Devon led me along the quiet, winding path of the underground courtyard he had called the heart of Irving Island. It was a place I remembered vividly, burned into my mind from the first time I saw it. I remembered the massive tree with golden leaves in the centre. Pools of crystal-clear water surrounded it, now reflecting the full moon above like shards of silvered glass.

The scent here was different, lighter somehow, as if the burdens of the everything above ground couldn’t breach the sanctuary’s calm. Bioluminescent flowers bloomed along the cavern walls, casting ripples of blue and green glow onto the brook winding through the underground fortress. It was breathtakingly ethereal, like stepping into a dream.

We were alone, thankfully. Most of our guests remained at the estate, still caught up in the revelry. The thought of them drinking, laughing, and collapsing into the rooms prepared for them felt distant and unimportant right now. Here, it was just us, and the hum of the brook.

My steps slowed as I followed Devon to the brook. He turned to face me once we reached it.

And then, without planning to, the words tumbled out of me. “You knew my sister was once named successor.”

It wasn’t quite an accusation, but it was close. Devon’s face didn’t change, though his lips twitched a bit. He didn’t deny it, and that silence was enough.

“I just found out,” I continued. “And isn’t it suspicious? Camille mysteriously dies from the magic eater curse, and no one talks about it. Is that how the other successors died too? Don’t you think Loreleia is part of the cult?”

Devon exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped closer. His hands settled gently on my shoulders as his eyes stayed locked on mine. “I knew about Camille,” he said quietly. “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my truth to tell. That belonged to your parents.”

The quiet admission making my throat tighten. “So you knew Loreleia might’ve been involved,” I said.

“I suspect she is,” he replied. “But suspicion alone won’t convict the sovereign. Without proof, any accusation would only play into her hands. It would give Loreleia and her allies on the high council the ammunition they need to undermine the Irving house—and remove me as General.”

My chest tightened with annoyance. It was exhausting to think that everything had to be considered to avoid far-reaching consequences. The world of nobility was hectic; no one said exactly how they truly felt or think and I have always hated it. Just like with my family, every move had to be calculated, every remark measured, because the ripples could sweep far beyond us.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight as I fought to keep my frustration in check. “So we’re waiting for proof? How do we even begin to gather that when she’s surrounded by loyalists who’ll protect her at any cost?”

“We’re not waiting,” Devon said quietly, like he was sharing a dangerous secret. “We’re gathering what we need carefully, strategically, and quietly. Her spies can’t get wind of it, or we’ll lose any chance we have. We’re not just talking about Loreleia here. Each member of the high council and the great houses has their own agenda. Reforming the sovereignty is a war. And war takes time, especially when your enemies are willing to kill to keep their secrets.”

I nodded slowly. “Still,” I whispered. “You shouldn’t have kept me in the dark. You let me think I was the first successor outside the great houses. The entire council did.”

His hands slid from my shoulders, and his fingers wrapped gently around mine. “You weren’t ready for the truth about Camille or the burden of the role you’ve been given now,” he said. “The others were never officially recognized, so no one speaks of them, not even the kingmaker. The moment we told you, we would’ve been thrusting you into this fight. I needed you to be strong enough to bear it.”

The knot in my chest tightened, twisting painfully. My gaze dropped to the brook’s beautiful surface. “Do you think I’m strong enough now?” I asked softly.

His grip tightened, just slightly. “I know you are, C—il. You’ve already proven your strength, again and again. And now you have my strength and the strength of the Lycans to stand beside yours. Together, we’ll bring Loreleia and the others to their knees.”

His words stirred something fierce within me, but my heart ached all the same. I pulled my hands free, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I turned away, focusing on the brook instead of the storm of emotions crashing through me. Its surface was like glass, reflecting the faint blue glow of the cavern’s light.

“It’s not fair,” I whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “It’s not fair that Camille died for this. It’s not fair that Gaia is forcing me to walk the same path.”

I felt him step closer, his presence solid and warm at my back. “You’re not walking the same path,” he said. “I’m here, every step of the way. Camille’s fate was stolen from her. Yours is still yours to shape. And you’re stronger than you realize, C—il. Do you know how rare it is to have two successors from the same house in the same lifetime? It’s unfounded.”

Unfounded. That word echoed in my head, taking me back to my selection. One of the fellowship members used that exact term, with a piety I didn’t understand. I assumed it was because I wasn’t from one of the great houses. But now that I’ve understood things differently, I get it. Two sisters, chosen in a single lifetime was truly unfounded.

And Mother had known. Even though she hadn’t said it out loud, the look in her eyes, and the way she spoke about her intentions. I knew she expected me to be a successor.

I exhaled slowly, my breath unsteady. The reflection in the brook stared back at me, the weak light casting my features in sharp relief. The idea of Loreleia’s hand in a cult that killed successors and sowed fear across Wridel was suffocating.

“I’ll make her pay,” I said, the words spilling out before I even realized I’d spoken them. “Loreleia. The cult. Every single one of them who had a hand in what happened to Camille and the others. I won’t let them take anything else.”

Devon took my waist and turned me slowly to him. “You’d be joining a revolution that’s been brewing for centuries, C—il. It’s a war that’s put a target on everyone who’s tried to fight it, even me”

I looked up at him, my heart clenching with an emotion I couldn’t fully name.

“You’ve been fighting for so long,” I murmured. “For your pack. For Wridel. And now” for me.”

His hand reached for mine, his touch warm and sweet. “And I’ll keep fighting,” he said. “Until we win. Until you take the crown, and they finally understand there’s no fighting this.”

I swallowed hard, forcing the tightness in my throat down as I met his gaze. “What I’m trying to say is that I’ll fight for you, too. If they think they can oust you, they’ll have to get through me first.”

