Emory stepped through the portal and into the eerily quiet Davelriden Forest. The air was cool here, filled with the sharp smell of fallen leaves and the earthy scent of damp under brush. Each step she took on the mossy floor was silent, her movements almost ghostly as she moved through the giant trees. The light that managed to sneak through the thick canopy stretched long, spooky shadows across her path, making the forest feel like a world away from Kane’s warm, safe lair.

She stopped short, catching her breath as the reality of leaving hit her hard. The emptiness was suffocating, a cold shock compared to the warmth she’d gotten used to by Kane’s side. The few hours she spent with him felt like a lifetime. Her heart ached with a fresh wave of longing, each heartbeat reminding her of the distance she’d put between them.

By Aworyn, what was she doing? She’d always wanted a mate to fill the void in her soul, and yet, here she was, walking away from him. Was she cursed to always ignore what she wanted? But then again, it wasn’t really her fault. Why did the gods pair her with a dragon? What could they possibly expect from such a pairing? The tears finally overcame her restraint, spilling freely, and she leaned against a nearby tree to catch her breath. Emory’s body shook with sobs, her chest heaving with each breath. Leaving Kane was turning out to be way harder than she’d thought.

“Focus, Emory,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head to chase away the rising despair. She needed to find the hunter wolves so they could return to Kedar. That bloody Lord Wulric had been a complete waste of time.

She sighed and wiped her face dry, her thoughts drifting to the Lycan king. How could he not meet her when she had made it clear that it was the only condition under which she would consider mating with him during the Hunter’s Moon? It was downright insulting. Wolf or not, she was a Chav’re, and she wouldn’t let him disrespect her like that. Not when she had another option—being with her mate, who just happened to be the king of dragons.

Swallowing hard, she wondered if she could ever reveal this secret. In the Empire of Morrian, a wolf mating with a dragon was unheard of” not to mention that dragons were not extinct and could shift too.

As she moved deeper into the forest, the natural sounds around her grew—the distant call of a bird, the rustle of small creatures in the under brush, the soft whisper of wind through the leaves.

Her pace quickened, driven by a growing sense of urgency. What if the Lycans had already killed most of the hunter wolves who were here because of her?

Suddenly, the quiet of the forest was shattered by a low growl. Emory froze, her senses razor-sharp as she reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh. Her eyes scanned the shadows, hunting for the source of the noise. Her heart pounded against her ribs, adrenaline surging through her veins.

she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. As she did, a scent filled the air—a wild, earthy smell that she knew belonged to a Lycan. He was close, just up the hill from where she stood. Slowly, she lifted her head and saw him, half-hidden in the shadows, watching her intently.

Amid the flickering lights and dark shadows, his eyes caught hers. They were a deep, midnight blue, so intense and mysterious that she found herself holding her breath.

He didn’t seem threatening, which relaxed her a little. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how his physique was outlined under his black royal coat, which was lavishly embellished with small golden gems that glittered slightly in the light. His posture was relaxed yet powerful, and he exuded a strong, charismatic aura that was both thrilling and a bit scary. She knew in an instant—it had to be Lord Wulric.

“There you are,” he spoke suddenly, his voice booming through the quiet like a clap of thunder. It was a deep, rich sound that somehow seemed both commanding and enticing.

With a smooth, agile movement, he jumped down from the hill and landed right in front of her. Emory instinctively stepped back. His presence was unnerving, stirring anxiety and an odd, magnetic pull within her. It was a similar feeling to when she first met Kane—he’d said the exact same words to her.

Wulric stepped closer, his movements graceful and dignified, setting him apart from the more rough-hewn Lycan warriors she had met before. Now right in front of her, he towered over her, his frame domineering. His gaze pierced through to her core, leaving her feeling both bare and vulnerable. Squinting slightly, he regarded her with curiosity, one hand poised casually behind his back.

“You’re Lord Wulric,” she said.

His lips curled into a knowing smile. “Indeed, I am, Lady Chav’re. I must say you have caused quite the stir.”

“A stir?” she repeated, her eyebrow arching septically. “Is that how you describe your Lycan sentinels hunting me when this should have been a discreet meeting?”

His smile widened, revealing a flawless row of teeth. “But I am here, am I not?”

Emory eyed him, her instincts screaming caution. “Not without causing chaos. It seems to come naturally to your kind.”

“You forget your place, wolf. You’re standing before your king’” Lord Wulric began, his voice booming with authority.

She scoffed involuntarily, resisting the overwhelming presence of the Lycan king. His compulsion to command obedience was powerful; it pressed against all who were of Lycan or wolf descent. None could normally resist his command, his very presence compelling them to submit. Only the Ultima wolves, the Chav—res, had the strength to withstand such force. But even she felt the urge to bow her head and avert her eyes, questioning why, if he wielded such control, could he not tame his own council?

