“You sure you’re ready for this?” Caelan asked, fastening the last strap on his gear. His voice was light, but his eyes didn’t miss a thing, not the tremor in my breath, not the way I kept adjusting the dagger at my hip even though it was already secure.
I tilted my head, a smirk teasing the corner of my mouth. “You mean the diplomatic hunt or the possibility of outpacing you in front of half the Summit?”
“Oh, I fully expect you to try,” he said, tossing me a wink. “But it’s cute that you think you’ll succeed.”
We walked side by side into the trees, the thrum of movement behind us humming like a heartbeat. The clearing was still alive with sound—shouts of commanders, the chatter of diplomats, armor clinking, wolves shifting and stretching.
The Summit Hunt wasn’t just ceremonial anymore. It had become something else this year. A show of strength. Of alliances. Of loyalty to the royal bloodline.
To me.
Leaders from every major pack had gathered, eyes constantly tracking me, measuring me. Every step I took was both proof and test.
Caelan adjusted the blade strapped at his hip, his eyes flicking toward me in that way they always did when he was trying to read beneath the surface. “Still haven’t answered me.”
I arched a brow. “Answered what?”
He raised one of his own. “You know what.”
And I did.
He was referring to what he’d said days ago—how he’d told me he was interested in me, not as a political ally or a figurehead, but as me. As Sylra. And I hadn’t responded.
Not because I didn’t care.
Not because I didn’t feel something stir inside me every time he got too close, or looked at me like I was made of stars and rage and reasons to believe.
But because there were still parts of me I hadn’t claimed yet. Pieces that had belonged to someone else. Pieces I was still pulling back.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I said softly.
He gave a small smile, no pressure in it. “I told you I’d wait.”
“Forever?”
“Don’t push it.”
I laughed, shaking my head. It was the kind of laugh I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time, one that didn’t feel like it had to be hidden behind armor.
The woods grew thicker the further we moved. The terrain shifted subtly beneath our boots, roots twisted under the moss, and the scent of the earth grew stronger. Wolves fanned out into designated hunting groups behind us, their tracks marked and mapped.
I stepped ahead, scanning the ridge. My role today wasn’t just symbolic—I was leading the Hunt, just as the Lycan heir should.
Caelan stepped beside me, gaze fixed ahead. “You know, when you become Queen…”
“When?” I echoed, glancing sideways.
He nodded once. “When.”
I gave him a mock skeptical look.
“…You could do worse than naming me your Beta.”
I barked a laugh. “Oh? Is this your pitch now?”
“I bring loyalty, sarcasm, and a very firm sword arm.”
“And the ability to take a punch from a jealous ex.”
He gave a dramatic bow. “An underrated skill in court politics.”
We both laughed—an easy, genuine sound that cut through the tension lingering in the woods. For the first time in days, it felt like I was with someone who saw me without the title. Without the crown. Just me.
And then, everything shifted.
The breeze that had been tugging at the leaves stilled completely, like the forest had sucked in a breath and forgotten how to exhale.
My wolf stirred beneath my skin. Alert. Uneasy.
Caelan’s head turned sharply, eyes narrowing. “You feel that?”
“Something’s off.”
Even before I finished the sentence, I saw it a flicker of movement through the trees. It was quick, and controlled.
Then I saw the glint of steel, and arrows.
Shit.
“It’s an ambush!” Caelan’s voice rang out across the trees as he reached for the whistle at his belt. The sharp trill pierced the air.
Everything erupted.
Wolves shifted mid-stride. Howls rose in alarm. Shouts tore through the forest as arrows began to rain down, sharp and fast. The enemy knew exactly where to aim.
I didn’t think.
I let the shift take me.
The heat of it was instant, blistering. My bones cracked and reformed, stretching and snapping back into place with burning precision. Golden fur burst across my skin, brighter than the sun. Light exploded from me, pure and violent and divine.
Gasps tore through the trees.
I felt their shock ripple through the ranks.
The golden wolf.
I was no longer just Sylra.
I was the Blood Princess.
Three attackers burst from the brush, masked and silent.
I met them head-on.
My body collided with the first, sending him crashing into a tree. The crack of his ribs echoed through the clearing. Another slashed across my flank, pain seared through me, but I didn’t falter. I turned on him, jaws wide, and sank my teeth into his arm. Bone snapped like a branch in a storm.
Blood sprayed the ground, and I dart my eyes towards Caelen. I saw him struggling with one of the rival wolves and I glanced away to see an arrow, arcing toward Caelan.
He didn’t see it.
“Caelan!” I roared through the bond.
But he was already running toward me, thinking I was the one in danger. I tried to move, to block it, but I was seconds too late.
He crashed into me, wrapping his arms around my golden frame, shielding me with his body just as the arrow found its mark.
It slammed into his shoulder with a sickening thunk.
“NO!” I screamed.
He collapsed beside me, his body hitting the dirt hard. His breathing came in short, ragged gasps.
