The news hit Alarist Castle like a thunderclap on a clear day.
"A witch," whispered one of the kitchen maids, her voice barely audible over the clatter of morning preparations. "Our king's mate is a witch."
"Hush, Marta!" snapped the head cook, Mrs. Henley, though her own hands trembled as she kneaded the bread dough. "Walls have ears in this place."
But it was too late. By dawn, every servant, guard, and pack member in the Northern Wolflands had heard the impossible news: their unmated king, the wolf who had defied the Moon Goddess for twenty years, had been claimed by the bond. And not just to anyone. To a Shadowthorn witch
In the great war council chamber, twelve elders sat around the old oak table, their faces heavy with disbelief.
"This is madness!" Elder Fabian slammed his fist down, making the water goblets jump. "A Shadowthorn witch claiming to be bound to our king? It has to be some elaborate trick!"
"Keep your voice down," Elder Vera hissed, her sharp eyes darting toward the doors. "The whole castle is already buzzing with rumors."
Elder Marc, the youngest of them all, leaned forward. "Where is His Majesty? Shouldn't he be here?"
Elder Fabian's laugh was bitter. "Out hunting rogues on the eastern border. Same as any other day."
"His mate is coming, and he's hunting?" Elder Isla looked incredulous.
"You know our king," Elder Vera replied dryly. "The messenger said he read the announcement, handed it back, and told them to 'handle the arrangements' because he had work to do."
"Handle the arrangements," Elder Gareth repeated slowly, his ancient voice creaking. "Like she's a trade delegation instead of his destined mate."
Elder Marc leaned forward anxiously. "But what if this is real? What if the Moon Goddess truly chose her?"
"Then she has a twisted sense of humor," Elder Fabian growled. "Binding our king to Cordelia Evernight's daughter."
The name made the room fall quiet. They all remembered the Witch Wars, the covens that had fallen, the High Witch who had escaped with her daughters.
"She's just nineteen," Elder Isla said quietly. "Barely more than a child. How dangerous could she really be?"
Vera gave her a sharp look. "Witches don't need age to be deadly. I've seen ten-year-olds destroy villages."
"But the bond—" Marc tried again. "It can't be faked. That's what the old texts say."
"Unless the witches found a way," Elder Fabian muttered. "They've had twenty years to plan."
"Then we watch," Elder Gareth said simply. "We welcome her like tradition demands. But we stay alert. If she means harm, we'll know."
-
Meanwhile, three floors below, the castle kitchens were a mess.
"What do witches even eat?" Marta squeaked. "Eye of newt? Bat wings?"
"Don't be silly," Mrs. Henley muttered, clearly unsure herself. "They're still human... I think."
"But what if she curses the food?" another maid whispered. "What if she turns us into frogs?"
Greta, the head housemaid, marched in with a pile of clean linens. "Stop gossiping and start working! We have the king's chambers to prepare."
"The king's chambers?" Marta's eyes went wide. "She's staying with His Majesty?"
"Where else would his mate stay?" Greta replied, though uncertainty colored her voice. "Elder Isla wants the adjoining sitting room readied with fresh linens, and..." She hesitated. "Silver-threaded curtains for both rooms."
The maids exchanged worried glances. Silver-threaded curtains weren't decorative, they were protective. Against magic.
"But what about the king's private study?" Marta asked nervously. "Surely she won't have access to that?"
"The study remains his alone," Greta said firmly. "That door stays locked, as always."
-
As evening fell, preparations continued throughout the castle. Servants scurried with fresh linens and polished silver. Guards received new security briefings. Cooks debated mysterious dietary requirements.
And somewhere beyond the eastern border, King Alaric Venemore continued his hunt, apparently unconcerned about his fated mate. He hadn't reacted much to the bond. If anything, he was annoyed.
Love? He didn't have time for that. Fate meant nothing. And a witch as his mate? He hadn't thought much about her… but maybe she'd be fun to break.
-
Three days later, the sound of approaching horses echoed through the castle courtyard.
"She's here," Greta whispered, peering through the window. "The witch is here."
Marta dropped her broom and ran to look. A black carriage pulled by four midnight horses rolled through the gates, escorted by six riders in dark cloaks. The carriage door bore the silver crest of the Shadowthorn Coven, a crescent moon wrapped in thorns.
"She looks so young and beautiful" Marta breathed as a figure stepped from the carriage.
"Young and dangerous," Greta muttered, but even she couldn't look away.
The council members stepped outside into the courtyard, their formal robes rustling in the afternoon breeze. Elder Gareth stepped forward as the carriage door opened.
A pale hand reached out first. Then a girl stepped down in deep purple silk that shimmered like twilight. Her dark hair was crowned with a silver circlet, and though she was panicking on the inside, her chin was lifted like a queen, looking as calm as possible.
"Lady Seren," Elder Gareth greeted her with a respectful bow.He looked like the eldest among them, with a lined face carved by years of war and leadership. His long silver hair was neatly tied back, and his wolf-gray eyes held the quiet weight of someone who had seen too much and trusted too little. Though his posture was still strong, there was a heaviness in the way he moved."Welcome to Alarist Castle. I am Elder Gareth, speaking for the Council in our king's... temporary absence."
Seren scanned the crowd, cool and collected, like she wasn't nervous at all. "I'm honored," she said smoothly. "Though I admit… I expected my mate to be here. This feels like a rather important moment."
A few Elders shifted awkwardly.
"His Majesty attends to urgent matters of defense," Elder Vera interjected smoothly, keeping her tone polite. She was tall and sharply elegant, with silver-streaked black hair pinned tightly into a crown braid. Her voice was calm and her eyes, a cold steel-blue. "The safety of the realm takes precedence, as I'm sure you understand."
"Indeed" Seren replied, her smile practiced.
Elder Isla stepped forward, her diplomatic instincts taking over. Her golden-brown skin was lined gently with age, but her eyes—warm hazel, made her seem younger. Dressed in flowing robes of forest green, she looked less like a warrior and more like a queen's advisor. She offered Seren a small, respectful nod."Your chambers have been prepared... my lady. If you would permit us to escort you?"
"You have my thanks." Seren nodded gracefully. "I hope my belongings will be handled carefully. Some items are... delicate in nature."
The servants quickly began unloading trunks from the carriage, casting nervous glances at the witch's possessions.
As they walked through the grand halls, Seren took everything in. Thick stone walls. Guards positioned at every strategic points. Tapestries that might hide doors or spies.
"The king's chambers are in the north tower," Elder Gareth explained as they climbed the winding staircase. "Your sitting room adjoins the main bedchamber, with a private bath and dressing area. I trust you'll find the accommodations suitable."
Seren nodded gently. Her eyes went straight to a smaller door near the corner.
"His Majesty's private study," Elder Vera explained, following her gaze. "That remains his sanctuary alone."
"Of course." Seren walked toward the window. "A king must have his secrets." she whispered more to herself.
At the top, they stopped before tall double doors carved with wolves.
"Your new home," Gareth said, unlocking the doors.
Inside, the chambers were beautiful, rich blues and silvers, a huge bed, forest views. It was nothing like a little home.
"Your escort is welcome to stay in the guest wing," Isla added kindly.
"How generous." Seren turned, smiling faintly. "Though I doubt they'll stay long. The Coven has other duties."
It was clear: she would stay here. Alone. In a castle full of wolves.
"Then we'll leave you to settle," Gareth said. "Dinner is at sunset, should you wish to join."
"I'd love to meet my new... family," Seren said, her tone unreadable.
Once they were gone, she stood in silence, breathing in the scent of pine, stone, and something rougher, leather, maybe. Him.