The palace corridors hummed with whispers, shadows shifting beneath the flickering torchlight. Every servant, warrior, and concubine knew of the council's decree. And every whisper carried the same note of fear and anger: another wife. Another reminder that even the Alpha was bound by others' designs.
Kael Draven strode through the inner hall, cloak brushing marble floors, wolf thrumming beneath his skin. Each step echoed his irritation, a rhythm of power restrained only by centuries of discipline. His guards followed closely, eyes sweeping the corridors, sensing the tension like electricity in the air.
Riven's voice broke the heavy silence. "The palace is restless. Every hallway, every room… they murmur of the decree. Even the elders are uneasy."
Kael's amber eyes narrowed. "Then perhaps they will finally see that their control has limits." His wolf stirred in agreement, muscles coiling under skin. Limits. Everything has limits—even me.
In the east wing, Lyria moved quietly, carrying fresh linens. She had heard the news, of course. Every whisper, every tip of a head toward the council chamber, told her the story. She should have felt relief that Kael had another choice—but the opposite clenched her stomach in tension.
Her pulse quickened whenever she imagined him with the new wife. It was wrong. Forbidden. Dangerous. And yet… she could not ignore the strange pull she had felt the night he first noticed her in the gardens.
Something is coming. I can feel it, she thought. I cannot explain it, but it is not yet time. Not for me, not for him.
Meanwhile, Isolde moved through the palace with deliberate grace. Every step, every tilt of her head, was calculated. She was aware of every pair of eyes that followed her, every servant that noted her presence. She smiled politely to concubines who dared cross her path, nodded to guards who watched her warily, and all the while, her mind plotted.
Her father's words echoed in her head:
"Kael Draven may be stubborn, but he will bend. Use what he cannot see, and the rest will follow."
She did not doubt it. The Alpha was strong, yes—but he was also human, frustrated, and bound by a curse. That made him predictable in ways most would not admit.
Her first meeting with him alone would come tonight, she decided. Alone, behind closed doors, where words carried weight and actions were not public.
Kael, in his private study, paced. The moonlight cut across the floor, silver and cold, but it did not soothe the fire in his chest. Twenty wives. Twenty concubines. And now another… chosen for him.
He threw a hand across the desk, nearly sending a stack of parchments flying. Riven's calm presence, as always, grounded him.
"Alpha," Riven said quietly, "anger is natural. But do not let it cloud your vision. She is new. She is… another piece in a game you have yet to see in full."
Kael exhaled slowly, amber eyes glinting with danger. "Then I will watch. I will see the moves before the players even know them."
His wolf growled low, restless, tugging at his instincts. Something shifted in the palace tonight—a movement unseen, a presence hidden—and his senses prickled. He did not recognize it. He did not name it. But he felt it.
And he would not ignore it.
That evening, Lyria lingered in the moonlit gardens, carefully avoiding patrols. She paused by the fountain, letting the cool stone calm her racing pulse. She was not supposed to think of him. She was not supposed to hope.
And yet, when Kael appeared on the balcony above, amber eyes scanning the horizon, she felt the pull again—subtle, persistent, impossible to ignore.
He did not see her. Or at least, he did not acknowledge her. Yet even in the shadows, she knew he sensed something.
A presence.
A disturbance.
And neither of them could yet name it.
Lingering Suspense:
Inside the palace, plots were forming.
Elders whispered to one another, concubines measured their moves, and Isolde prepared her first private encounter with the Alpha.
The wolf inside Kael stirred. The unseen eyes in the palace shifted.
And somewhere, the threads of fate began to weave a story that no one—neither Alpha, maiden, nor schemer—could yet control.