Set Up

The heavy wooden door to the King’s office slammed open, the violent crash echoing loudly down the vacant, dimly lit hallway. Draven strode into the grand room, his chest rumbling with a low, dangerous growl. His heavy boots hit the polished floorboards with deliberate, aggressive thuds. He had just returned from a brutal month in the mountains, expecting to finally find peace in his own home. Instead, he found his courtyard swarming with endless foreign women, chaotic carriages, and a Sunset Princess who possessed a razor-sharp tongue and absolutely zero respect for Northern authority.

He glared across the spacious room, his jaw ticking in severe annoyance. Sitting casually behind his massive, carved oak desk, carelessly shuffling through a private stack of his royal correspondence, was his younger sister.

“Katerina,” Draven barked loudly, his deep voice vibrating with barely contained fury as he angrily confronted her. “What the hell is all this?”

Draven gave his sister a lethal, unyielding glare. He had been away for a grueling month, surviving the brutal Northern wilderness, only to return to a godforsaken circus. His ancestral home was currently overflowing with women he didn't know, didn't care to know, and actively wished to throw off the nearest snowy cliff. Every single one of them was practically foaming at the mouth to become his queen. And Katerina was sitting right in his chair, acting as if she owned the place.

"Brother!" Katerina chirped, bouncing up with a bright smile. She lunged forward to wrap him in a massive hug but slammed on the brakes halfway across the room. Her nose wrinkled in blatant disgust as her blue eyes raked over his dirt-caked, blood-splattered leathers. "What in the Goddess's name happened to you? You smell like a rotting carcass, and you look even worse."

"We were ambushed on the pass down from the mountains," Draven said flatly, holding up a large hand to kill whatever complaint she was about to voice. He stalked past her, deliberately reclaiming his heavy oak chair. She had clearly been treating his workspace as her personal vanity for weeks, judging by the haphazard stacks of royal decrees shoved aside. "I'm lucky I didn't have to shift during the bloodbath, or I'd be standing here naked. Now, sit down and explain."

"Lucky indeed," Katerina muttered, entirely unfazed by the concept of him fighting for his life.

Draven ground his teeth. He loved Katerina; she was his only remaining blood, the only family he had left in this icy wasteland. But her reckless, impulsive nature constantly bordered on treasonous stupidity, especially whenever her long-standing, pathetic childhood obsession with the Sunset King clouded her judgment. Goddamn Alaric Ironcrest. If that stubborn bastard had simply surrendered the small, disputed strip of borderland Draven actually needed, they could have forged a distant, functional treaty. Instead, Alaric had dragged this out, turning a simple land grab into a matrimonial nightmare.

Sensing the lethal shift in her brother’s aura, Katerina quickly calculated her odds of survival. "You look dead on your feet. You need a hot shower and some rest," she deflected smoothly, already pivoting her heels toward the heavy wooden door to escape.

A loud, vicious growl tore from Draven's chest, vibrating through the floorboards. "Not so fast." Boreas, his inner wolf, was pacing aggressively against the confines of his mind, practically snapping his jaws. "I am not repeating myself, Kat. What exactly did you do?"

Katerina froze, her hand hovering over the brass doorknob. She let out an exaggerated sigh and spun back around, abandoning her innocent act. "You already know exactly what I did." She strutted back to the desk, her chin raised in proud defiance. "And I don’t regret a single second of it."

"The Luna Trials." Draven dragged a calloused hand down his exhausted face, massaging his pounding temples. "I leave for one month, and you resurrect an ancient, barbaric competition just to turn my castle into a mating market. Why?"

"Because you forced my hand!" Katerina shot back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she dropped into the chair opposite him. "I saw the look on your face when that smug letter arrived from Sunset! Valeria Ironcrest suddenly deciding she would graciously accept your hand in marriage after rejecting you for years? You were furious!"

Draven exhaled a sharp, harsh breath. He was furious. None of this was ever supposed to end in a wedding. Months ago, he sat down with Alaric to negotiate. The Sunset King was desperate for military backing. Draven only attended because he coveted a highly strategic piece of territory sitting precisely on Alaric's northern border. Knowing how deeply Alaric despised him—a hatred cultivated since their youth and honed through years of bitter rivalry—Draven laid out a political bluff. He demanded Valeria’s hand in marriage or the land, fully banking on Alaric’s protective nature over his sister. Draven expected a swift rejection of the marriage and a reluctant handover of the territory.

Instead, the massive bluff spectacularly blew up in his face. Alaric, shocking everyone, agreed to the marriage proposal.

