As Emory stood there, clutching the oversized jacket rough against her skin and slightly damp from the morning dew, she wondered how Kane could possibly know Seraphine. He approached her with a smile that softened the stern contours of his face, and those bright brown eyes, flickered over her.

“That is a” most unconventional garment,” he said, his gaze lingering on the jacket with mild bemusement.

She returned the smile, her own easing the stiffness in her shoulders. “I lost my clothes when I shifted,” she explained, her gaze now sweeping over his intimidating form—his broad shoulders outlined against the sunlight he was now blocking. “How do you know the regent?”

As Kane moved beside her, she caught the sound of a squadron approaching—footsteps soft but rapid, the rustle of their gear barely audible. Their scent was a cold, sharp tang of unfamiliarity that could only mean one thing—dragons. Trying to figure out what her unique hunter ability was, she knew she had to go back to Kedar, to Kinshra.

“Regent, huh?” Kane asked. “Why would the leader of the Shadow Sec be masquerading as a Lycan regent, Sera? What are you plotting now?”

She spun sharply to face Kane. “So you do know her?” she said. And if that was the case, it had to be before his long slumber. Given the long-extinct status of dragons, Seraphine could not be a Lycan, she had to be something else.

Seraphine stiffened, her posture defensive, but somehow remained poised. “Lord Odreil,” she said, with a slight bow. Black hair tumbled over her shoulder as she did. “This is unexpected. I wonder what unwitting creature wandered into your lair. Why are you here, so close to Eleado”?”

But Kane brushed her question aside, instead focusing on Emory. “Are you alright?” he asked, scanning her face for signs of discomfort.

“Yes, I know her,” he admitted after she didn’t say anything to him, “but not in the way you might think. Sera and I have crossed paths under less” conventional circumstances. She’s never what she claims to be; she’s part of a much larger game—one that’s been playing out for far longer than you can imagine.”

So who was Seraphine? She needed to know who she was and what she wanted from her. And why did he call her Sera like they were close? She was suddenly interested in the “less conventional circumstances” he mentioned, but she shook it off: it wasn’t important right now.

He reached out, his fingers gently brushing Emory’s arm, drawing her focus back to him. The warmth of his touch spread up her arm. “I felt it—the shift in your essence when you transformed. You’re tied to me, and your pain was” excruciating.” His touch was reassuring, and for a moment, Emory leaned into the comforting scent of pine and earth that clung to him.

“Tied to you?” Seraphine whispered from across the clearing, looking confused. With suspicion, her eyes darted between Emory and Kane. “Your Imperial Highness, if I may be so bold, how do you know Lady Chav’re?”

There was something interesting about how Seraphine maintained her respect for Kane, while it was the exact opposite for Rahl. Observing her quietly, Emory noticed her breath catching in anticipation of Kane’s reply.

Then he said, “I suppose you lost your touch to such an extent that you can’t recognize Lady Chav’re as mine.”

Seraphine’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Emory, her lips forming a thin line. As she stepped forward, the soft crunch of dry leaves punctuated her approach. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But Lord Odreil, surely you understand the precariousness of this situation? I exist to make sure things like this do not happen.”

“Yet, here we are, Sera.” Kane growled. “You’d be better off leaving my mate out of your schemes. Should you harm her, I will rid the universe of you and your worthless Sector.”

“Lady Chav’re, you never cease to amaze me,” she said with a frazzled laugh. “Lord Odreil, there are fraying alliances that hinge on her, Aworyn’s Last Hunter. To tether her to you in a mate bond goes against everything.”

She watched the exchange, trying to piece together their vague conversation. Her gaze drifted from Kane to Seraphine, trying to figure out what was being said.

“I don’t understand what you mean by sector,” she said to him.

He looked back at Emory, his eyes softening. Keeping his voice low, he said, “What Seraphine fails to mention is that she’s not from this world. She resides at the helm of an ancient sector known as the Shadow Sect, a group of mystical beings who have long opposed the union of species like dragons and Lycans. They subtly manipulate events to prevent any alliance or peace between our kinds. And Sera possesses the ability to influence minds and sow discord.”

Ah, that was it! Now she knew how Seraphine knew about Rahl’s secret and how she could control him. How come Kane didn’t seem affected by that” and her?

