Caelan
The summons arrives with dawn. A young priest in white robes appears at my chamber door while I am still pulling on my boots, his face pale and serious. "High Priest Lirien requests your presence at the Moon Temple immediately, Your Majesty. He says it cannot wait."
I look at Marcus, who spent the night on the couch in my sitting room after we finished questioning the servant boy. "Did we get anything else from him?" I ask.
Marcus shakes his head. "He told us everything he knows. The man who paid him was tall, wore a hood, spoke with no accent he could place. Told him to leave through the east gate after the deed was done. We have guards watching that gate now but I do not think anyone will show."
"They know we caught him," I say, standing up. "They will change their plans."
"Probably." Marcus stretches, his back cracking. "What does the High Priest want?"
"I do not know." I look at the young priest still waiting by the door. "Tell him I will be there within the hour."
The priest bows and leaves. I finish dressing, pulling on proper formal robes because you do not visit the Moon Temple looking like you just rolled out of bed. Even if you did.
The temple sits at the highest point in the palace grounds, a tall white building with silver spires that catch the first light of dawn. I climb the stone steps leading up to it, my boots echoing loud in the early morning quiet. Two guards follow me at a respectful distance but I wave them off at the temple doors. Whatever Lirien wants to say, he will say it without witnesses.
Inside the temple is cold despite the braziers burning along the walls. Silver light filters through windows made of colored glass, painting the floor in patterns that shift as the sun rises higher. The air smells like incense and old stone. My footsteps sound wrong in here, too heavy, too mortal for a place built to honor something ancient.
High Priest Lirien waits at the altar, his back to me. He is old, older than anyone else in the palace, his hair white as snow and his skin thin like parchment. But he stands straight, his shoulders back, power radiating from him in a way that has nothing to do with physical strength. When he turns to face me his eyes are silver, completely silver with no white or pupil visible, the mark of someone who has given themselves completely to the Moon's service.
"Your Majesty," he says, his voice rasping like wind through dry leaves. "Come closer."
I walk down the center aisle between the wooden benches and stop a few feet from the altar. Lirien gestures to the brazier beside him where flames burn blue instead of orange. "The sacred fire speaks truths that ordinary men cannot hear," he says. "I read it this morning as I do every morning. What I saw troubles me greatly."
"What did you see?" I ask.
"Darkness." He points at the flames. "Look for yourself."
I step closer and look into the fire. At first I see nothing unusual, just blue flames dancing over hot coals. Then something shifts in the pattern, something that makes my wolf stir uneasily. The flames move wrong, twisting in directions fire should not twist, forming shapes that almost look like faces before dissolving again.
"The Moon grows angry," Lirien says quietly. "You feel it, do you not? The change in the air. The cold settling deeper than it should. Strange dreams plaguing the packs."
I have felt it. I have been too busy with assassins and poisoned wine to think much about it, but yes, I have felt something wrong in the realm. A restlessness in the wolves. A tension that was not there before.
"Why is the Moon angry?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"Because the king delays his duty." Lirien's silver eyes fix on me. "Your wedding to Lady Isolde was supposed to happen two months ago. You postponed it once. Then again. Now it sits three months away and still you hesitate. The fated bond requires completion, Your Majesty. It is not a suggestion. It is law written into the very fabric of our existence."
"I have not refused the wedding," I say carefully. "I have only delayed it."
"Why?" His voice cracks like a whip. "What could possibly be more important than securing the realm's future? The bond between a king and his fated mate is what keeps the Moon's blessing over our people. Without it we lose control of our beasts. Without it the magic that protects us from our enemies fails. Without it we are just wolves, Your Majesty, dangerous and mortal and easy to destroy."
I clench my jaw. "I am aware of the stakes."
"Are you?" He moves closer, his robes whispering against the stone floor. "Because from where I stand it appears you care more about a rogue criminal than you do about the thousands of wolves depending on you to do your duty."
My hands curl into fists at my sides. "Be careful, Priest."
"I will not be careful," he says sharply. "Not when the realm itself is at risk. Not when I can see the evidence with my own eyes. Strange black storms gather over the dark forests. Crops that should be thriving begin to wither and die. Livestock birth dead young. The wild wolves that usually avoid our borders grow bold and aggressive." He points at the blue flames again. "The Moon shows me all of this in the sacred fire. It shows me a kingdom falling apart because its king cannot control himself."
"You overstep," I say, my voice dropping into a growl.
"Do I?" Lirien reaches out suddenly and places his hand flat against my chest, right over my heart. His palm is cold, so cold it burns through my robes. "The fated bond weakens every day you hesitate," he says. "I can feel it dying under my hand. Can you not feel it yourself? Can you not sense Lady Isolde pulling away because you give her nothing to hold on to?"
I want to shove his hand away but something about his silver eyes keeps me still. Yes, I can feel it. The bond that used to hum constant between Isolde and me now flickers like a candle about to go out. Every time I think about Eryx instead of her, every time I pull away when she reaches for me, another thread of that bond snaps.
"I do not know what hold this rogue has over you," Lirien continues, his voice softer now but no less intense. "But you must break it. You must marry Isolde and complete the bond before it is too late. Before the Moon withdraws its blessing entirely and we are left defenseless."
"What if the Moon is wrong?" The words come out before I can stop them.
Lirien gasps and steps back like I struck him. His hand falls away from my chest. "Blasphemy," he breathes. "You speak blasphemy in the Moon's own temple."
"I am asking a question," I say, holding his gaze even though his silver eyes make my wolf want to submit. "What if the Moon can choose wrong? What if destiny is not as fixed as we believe it to be? What if there is more than one path forward?"
"There is only one path," Lirien says, his voice shaking now with anger or fear, I cannot tell which. "The path the Moon laid out before you were born. The path every Lycan king has followed since the beginning. You do not get to question it simply because you feel confused or distracted or whatever foolishness has gripped your heart."
"It is not foolishness," I start to say.
"Then what is it?" he demands. "Tell me, Your Majesty. Tell me what is worth risking everything your ancestors built. What is worth watching your people suffer and die because you could not put aside your own desires for the good of the realm."
I want to answer him. I want to explain that this is not just desire, that what I feel when I am with Eryx is different from anything I have ever felt, that it feels more real than the fated bond ever has. But how do I explain that to a man who has spent his entire life in service to the Moon? How do I make him understand that I am not trying to destroy the kingdom, I am trying to find a way to be both king and myself?
"I will marry Isolde," I say finally. The words taste like ash. "When the time comes, I will do my duty."
"The time is now," Lirien says. "Not three months from now. Now, before the damage becomes irreversible."
"I need time to deal with the traitors in my council," I say. "Someone tried to poison me and my future queen last night. I cannot focus on a wedding when there are people inside my own palace trying to kill us."
Lirien's silver eyes widen slightly. "Poison?"
"Yes. If I had not stopped it, both Isolde and I would be dead. So forgive me if I think securing my throne against assassination is slightly more urgent than moving up my wedding date."
He is quiet for a moment, his ancient face unreadable. Then he nods slowly. "Very well. Root out your traitors. But do it quickly, Your Majesty. Every day you wait, the Moon's anger grows. Every day you delay, the realm slides closer to chaos."