"I was bluffing, Kat," Draven ground out. "I never actually wanted to marry the girl. I just wanted the goddamn borderland."

"Exactly! So admit it, Draven," Katerina leaned forward, a triumphant, wicked smile stretching across her face. "I just handed you the absolute best solution. The Luna Trials is a sacred Northern tradition. No one can dispute it. We throw Valeria into the mix, we engineer the tasks so she fails spectacularly in the first round, and we pack her up and ship her back to Sunset. We get rid of her legally, without breaking the treaty ourselves. We don't need their alliance that badly anyway!"

"You know nothing about military strategy," Draven rebuked coldly, leaning back in his chair and eyeing a thick stack of reports marked with the crest of the Northern scouts. "I wouldn't be so quick to discard Sunset."

Katerina scowled, her perfectly groomed blonde eyebrows pulling together. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there is highly concerning, violent activity brewing deep in the white bear territory." Draven flipped open the top folder, scanning the grim reconnaissance notes. The Northern borders were notoriously hostile. Wars between lycans and the massive, savage white bear shifters were historically bloody and devastating. "They are mobilizing. Raiding parties are getting bolder. If the bears push south, I need a secure southern flank. This is absolutely not the time to piss Alaric off by openly humiliating his sister and breaking the marriage pact."

Katerina’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. Her bitter jealousy over Alaric finding his fated mate recently had turned her lifelong crush into a toxic, vindictive hatred. "So what? Are you seriously planning to actually marry Valeria? You’re going to let that Sunset brat sit on our throne?" Katerina shot up from her chair and slammed both fists down on the oak desk with enough force to rattle the inkwells. Her eyes flared a bright, dangerous royal blue.

"Fuck no," Draven scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "But we have to play the game strategically. Alaric finally agreed to this. If we just toss her out, he’ll see it as a direct insult. We need to handle this with precision."

"As if you’d ever want her in your bed anyway," Katerina rolled her glowing eyes, sinking back into her seat and casually inspecting her perfectly manicured nails. "I saw her arrive today. Trust me, brother, she is remarkably average. Completely plain. I have absolutely no idea what the fuss is about."

Draven closed the folder and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Her looks are the least of my problems right now. Thanks to your little stunt, my home is infested with noblewomen. I did not plan on taking a wife. Now I have a dozen obligations living under my roof."

"Oh, stop being such a dramatic martyr," Katerina smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes. "You desperately need a Luna. You complain about the paperwork and the budget constantly, yet you refuse to actually court anyone. This is your golden opportunity! Look at the contenders I invited. Miracles happen, Draven. You might even stumble across your true mate in that crowd!"

Draven let out a harsh, barking snort. Finding a mate was literally at the very bottom of his priority list. He knew Katerina had a valid point about the kingdom needing a capable queen—someone to handle the domestic politics, manage the sprawling castle staff, and balance the endless ledgers he despised. But selecting a Luna through a rigged obstacle course was sheer madness.

Deep inside, Boreas snarled aggressively, his massive paws slamming against Draven’s mental shields. *We take no substitute,* the wolf growled darkly. *A fated mate, or we rule alone. I will not tolerate a stranger in our bed.*

"Just give them a chance!" Katerina demanded, breaking his internal argument. "Give the poor girls a fair shot."

"You didn't exactly leave me a choice, did you?" Draven glared. "And if this blows up, it’s entirely on your head."

"It’s on Valeria’s head for showing up," Katerina corrected smoothly. "Look, if you don't like any of them, we fail them all. Simple. I personally designed the trials. The tasks are completely impossible. But who knows? Maybe by the end, you’ll find one of them entirely too tempting to let go."

Draven stared at her, catching the slight, nervous shift in her posture. "Why do I get the distinct feeling you already rigged this for a specific winner?"

"No one in particular," Katerina giggled. It was a high, breathy sound. A blatant lie.

"Who is it, Kat?" Draven’s voice dropped an octave, the commanding alpha tone bleeding through. He was far too exhausted to keep his aura in check.

"Just... a few strong contenders," she hedged, nervously smoothing an invisible crease on her silk dress.

"Who?" Draven demanded louder, his wolf ready to snap.

"Fine! Say whatever you want, but Vivienne would make an absolute perfect Luna for you!" Katerina blurted out, her lips pouting stubbornly. "She has the grace, the bloodline, and she was practically born to wear a crown. You are incredibly lucky I convinced her to participate in this mess!"