The dragons stepped out of the forest, a mighty group of twenty that quickly coordinated themselves behind Kane, bowing deeply in unison.

“Imperial Highness,” they chorused, then raised their heads. Their eyes landed on Emory with unmistakable hostility. She turned sharply away from their piercing gazes, facing Seraphine, who had begun to retreat cautiously.

Emory’s throat tightened as she remembered Rahl’s warnings about elder dragons - what did he call them? The crimson fire? She couldn’t quite remember, but Rahl’s descriptions suggested that these might be the elders, although their youthful human forms belied their true age.

“Whatever game you’re playing, Sera, it ends now. Do not force my hand. We both know I won’t hold back,” Kane said, moving his arm gracefully behind his back in a gesture that matched Rahl’s poise. The subtle movement reminded her of Kane’s own royal lineage, commanding a fiercely powerful and hostile race that went to war against the gods once.

Seraphine smirked. “Lord Odreil, given what I know now, this has to end one way. And this game?” Her eyes glinted with malice as she gazed at Emory. “It’s only begun. I hope you are ready for what comes when we meet again, Lady Chav’re.”

With a malicious laugh, Seraphine vanished in a cloud of red fog. The exit wasn’t so much a retreat as a foreboding pause in the rivalry.

“Are you okay?” Kane was worried again.

“You shouldn’t have told her about” you know,” she said, turning to face Kane.

Considering that the purpose of this shadow sector was to prevent interbreeding between species, her reluctance to accept their mate bond was rational. Their union could potentially unleash chaos throughout the Empire, and she didn’t want that. Wasn’t that also what the elder dragons stood against?

“Your Imperial Highness, why does this wolf address you so casually?” one of the dragons, his bright brown eyes catching the sunlight with a menacing gleam, demanded sharply.

Turning to face them, she noted the militant precision of the fifteen dragons arrayed behind Kane. They stood like statues, their posture rigid, hands positioned in a disciplined formality that spoke of centuries of martial tradition. Closer, the relaxed stance of the five dragons, who seemed less perturbed by her presence, was a dead giveaway. They were undoubtedly the elder dragons Rahl had mentioned.

“There’s nothing I hate more than being referred to as’”

“Silence, you insolent pup!” Another elder dragon interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

Emory squinted at the offending dragon, a spike of anger piercing her initial restraint. She turned to Kane, her gaze fiery, searching for any sign of defence or support. His eyes dimmed with resignation, as if he wasn’t going to intervene.

“You will defend me in front of Sera, but not your kind?” She shook her head.

He raised an angry eyebrow at her. “That is not’” He faltered, a note of hesitation slipping into his voice. “There are rules. If I disregard them for you, I must be willing to do the same for everyone else. That’s the way of the dragon,” he said.

“I will get out of your hair then, Lord Odreil. Would not want to be an inconvenience!” she retorted, her bare feet crunching softly on the leaf-strewn forest floor as she turned to leave.

“You cannot leave alone, Emory. I cannot let you leave, especially not with Sera still out there,” Kane called after her.

She stopped and spun around to confront him. “I’m sorry, let me? Kane, I’m not yours to command.” She heard a sigh escape him.

“Your Imperial Highness, if I may’” began one of the elder dragons.

“Enough, Qeilri,” Kane cut the elder off with a sharp gaze. “Wolf or not, this beautifully furious woman is my mate. She alone has the privilege to address me so casually because I am hers.” His voice softened as he turned to Emory. “And as for you, the truth is, only I have the right to command you, just as only you have that right over me. But for the sake of peace, could you hold back your fire in the presence of the Crimson Wing? Just while they’re present?”

Her lips curled into a reluctant smile as her earlier frustration wore off. “Was that so hard to say?”

“You have no idea,” he muttered, extending his hand. She took it, the warmth of his grip strengthening their bond as he held her against him.

“Lord Odreil, we have begun to reclaim our province. We have sent delegations across the Empire as you have instructed,” reported another dragon, his posture stiff with formality. His gaze shifted to Emory, acknowledging her with a reluctant nod. “Lady Chav’re.”

“I don’t suppose you are the same Chav’re the hunter wolves have been scouring Davelriden for, are you?” Qeilri asked, with a deep frown on his face.

