Roderic
The first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was the headache.
It split across my skull, evidence that I’d drunk more than I could handle last night.
My mouth tasted like stale wine, and the morning light pouring through the curtains hit my eyes like a punishment.
The second thing I felt was skin.
Warm, bare skin pressed against my chest.
I looked down and saw a woman lying curled against me, her face buried in the pillow, dark hair spilling across the sheets.
Her naked back rose and fell with slow, steady breaths.
My arm was draped around her waist, and my legs were tangled with hers.
For one disoriented moment, my chest swelled.
Lysara.
Then the memories from yesterday crashed into me.
The chapel, the vows, the ring I’d thrown across the floor, and the warmth in my chest went cold.
This woman on my bed wasn’t Lysara.
First, Sara had red hair.
I pulled back the sheet.
The mating gown lay crumpled on the floor beside the bed.
The silk sheets beneath her thighs were stained, faintly pink, and the scent clinging to her skin; the scent I had chased all night in the dark was already fading, dissolving into something unfamiliar beneath it.
My wolf stirred groggily, trying to understand what was wrong, but the fog in my head pushed it back down before it could surface fully.
As if on cue, the woman stirred and turned her face toward me, and the face that greeted me was the face from the chapel.
The Eldarion princess.
My wife.
Something flashed inside my chest.
“No.”
I threw myself backwards off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floor.
My hands were shaking, my skin crawled everywhere she had touched me, and the memories from the night before — blurred, fragmented, soaked in wine — rushed back in sickening flashes.
Her body beneath mine, her gasps in the dark, the name I had whispered against her skin.
I had thought she was Lysara.
I had held her like Lysara.
I had made love to her like she was the only woman in the world, and it had been Esmira.
It had been Esmira the entire time.
“What did you do to me?”
She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.
Her eyes were wide, red-rimmed, and terrified.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
My voice erupted through the chamber like a cannon blast.
I grabbed the nearest object, a brass candlestick from the bedside table, and hurled it across the room.
It struck the far wall and clattered to the floor.
She screamed; her eyes filled with horror.
She was afraid, but I couldn’t care less.
“You manipulated me!” I pointed at her, my hand trembling.
My wolf was rising now, feeding on the rage, pressing against the walls of the cage the Sorvanes had built around it.
I could feel it in my chest, a hot, snarling thing that wanted out.
“You scheming, conniving — you knew I was drunk. You planned this. Did your father put you up to it? Did the Sorvanes send you to my chambers smelling like her? Did you think that if you tricked me into your bed, I would suddenly forget what you people have done to me?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
She shook her head, but I didn’t want to see it.
All I saw was another move on a board I had never been allowed to control.
“You took Lysara from me. You forced me into this marriage, and now you steal my body too?” I laughed dryly.
“Is there no limit to what you people will take?”
“My lord, I didn’t—”
“Don’t speak to me.” My voice dropped low as I picked up my breeches from the floor and slipped into them.
“Don’t ever speak to me.”
At that moment, the chamber door opened without a knock, and Lord Aven entered, fully dressed, impeccable, as though it were any ordinary morning.
His pale eyes took in the scene, and he sighed.
“Your Majesty,” he said, closing the door behind him, “you are causing a scene.”
“Get out.”
“The servants can hear you from the corridor. I could hear you from the stairs.” He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Whatever grievance you have with your wife, I suggest you table it. The early morning assembly begins in less than an hour, and the lords of both kingdoms will expect their king to be composed and presentable.”
My jaw clenched so hard the muscle in my cheek twitched.
“She drugged me and lured me into—”
“She is your wife,” Lord Aven cut me off.
“And what happens between a husband and wife on their wedding night is neither unusual nor anyone’s concern. Unless you’d prefer I announce to the assembly that the Alpha King of Valdren cannot handle his wine?”
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
“You did this,” I said quietly.
“You got me drunk. You put her in my chambers and you—”
“I ensured the union was consummated,” he interrupted.
“As is tradition. As is the law. As is necessary for the legitimacy of this marriage in the eyes of both kingdoms.” He stepped closer, and his voice dropped into a quiet sneer only I could hear.
“Do not forget who placed that crown on your head, boy. I can remove it just as easily.”
The words hit me like a slap.
My nostrils flared, and for a single, terrible moment, my eyes went to the sword mounted on the wall behind him.
My wolf surged, howling for blood behind my ribs, and my fingers twitched.
He smirked when he noticed.
“You can kill me another day, Roderic. Prepare for the assembly,” he said smoothly.
“I’ll have your valet sent up.”
He left without waiting for a response.
I stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard, my chest heaving.
I forced my wolf down, the way I’d been forcing it down since I was sixteen, the way the Sorvanes had taught me to bury it with their herbs and their threats and their endless, suffocating control.
I didn’t look at her.
I couldn’t.
If I looked at her, I would say something I couldn’t take back, or worse.
I grabbed my discarded shirt from the floor, pulled it over my head, and walked out.
The corridor was mercifully empty.
I made it halfway to the west stairwell before a familiar voice caught me from behind.
“Roderic.”
I stopped and closed my eyes as my best friend, Caelan, put his hand around my shoulders, falling into step beside me.
His dark blond hair was tied back, and his grey eyes were already scanning my face as he read my silence.
“I came as soon as I heard the shouting,” he said.
“What happened?”
I kept walking.
My voice was low and bitter.
“They put Esmira in my bed last night. She was drenched in Lysara’s scent, and I was too drunk to know the difference.”
Caelan said nothing for a moment.
Then, quietly, “Aven.”
“Who else?”
We turned a corner, and I stopped, pressing my back against the wall.
I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling.
The fury was still there, but beneath it was exhaustion and a bone-deep weariness.
“I’m so tired, Caelan.” My voice broke.
“Every day it’s something new. Another chain, another humiliation. They killed my parents, they control my rule, they cage my wolf, and now they’ve married me to a woman from the family who had a hand in my parents’ death, and now they’ve stolen even this from me.” I pressed my palms against my eyes.
“What is left? What is there left for them to take?”
Caelan was silent until I lowered my hands.
Then he stepped forward, gripped my face between his palms, and held me.
“Listen to me.” He said firmly.
“I know it hurts. I know you’re tired, but now, more than ever, you cannot let your emotions control you.”
I tried to pull away, but he held firm.
“We are close, Roderic. Closer than we’ve ever been. The pieces are nearly in place. Harwick has turned. The western lords are ready to move. Within a year, maybe less, we will have what we need to dismantle every hold the Sorvanes have on this throne.” His dark eyes burned with quiet conviction.
“We will punish them for what they did to your family, we will break the chains on your wolf, and we will reclaim what is rightfully yours, but only if you hold together and play their game a little longer.”
I exhaled, and the tension in my shoulders loosened.
“I hate this,” I whispered.
“I know.” Caelan released me and stepped back.
“But you’re not the broken boy they think you are. You are their worst mistake. A king who remembers everything they’ve done and is patient enough to wait for the right moment to return it.”
I was quiet for a moment when, somewhere in the distance, a bell rang, the first call for morning assembly.
I straightened and adjusted my collar.
“Alright,” I said.
“I’ll go get dressed for the assembly.”
Caelan nodded, and we turned towards my chambers when a servant appeared at the end of the corridor, breathless, bowing hastily.
“Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion. I was sent from the Sanctum—”
My entire body went still.
“Lady Lysara,” the servant said.
“She’s awake.”