Back in her flat, Emory plopped down on the couch, her head throbbing with a million thoughts. She loosened the ruffle on her hair and let her curls fall freely.

Kirsten sat down across from her. “Everything okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

She tried not to answer right away, instead riding out the storm in her head. Her eyes flickered up when she noticed Trey was there. He stood behind Kirsten with a glass of whisky in hand, and she wondered why he left Larc’s wake.

“Did something happen with Rodyn?” he asked quietly, in a tone that suggested he didn’t like her being with Rodyn.

“It’s not him” Just a lot swirling up here,” Emory finally said, gesturing vaguely to her head, before giving Kirsten a small smile of appreciation. “You got a good one there, Trey,” she said.

Putting a hand on Kirsten’s shoulder, Trey squeezed gently. Watching them stare at each other like that made her jealous. The look they shared, like they were one, made her think about what Rodyn had said about giving up on her mate. It felt like a steep price to pay to sacrifice a connection like theirs for peace.

“He said something, didn’t he? Rodyn?” Trey asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Emory waved away the concern, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s nothing. Any word on Aunt Kinshra?”

“She’s fine, just a little bruised,” Trey said, rounding the couch to her side. “Red, she is fine. That’s not something I’d lie about.”

“There’s something else going on, isn’t there?” She eyed him suspiciously. “It’d explain why you’re not at Larc’s wake.”

There was a pause before Trey spoke. “We’ve sent word to Lord Wulric about your request. But Lycan politics are a minefield. Once the message reaches the king, it’ll reach the regent and the council, and that is a problem. Our plan is to meet in the heart of the Davelriden Forest, using the Gammas to create distractions long enough for the meeting to happen.”

It started sinking in for Emory. Just getting a meeting, even a one-on-one with the Lycan King, took a lot of political manoeuvring. That was expected, but what was the deal with the council going against the king? Why couldn’t he put them in their place? And for the love of Aworyn, why did he need a regent? It was important to her that he told her all this.

“But why the Davelriden Forest?” Emory asked, her eyebrows knitted together with worry. The area was notorious, rumoured to be the stomping grounds of dragons long gone-a place even the bravest Lycans rarely went.

“It’s our safest shot,” Trey explained. “It’s off the council’s radar. The Hunters and I believe it’s our safest option to avoid unwanted attention. We’ll have the element of surprise on our side. Emory, I need you to understand how dangerous this is. The Morrian Council will go to any length to assassinate you and squash any possibility of peace. Is this really the only way you would consider marrying the king?”

Breathing deeply against the hammering in her ribcage, she tried to calm down. But she wasn’t going to change her mind. “I understand the consequences of this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s the only way. Meeting him is non-negotiable for me.”

Trey exhaled deeply, his brows furrowed with worry. “We’ll make sure you’re ready to leave at first light.”

“What about Aunt Kinshra?” she asked. “And Rodyn?” She glanced between them, waiting for an answer.

“I’m leading the charge,” Trey said. “Rodyn’s coming too—he seems” particularly concerned about your well-being. Kinshra, however, needs rest.”

Emory balked at the idea. “No way! Absolutely not! You’re not coming.”

It was important to keep the Chav’re Alpha hidden, because he not only held the key to the survival of the wolves, but he also held the key to the outcome of this war. If the Morrian Council found out he was out there too, they’d stop at nothing to get rid of him. It would be a devastating blow for the wolves if they succeed.

Trey’s light-hearted laugh couldn’t mask their serious conversation. He smoothed down the front of his emerald tunic. “Since when did you start ordering me around?”

She squared her shoulders. “I might be the only one who can,” Emory shot back. “The safety of our entire species depends on yours.”

“I don’t see the point in discussing this. There’s no way I’m sending you out there alone. It’s my job to protect you,” Trey said.

“And protecting you and our legacy is mine,” Emory countered.

“I’ll escort you myself, Emory. An Alpha protects his own. I am your Alpha, Emory. My decision is final!”

Emory advanced, her slight frame barely reaching his shoulders, but she met his gaze with a fire that rivalled the legends of their ancestors. While Trey stood like a giant, her own form was the result of years of hard, disciplined training. She wasn’t just lean; she was sculpted, her muscles honed from a decade of relentless conditioning. Her physique told the story of endurance, of countless hours pushing past limits most wouldn’t dare approach. She didn’t have the softness or fragility you might expect from a princess who has been sheltered her entire life. Instead, she radiated the toughness and resilience of a seasoned warrior, her body as much a weapon as her mind.

“You’re not just my brother; you are the last Ultima. As of yet, Trey, you don’t have an heir. Our entire legacy depends on you. It’s my job to make sure this legacy lives on, even if it means putting myself at risk,” Emory told him.

Their eyes locked, caught in a stalemate. “I’m escorting you, and that’s final. An Alpha protects his pack,” Trey asserted as he channelled his authority as Ultima that brooked no argument. But that didn’t work on her; it never did.

But Emory stood her ground. “No, Trey. We can’t risk losing you, the pack can’t. I won’t allow it,” she fired back. “I’m a warrior, trained for this. Remember?”

“Not against Lycans, Emory. They could kill you before you even shift!” Trey argued, his worry breaking through.

“Love, take it easy,” Kirsten said softly.

“That’s why the Hunter Wolves will be with me! And if it really comes down to it, I can tap into my Ultima power. I’ve got this, Trey. Not believing in me, that’s what really hurts,” Emory countered sharply. “You’re not coming, and that’s final.”

“Your stubbornness is a Chav’re trait, through and through.” Trey groaned. “Fine, but we’re doing it my way.”

Emory sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she dropped back into her seat. Kirsten’s laughter filled the room, a sound that was both light and knowing.

“You two really are cut from the same cloth,” she said. “It’s about time Trey found someone who could truly stand up to him.”

Trey, with a grin, moved to sit next to Kirsten. They shared a quiet kiss, their fingers entwining without effort. Kirsten’s sigh, full of contentment, was pure happiness. Her smile spreading in a way that lit up the room.

“Okay, lovebirds, maybe take this down a notch?” she suggested. Her tone was light but tipped with the desire for them to cut it out. The sight of Trey and Kirsten’s affection made Emory long for it. It reminded her of what she didn’t have, but deep down, she couldn’t deny the warmth that swelled within her, knowing that they had found happiness together.

They turned their attention to her, Trey’s normally vibrant green eyes clouded with worry. “How have you been coping with being back here?” he asked.

Emory shrugged, a half-smile playing on her lips. Her response was a typical blend of humour and evasion. “Let’s just say, it’s the first day in ages I haven’t started my day with a sprint through the woods. So, there’s that.” She pushed herself up. “I think I’ll wash up and hit the hay. Today has been a” long day.”

She trudged away from Trey and Kirsten, her energy fading with each step toward her room. She collapsed onto her bed, the dress she wore morphing into a cocoon around her. Curled up, she let out a long, weary sigh, allowing herself to let go of the facade she’d worn all day.

She was tired of pretending to be strong and unaffected. The loneliness she’d avoided finally caught up with her, and it felt like a weight on her chest, suffocating and relentless. Every breath she took echoed the pain in her heart, a constant reminder of the emptiness that consumed her. The absence of the mate connection left a hollow space inside her, a craving for a presence she’d never known but missed profoundly.

And suddenly, it clicked. The relentless training schedules, the endless runs through the woods—Aunt Kinshra’s routines were a distraction, a way to fill the void. Now, without them, the silence of the room was loud, and Emory felt the force of her loneliness more deeply than ever.