“You are not my king,” she asserted firmly. And if she were being honest, she already had a king, and a mate.

“Hmm,” Wulric responded, his expression unreadable as he circled her slowly. “I’m curious how you managed to wander this deep into the Davelriden Forest. No wolf or Lycan usually makes it past the middle ground.” His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. “You do know the legends about these woods, don’t you?”

“Why have you agreed to this union? To mate with a wolf?” she cut through his musings. “And don’t bother lying to me.”

“Is that all you wish to know?” he scoffed, his tone dismissive. “Is that why you’ve risked so many lives to meet me here, today?”

Her words were sharp as she slid her dagger back into its sheath, her movement smooth and practised. “Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours,” she replied.

His gaze lingered on her, measuring, as if deciding how much truth she warranted. “I must say, it’s unsettling dealing with a Chav’re who has no reputation. I know nothing about you, which makes it difficult to make any assumptions. Though, it’s not every day a Chav’re stands so boldly before a Lycan lord and scoffs in my face.”

Emory resisted the urge to scoff again at his words. “My reputation shouldn’t matter, although I find that statement utterly incorrect. The Chav’re are known for standing boldly against you. What matters here is your answer.”

He chuckled softly, the sound almost melodic. “Very well. I agreed to this union because it benefits my people. Our alliance could bring peace—or at least a ceasefire—between our kinds, and it is long overdue.”

Her eyes narrowed, analysing every word. “And what do you gain personally from it?”

“Power,” he admitted candidly, his honesty surprising her. “An alliance with a Chav’re wolf is not just strategic; it’s prestigious. It strengthens my position within the Lycan hierarchy. You’re one of the last two Ultima.”

Emory considered this, but her gut told her there was more to it. “And you believe this will stop the bloodshed?”

“It’s a start,” Wulric responded. “A significant one. The hostilities have lasted too long, and they drain both our resources and spirits. The Empire, the humans, they deserve more from us.”

“And yet here I find myself, hunted in these woods by your sentinels,” Emory pointed out. “How can I trust your commitment to peace?”

He paused, his expression hardening as he mulled over her words. “I am sure you’re aware of the resistance from my regent and the council. There are elements I cannot control” until this union is sealed.”

“So there is more at stake here than you’ve admitted. What do you really stand to gain from fulfilling this prophecy, Wulric?” Emory pressed.

He shook his head, a lock of short hair falling across his brow. “I cannot reveal all yet. Not now, not without knowing if you will stand by this prophecy come Sunday.”

Emory smiled thinly, her arms crossing over her chest as she took a step forward, closing the space between them just slightly. “I won’t bind my fate to yours without the entire truth. Tell it or not, it’s your choice, but that is my condition.”

“Your presence in these woods is answer enough, Chav’re. Seeing you here, ready to confront me regardless of the dangers, reassures me that you are serious about this alliance because you too want peace,” he countered with a note of flattery.

Emory’s scepticism flickered, but didn’t fade. “And if I had turned back?”

“Then we might both be reconsidering our options right now,” he replied with a slight shrug, his eyes never leaving hers.

Watching him, Emory felt a grudging respect for his honesty. Yet, doubts lingered. The alliance held promise, but was fraught with uncertainties and the threat of betrayal. And though she found Wulric more appealing than she’d expected—undeniably handsome, even—it complicated things. Why didn’t he already have a mate? Aligning herself with him meant a lifetime of political games and unrest. Was she ready for that? Beyond the politics, her thoughts kept returning to her mate, a concern she couldn’t shake off.

Wulric extended his hand to her. “Shall we continue this discussion on more neutral grounds?” he suggested, nodding towards a path that led to a less dense part of the forest.

“This is dragon haven; it’s as neutral as it gets,” Emory countered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed his suggestion.

“You don’t trust me,” Wulric observed.

“A wise decision considering I hardly know you,” she retorted, her arms remaining folded as she maintained her defensive stance.

“I suppose I have my work cut out for me, then?” he mused aloud, his face breaking into a half-smile. “The only solution is to find a way to earn your trust. It all starts at the hem, doesn’t it? Just as Aworyn wants. A Wulric mating with a Chav’re. But I won’t indulge your questions out in the open like this.”

His caution made sense; it was possible others could be listening if they stayed within earshot. Emory glanced down the path he had gestured towards, then back at him, her expression cautious yet curious.

“Where does that lead?” she asked.

“An old cave. It has a rich history that I’ll share as we walk,” he responded, stepping aside to clear the path when it became clear she wouldn’t take his offered hand.

