Kieran's POV
"You can't keep refusing, Your Majesty. The kingdom's wards are failing."
I slam my fist on the throne's armrest so hard the stone cracks. "I said no, Corvus."
My advisor doesn't even flinch. Lord Corvus never flinches—that's what makes him dangerous. Or useful. I haven't decided which yet.
"Without a moon-blessed mate, the protective magic will collapse within the year," he says calmly. "Enemy kingdoms are already gathering at our borders. They're waiting for the wards to fall."
I want to throw him out. I want to roar that I don't need anyone. That I've ruled alone for twelve years and kept this kingdom safe without some mate chosen by the moon.
But he's right. I hate that he's right.
"The ceremony is tonight," Corvus continues. "Princess Seraphina is perfect for—"
"Perfect?" I laugh bitterly. "You mean politically convenient."
"Yes." He doesn't pretend otherwise. "She's strong, educated, from a powerful family. The nobles already expect it. This marriage will unite—"
"I don't care about marriage." My voice drops to a growl. "I care about keeping my people alive."
The memories slam into me without warning. They always do.
Blood on the throne room floor. My mother's lifeless eyes staring at nothing. My father's hand reaching for her one last time before the light left his body. My older brother Marcus, barely twenty-two, choking on his own blood as assassins surrounded him.
And me. Nineteen years old, frozen in the doorway, too late to save any of them.
I was supposed to be the spare. The second son. Marcus was meant to be king. But the assassins made sure there was no other choice.
They made sure I had no one left to love. No one left to lose.
"Your Majesty?" Corvus's voice pulls me back. "Are you unwell?"
"I'm fine." I force the memories down deep where they belong. "I'll attend the ceremony. I'll accept whoever the moon chooses. But don't expect me to pretend it's anything more than duty."
"Of course not, Your Majesty." Corvus bows and leaves.
Alone, I walk to the window. The full moon is already rising, huge and silver against the darkening sky. Something about it makes my wolf restless. He's pacing inside me, agitated in ways I don't understand.
Calm down, I tell him silently. It's just a ceremony. Just politics.
But my wolf doesn't calm. If anything, he gets worse. He claws at my control, desperate to get out. To run. To find...
Find what?
I shake my head. I'm being ridiculous. There's nothing to find. The moon will choose Seraphina because she's the logical choice. I'll do my duty. The kingdom will be protected.
Love doesn't enter into it.
Love is what got my parents killed.
My father loved my mother so much that when she was murdered, he lost his mind. He went after the assassins alone, without his guards, without thinking. They cut him down easily. Marcus died trying to save him.
Three people dead because of love.
I learned that day: caring makes you weak. Attachment makes you vulnerable. The only way to protect what matters is to keep everyone at arm's length.
No exceptions.
I turn from the window and head toward my chambers to prepare. My reflection catches in a mirror as I pass—silver eyes cold as ice, jaw set in hard lines, shoulders carrying twelve years of death and duty.
The Winter King. That's what they call me.
Let them. Cold keeps you alive.
An hour later, I'm dressed and ready. My guards escort me through the palace toward the Sacred Moon Temple. Servants bow low as I pass. They're all terrified of me.
Good. Fear keeps them safe. Fear keeps them from getting too close.
We reach the temple entrance. Through the massive doors, I hear the crowd inside—hundreds of nobles gathered for the spectacle. The thought of performing for them makes my skin crawl.
But I'm a king before I'm a man.
I push open the doors and walk down the center aisle. The crowd parts like water. No one meets my eyes. Princess Seraphina stands near the altar in a silver gown, smiling confidently. She thinks this is already decided.
Maybe it is.
I climb the steps to my throne and sit, gripping the armrests. The High Priestess begins her chanting. The moonlight grows brighter, pouring through the crystal dome.
My wolf surges forward suddenly, so forcefully I almost lose control.
What's wrong with you? I demand.
He doesn't answer. He just keeps pushing, keeps searching, keeps—
The moonlight descends.
It moves toward Seraphina.
Then it swerves.
My breath catches. The beam cuts across the temple like it has a mind of its own. It's searching for something. Someone.
It finds a girl in the shadows.
Dark hair. Thin frame. A servant holding a tray of wine glasses.
The moonlight strikes her, and she screams.
The Moon's Kiss blooms across her skin.
And my entire world tilts.
My wolf explodes with recognition. MATE. OURS. PROTECT HER.
No. That's impossible. She's—
Our eyes meet across the temple.
Everything else disappears. The crowd. The nobles. Seraphina's furious scream. None of it matters.
Only her.
Those eyes—terrified and brave and somehow familiar even though I've never seen her before. Something in my chest cracks open, something I thought I'd frozen shut forever.
Then I see the hooded figures burst through the temple doors.
Assassins.
And every single one of them is running toward my mate.
My body moves before my mind catches up. I launch from the throne, shifting mid-air. My wolf tears through the crowd as one thought burns through me:
They will NOT touch her.