“I” I am?” she said, not sure how to address him. Especially because his face looked perpetually angry.

“What happened to you? Was Sera holding you captive?” Kane asked.

“No,” she murmured quietly. “I believe that was Lord Wulric’s doing. We got trapped in a cave or a lair” and I lost two days.”

The dragons exchanged glances, murmuring in a dialect foreign to her ears. Kane joined the elders for a heated discussion, leaving Emory feeling more isolated than ever as she waited. Like statues, the other dragons remained immovable.

“You’ve been in the Fractured Chasm?” Kane finally turned back to her as he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know what it’s called. Sera referred to it as the chasm of time or something like that. The place looked like an ancient stone court with no exit.”

“And where is this place?” he pressed.

“It’s not nearby, if that’s what you mean. A few miles down that way,” she pointed vaguely down the trail the Lycans had brought her through.

“Then what were you doing out here with Sera?” His tone was curious but cautious.

“Is there a reason for all these questions” mate?” she asked. She wasn’t sure how to address him—Lord Odreil felt too distant; Your Highness, too formal. His lips curled into a small, appreciative smile at her choice of words.

“Qeilri, take the first Ravagers and head back to Qaelasyn Province. The rest of the regiment and the Crimson Five, come with me,” Kane commanded as he, once again, braced his arm behind his back.

“Your Imperial Highness,” they all responded in unison and quickly divided into two groups. Emory watched as Qeilri led ten of the fifteen warriors back the way they had come. The rest of the regiment and the other four elders gathered closer to Kane as he approached her again.

“The Fractured Chasm is sacred to the dragons. But after the war with the gods, the doorway became unpredictable, shifting and morphing through time and space,” he explained. “It’s not just a physical location; it’s a rift, susceptible to the whims of ancient magic. Although we used to find it easily, that ability has faded. If we can locate it again, we can secure it and restore the balance.”

She furrowed her brow. “But that doesn’t make sense. Rahl said dragons could always find it effortlessly.”

“That was true, once. But things have changed. Now, it’s crucial we find and reclaim it to prevent further chaos.” Kane sighed, a look of frustration passing over his face

But why did they need to find it? Taking a breath, she rubbed her forehead. Right now, she needed something as simple as clothes that fit, some shoes, and a moment of peace—away from all the burdens and responsibilities. Maybe a bath too.

“Do you think you can find your way back?” Kane’s question jolted her back to reality.

Her abilities as a hunter wolf had enhanced her senses to an extraordinary degree. Since awakening, she could visualize paths and trails with uncanny accuracy. Thinking about the route Seraphine had led her through, she realized she could easily find her way back.

“I can,” she said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Will you lead the way then?” Kane asked.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do, Lord Odreil,” she replied with a touch of irony as she turned to guide them back towards the path. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she noticed Kane had moved to walk beside her.

“I am curious. What is your connection to the Lycan King?” he inquired, his voice lowering to a murmur. “You refer to him by his first name.”

Caught off-guard by his question, Emory’s steps faltered slightly. She paused, turning to face him. After a brief hesitation, she replied, “Rahl and I have’” She trailed off, then took a deep breath, “There’s something important I need to tell you about him.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of concern—or perhaps jealousy—crossing his face. “Is he the one you are have to mate with, according to the prophecy you mentioned?”

“No, it’s not like that,” she quickly replied, eager to dispel any misconceptions. As soon as those words left her mouth, she realised it was exactly that. “Actually, yes.”

She saw his jaw clench, his muscles tense, and the ire simmering in his eyes. “You walked away from our bond for a Wulric?”

The accusation stung, but she took a step closer, hoping to clear up the misunderstanding, even though it sounded like he was more upset about it being a Wulric. “It wasn’t an easy choice. There are obligations and duties that I cannot ignore.”

As if searching for answers somewhere in the depths of the forest, he looked away. “And where does that leave us?” he asked.

Emory reached out, her fingers brushing his arm in a fragile gesture of reconciliation, but he pulled away gently.

“I suppose I already got my answer. You did walk away from me,” he said, his voice colder now, resigned. “Let’s continue.”

Watching him walk away, Emory took a deep breath and clutched her jacket tighter. As she followed behind them, she listened to the silence, the crunching leaves underfoot, and could feel her anxiety rising with each step.