents of brothers are.

  Aurox gives me a look as if to say, “And where do you think you are going?”

  I curse internally. I forgot to shift before I got here. There is a sacred spot built for wolves that have lost their mates. Whether it was through death or other means, the spot is a safe place, said to be blessed by the gods - a place where werewolves come to mourn the loved ones they can no longer spend time with.

  My wolf always goes to the spot whenever he can. He climbs up on the silver slab shaped like a ramp-like miniature mountain that reaches for the moon. And then my wolf howls, loud and keening, the same way each and every time.

  When I get to the slab, many wolves are already there. They scurry away.

  “The wolf king has returned from his meeting!” they murmur among themselves.

  My guards snarl at anyone who lingers too long, but for the most part, everyone is smart enough to get lost. My wolf prowls to the stone, sniffing it. He tortures himself by recalling the memory of her scent, and I suffer alongside him. He also conjures Mira’s face in his mind, and sometimes he imagines what our pups would look like.

  When he finally pads up to the slab of silver, the clouds above seem to part to let the full moon through. My wolf’s eyes sometimes glow red like an alpha’s, sometimes golden for my bloodline and royalty. But right now, it’s a little bit of both.

  A tear leaks from my wolf’s eye. Mate, he roars inside my chest, acting like he wants to shred the world apart just to get her back.

  He would burn it all to nothing if it meant having his mate back.

  Mate. I had a mate, a partner to share this burden of life with, and now I have lost her forever. My wolf opens his massive jaws and howls at the moon, stretching his snout up to the endless night sky.

  And now I will have to go through this war alone, with half of my heart missing from my chest.

  When my wolf is finished, he hangs his head for a moment. There’s a snarl behind me, followed by a snort, and the dark wolf saunters off to the edge. Aurox shifts and comes over to me, laying a hand on my wolf’s side. He doesn’t look at me; he looks at the moon.

  “Your Highness,” he says eventually, a bit reluctantly. “If I may?”

  My wolf dips his head in permission as lightning dances across the sky like the electric footsteps of one of the gods.

  “You have to let Mira go,” Aurox says firmly.

  My wolf’s head snaps to him, my eyes flashing with outrage just hearing her name. “Who says I haven’t let her go?”

  Aurox glances around at where we are, at the first place I insisted on going when we came home. He grimaces. “I know you think no one heard you this morning before we left…” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

  I freeze. My meltdown. I open my mouth and shut it. My wolf kneads the ground restlessly, his paws scraping and scratching. The tips of his ears twitch.

  “Your heartbreak over your mate might be causing you to destroy the castle, but holding onto Mira? That is destroying you,” my second says.

  My wolf starts to shake his head back and forth in denial, but something about the expression in his eyes, which I can see reflected in my second’s, is manic. Unhinged.

  Aurox’s eyes soften. “You know that it is for the best, brother. That it is for her own good. And that change…” He tilts his head to the side. “Change is good.”

  For a long time, my wolf looks at Aurox and considers eating him just to get him to stop saying her name. But then I take control, letting the shift ripple over my body. I stretch from a crouch, still on the slab of lost mates, and watch the storm for a second, observing as it rules over the sky and fights for the moon’s attention.

  Then I crumple - not just physically, falling to the ground with my knees curled against my chest. Aurox starts, looking around to make sure we are still alone, that none of my subjects are nearby to see their king losing it.

  I clutch my head with both hands, rocking back and forth. Crumpling, inside and out. Aurox positions himself so that even if someone did come, they wouldn’t see.

  And quietly, privately… I fall apart.

  “I thought I was doing what was best for her. I thought I could handle the pain. But… I know,” I breathe finally, so quietly I’m not sure if he heard me at first. But Aurox glances over at me. “I know I have to let her go,” I say, shaking my head in defeat. “But I just wish…” The rasp of my voice breaks off. “I just wish I could know that she is safe.”

  Neither of us says anything for a breath or two. Aurox nods as if he understands. The rain is cold, I’m sure, but I can’t feel its frost.

  Aurox hesitates before finally mustering enough courage to spit it out, “What if…” He breaks off and glances over his shoulder at his brother’s waiting figure mere yards away. “What if I could give you my word that Mira was safe, alive, and well?” He says each word deliberately, fixing me with a steady look.

 

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