"Not her again," Draven groaned, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

"Just listen to me!" Katerina snatched her mobile phone from her pocket and shoved the screen in his face. "Look at the trial schedule. Test her yourself. You will see how flawlessly she handles pressure. I promise, no obligations. If she passes and you still don't want her, you can walk away."

Draven stared at the brightly lit screen, the words blurring together. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and all he wanted was to wash the dried blood out of his hair. He gave a single, curt nod just to shut her up.

"Fantastic!" Katerina clapped her hands together, practically vibrating with glee. "You absolutely will not regret this!"

"I already do," Draven muttered bitterly. "But mark my words, Kat. I am not dragging this out. I want these trials halted after a test or two. You weed them out fast. Understood?"

"Deal!" Katerina shrugged lightly. "It’s going to be wonderfully entertaining!"

She continued babbling something about Vivienne’s dresses and the opening ceremony, but Draven tuned her out completely. Exhaustion was rapidly pulling him under. He needed to figure out how to dismantle this entire chaotic circus without starting a war, and he had to do it alone.

Katerina pranced over to the door, pausing just before stepping into the hallway. "And Draven?" she tossed over her shoulder. "Shave that atrocious beard! You look like a feral mountain rogue. I can barely recognize you."

She slipped through the doorway and vanished before he could throw a heavy crystal paperweight at her head.

Draven sat in the heavy silence of his office, staring down at the official list of contenders Katerina had left on his desk. His eyes skimmed the names, landing on Vivienne’s, then Valeria’s. Katerina was right about one thing: he needed to look like a king, not a savage, if he was going to exert absolute control over this situation.

But grooming could wait. He needed legal leverage. The Luna Trials were steeped in ancient Northern laws, which meant there had to be an obscure loophole to terminate the event prematurely. He couldn't trust Katerina to actually end it. He had to dig up the historical texts himself. With a heavy sigh, Draven pushed himself up from the desk. His search for an exit strategy had to begin in the castle library.

***

Far across the sprawling, stone corridors of the Northern fortress, the castle library sat in oppressive, dusty silence. Valeria Ironcrest had spent nearly an hour navigating the confusing, winding halls to find it. To her utter shock, the Northerners had completely neglected to post guards at the massive double doors, granting their guests unrestricted access to the archives. It was a massive security miscalculation on Draven’s part, but Valeria certainly wasn't going to complain. If their sheer arrogance worked in her favor, she would exploit it to the absolute fullest.

She stood in the dim light of a flickering chandelier, completely immersed in a thick, crumbling ancient tome she had pulled from a restricted section. She rapidly scanned the faded ink, desperate to find any historical precedent regarding the Northern marriage laws. She needed to understand exactly what she had walked into before the trials truly began.

Suddenly, without a single second of warning, a horrific, agonizing pain violently ripped through Valeria’s entire body.

She gasped, her fingers spasming as the heavy tome nearly slipped from her grasp. The pain was sharp, electric, and utterly devastating. It seized her lungs, completely stealing her breath, as a brutal, visceral burning sensation flooded her lower abdomen.

Deep within the confines of her mind, her inner wolf, Bellona, threw her head back and unleashed a deafening, tortured howl of pure agony.

Valeria's knees buckled slightly, her hands slamming flat against the wooden library desk to keep herself upright. She knew this specific, torturous sensation all too well. It was the undeniable, sickening proof of the mate bond tearing at her soul. The phantom physical connection tied her directly to Kaelen's nervous system.

Through the jagged, forced link of their mating bond, Valeria could literally feel the disgusting rhythm of his betrayal. She felt the heavy, aggressive thrusts of his hips. She felt the wet, tight friction surrounding his cock as he drove himself relentlessly into another woman. The explicit, phantom sensation of his flesh buried deep inside someone else’s cunt violently echoed through her own body, manifesting as a sharp, stabbing agony in her chest and groin. Every time his balls slapped against the other woman's body, a new wave of excruciating pain radiated through Valeria's nerves.

He was doing it again. Right at this very exact moment, her so-called fated mate was fully engaged in fucking another female, completely discarding the sacred bond that tied them together. And because he refused to accept her rejection, she was brutally forced to endure the physical backlash of his infidelity, stranded entirely alone in the heart of enemy territory.

The agonizing torture intensified as the phantom sensations grew faster, Kaelen clearly nearing his climax inside the other woman. The pain was absolute hell, violently tearing her apart from the inside out. Valeria choked on a ragged breath, her vision swimming with tears as she aggressively gripped the edges of the desk, bracing herself for the final, gut-wrenching wave of his climax.