Reluctantly, Emory followed him, her senses sharpened for any sign of deceit or danger. The path was narrow and overgrown, a clear indication that it wasn’t frequently travelled. The leaves rustled under their feet, and the further they walked from the main area of the forest, the quieter it became—except for the occasional crack of a branch or the distant call of a bird.

As they approached the cave, Wulric began to speak, his voice low. “This cave was once a meeting place for treaties between different species. It’s said that significant pacts were made here, ones that shaped the history of our lands.”

Emory listened while her eyes continuously scanned their surroundings. The mouth of the cave was dark and inviting, and she felt a chill that wasn’t solely from the cool air emanating from within. It reminded her of Kane’s lair, at least the first time in it, not what it transformed into.

“History seems to be repeating itself, then,” she remarked dryly, her guard still up as they reached the entrance.

Wulric nodded, acknowledging her point with a grimace. “Indeed, history does love its cycles. But let’s hope this time, the outcome will be different.”

“Which pact do you speak of anyway? The only recorded treaty was between the dragons and the gods,” Emory mused aloud as they stepped into the shadowy interior of the cave.

“It is how this place came to be known as the dragon haven,” Wulric explained, taking the lead as the cave’s darkness swallowed them.

She followed silently, her senses heightening as the pungent scent of sulphur and ash filled her nostrils—a smell unmistakably similar to that of Kane’s lair. She paused, a flicker of concern crossing her face. If what Kane had told her was true, they shouldn’t be able to stumble into any dragon’s lair this easily.

“Is there a problem?” Wulric turned to face her, noticing her hesitation.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts, her eyes narrowing slightly in the darkness. “This place” it reeks of dragons. If this is a haven, why does it feel like we’re intruding?”

Wulric’s face remained impassive, but there was a brief flash of something—perhaps surprise or concern—in his eyes before he managed to mask it. “This cave has been deserted for ages. Any residual scents are merely echoes of the past. But you’re right, this was once a sanctuary created under that ancient pact. It’s neutral ground, or at least, it was intended to be.”

There was something dishonest about Wulric, like he knew more than he wasn’t sharing. She stepped deeper into the cave, the cool, damp air brushing against her skin as her eyes adjusted to the low light. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, forming eerie shadows that danced along the walls.

“Then let’s keep moving,” Emory said, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

“How do you know anything about dragon lairs and their scent?” Wulric asked with a very suspicious tone.

“I could ask you the same,” Emory countered with a smile, her gaze fixed on his blue eyes that twinkled mysteriously in the darkness.

He straightened slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.

“We’re deep enough now, and you should really start talking,” she insisted, sensing a flicker of vulnerability in Wulric.

“You forget, Emory, that I am the king of the Lycans, and despite your resistance, you cannot speak to me in that manner.” His voice grew deeper as he moved closer, his large frame casting a more menacing shadow.

She could almost taste the rage pouring from him, an almost visible presence in the confined space. But she met his gaze without flinching, unaffected by his piercing blue eyes that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

“What puzzles me, Lord Wulric, is why a king would need a regent. Have you lost so much power that you’re now just a figurehead?” She paused, her words sharp. “And by the way, I’d prefer if you didn’t call me Emory. We’re not exactly friends, are we?”

Only Kane could say her name in a way that made her shiver with desire. Hearing Wulric use it felt all kinds of wrong.

“You have no respect for me as king?” he said in disbelief.

“That’s because you haven’t shown yourself to be the fearless king who deserves my respect, Lord Wulric.” Emory frowned. “Hearing that your own regent and ministers—people you appointed—tried to assassinate your supposed mate is hardly kingly.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that did little to lighten the mood. “You speak boldly for someone in such a precarious position. Should I admire your bravery, question your knowing, or worry for your foolishness?”

“Admire, question, or worry—it changes nothing. My stance remains the same. Show me a king worthy of his crown, and you’ll have my respect.”

Wulric’s smile faded as he considered Emory’s words. “Very well, Chav’re. Perhaps this discussion does warrant a show of good faith.”

Then, he turned his back to her, a clear sign he was ending the conversation. “Let me be clear, my authority is bound by tradition and the goddess. But with you as a mate and the wolves as allies, we could change so much,” Wulric said. “But since my queen demands a show, I will give her one.”

With those words, he walked deeper into the cave, his steps echoing off the stone walls, leaving Emory standing alone, her anger boiling at his bold claim that she was already his queen.

“I don’t know what this is supposed to mean,” she shouted after him, her voice echoing back to her in the vast emptiness. When he didn’t reply, she realized she’d have to continue on her own.