His lips curved into a small, warm smile, the kind that made his sharp features softer for just a moment. “You’ve been talking to your mother, haven’t you?”

“Well, she doesn’t exactly mince words,” I muttered, shaking my head. “She made it pretty clear how she feels about” everything. And about you.”

Devon chuckled, the booming sound curling around me like the warmth of a hearth. “Your mother is” a force of nature. Her disdain for me isn’t new. I know she blames me for not holding Loreleia accountable and for what happened to the other successors.” His voice shifted slightly. “Especially Camille.”

“Ah,” I said quietly, connecting the dots. “That’s where the hatred comes from.”

“It’s not hate,” he corrected, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “It’s respect buried under layers of irritation and frustration. As the most powerful fire oriental, even Loreleia knows better than to cross Saffron Le Torneau. Her influence keeps the witches united and they only follow her. If the Faes or Elves ever dared to start a war with the Orientals, they’d lose. And if the witches allied with us Lycans, Loreleia and her gang wouldn’t stand a chance. The only house that remains unpredictable is the Fangs.”

I tilted my head slightly, the gears in my mind turning. “The Fangs,” I repeated. “If we could sway them’”

“They wouldn’t pick a side outright,” Devon said, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “They follow power. They’ll only choose a side when they see who has the upper hand.”

“Then maybe we give them a reason to choose us.” I paused, taking a deep breath as an idea began to take shape. Thalion was the young lord of the Perseus house and he could be our in. “What about Kael? Is there a chance you could get him to meet with me?”

Devon tilted his head slightly, studying me with those storm-grey eyes that always seemed to see straight through me. “Kael?” he repeated, as though tasting the name on his tongue. “You want to meet with the Garythorn. That’s bold, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m serious,” I pressed, crossing my arms over my chest. “The Faes are divided, right? Garythorn made that pretty clear. If there’s even a chance Kael could be an ally’”

“He’s not one for alliances,” he cut in. “Kael’s loyalty is to himself and, occasionally, to his brother. That makes him unpredictable. Dangerous.”

“And valuable,” I countered. “Unpredictable means he doesn’t follow the rules the D—Quan house likely set for them. Dangerous means he’s capable of more than they expect. I need someone like that on my side.” Besides, if Kael and Thalion had a friendship, it was the fangs and Faes right there.

Devon let out a soft breath, his gaze sweeping over me as though assessing whether I truly grasped the enormity of what I was asking. Finally, he nodded. “I can reach out to him, but don’t expect miracles. Kael’s cooperation is something you barter for.”

“Then I’ll barter,” I said with a shrug. “Whatever it takes.”

His lips twitched in a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re more like your mother than you realize.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off, stepping closer until the space between us was almost non-existent. His hand brushed against my cheek, his touch warm against my skin.

“Let’s save the scheming for tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a lower, softer register. “I didn’t bring you here to talk strategy.”

I blinked up at him, my heart stuttering. Devon’s tone had softened, his gaze dark and intent, and it sent a flicker of heat spiralling through me.

“Oh?” I managed, barely a whisper.

His other hand rested against my hip. The faint scent of cedarwood and rain surrounded me, pulling me into his orbit. “No,” he said, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “I brought you here for something else.”

A shiver worked its way through me, my breath catching in my throat. “Is that so?” The words were soft, almost teasing, but the way my voice wavered gave me away.

His thumb brushed against my cheekbone, so light, so deliberate, as though he were memorizing the curve of my face. The way he touched me, it was impossible to reconcile the fierce, commanding Alpha with this man who held me as if I might shatter.

“You mean to tell me you don’t know?” he asked.

I swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat louder than the last. His lips hovered just above mine, the barest whisper of contact making me ache for more. “Tell me anyway,” I murmured.

The corner of his mouth tugged upward, the faintest smirk gracing his lips.

You truly aren’t capitalizing on your mind-bending as indecently as I’d hoped.

His words echoed in my mind, clear and smug, and dripping with mischief. I felt his amusement, not just in my thoughts but through the bond, a teasing ripple that drew an involuntary laugh from me.

“I heard that,” I whispered against his lips, my laugh soft and breathless.

Devon didn’t move away. If anything, his gaze darkened, the intensity in his stormy grey eyes pulling me under. Every muscle in my body tensed as he tilted his head, the smirk fading into something far more serious.

“But, if I must put it into words for you, mate,” he said, his voice dropping lower, rougher, making my breath hitch. “I intend to make love to you all night.”

The rawness in his tone, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in his world, sent a wave of heat washing over me. I met his gaze, searching his face, but there was no teasing now, no arrogance. Just Devon, stripped bare, offering me nothing but honesty.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My lips parted, but no sound came, my throat too tight, my heart racing too fast. My hands twitched, fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt, clinging to the only thing keeping me grounded.

“You’re so sure of yourself,” I managed finally.

His lips curved slightly, but it wasn’t the cocky grin I’d expected. It was softer, more intimate. “Only when it comes to you.”

His words fractured something inside me, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it before he leaned in again, his lips pressing against mine. This time, there was no hesitation, no teasing flicker of contact. The kiss was slow, deep, consuming in a way that left me breathless. His hand slipped from my face to cradle the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair, holding me like I was precious.

His other hand settled at my waist, pulling me closer until there was no distance left between us. Every part of me burned where we touched, and I felt the steady thrum of his energy against mine, weaving together like star crossed lovers.

The kiss deepened, and I let myself sink into it, into him, feeling the strength in his arms, the unspoken promise in his touch. And in that moment, there was no doubt, no fear, no hesitation.

Only him.

And I realized, with startling clarity, how much I wanted this. How much I wanted him.