The heavy doors closed behind the departing servants with a soft thud, leaving Seren alone in the vast chamber that would now be her home—and her battlefield. The silence felt almost oppressive after the constant bustle of activity, broken only by the distant sounds of castle life filtering through the thick stone walls.
She turned slowly, looking around the room with new eyes. It was undeniably magnificent, but it felt cold, like no one really lived there. Rich mahogany furniture shone in the afternoon light: a huge desk near the tall windows, fancy chairs covered in deep blue fabric, and a giant wardrobe that took up most of one wall. But there were no portraits, no personal trinkets, nothing that spoke of the man who had called this place home for decades.
"Strange," she whispered, tracing the edge of the table. So much power, yet no signs of pride? Not even a mirror to admire himself. Or the mighty Wolf King likes to live like a ghost. I'll go with him having a personal room for such possessions.
She crossed the room to the locked study door and gently tried the handle. As expected, it didn't budge.
Her eyes landed on a fancy panel next to the bed, covered with brass buttons and tiny labels. The maid—Greta, she recalled—had mentioned something about summoning assistance. Seren leaned in, smiling as she read the labels: Food, Bath, Cleaning, Library, Stables, Guards, and a few others she couldn't fully read because of the fancy writing.
She hesitated for a moment, then gave in to curiosity and pressed the button that said Food.
Within moments, a soft knock echoed through the chamber. "My lady?" came a nervous voice. "You rang for refreshments?"
"I did," Seren replied, a little thrill running through her. She was impressed by how fast they responded. "Some tea would be lovely, if you please. And perhaps some of those honey cakes I glimpsed in the kitchens."
"Right away, my lady!"
She heard quick footsteps hurrying off and couldn't help but smile. The service here was better than she expected.
Feeling a bit more cheerful, she turned to the huge wardrobe. The doors were carved with detailed wolf designs. When she opened it, she was surprised by how empty it looked. This one was clearly made for two people, but only a few of the king's clothes hung on the left side. Everything was dark and simple: black, deep blue, forest green. Everything practical. Nothing fancy.
She began unpacking her own things, filling the right side with her collection of gowns, cloaks, and more intimate garments. The contrast was striking—her rich purples, blues, soft peach and silver accents seemed to bring life to the austere space. As she hung each piece, she couldn't help but wonder what the absent king would think of sharing his sanctuary with a woman's presence.
With her belongings settled, Seren decided to explore the bathing chamber. She pushed open a door she assumed led to a closet, only to gasp in surprise.
The bathroom was more luxurious than anything she'd ever seen, even grander than the one at her family's manor. In the middle stood a large marble tub, big enough for several people, with shiny brass taps shaped like roaring wolves. The floor was covered in detailed tiles showing wolves running under a full moon. Soft light came through tall frosted windows, keeping the room bright but private. The shelves were filled with fancy soaps, oils, and towels that looked and felt like soft clouds.
"This! is awesome!" she breathed, trailing her fingers along the tub's rim. The marble was warm to the touch—enchanted, no doubt, to maintain perfect temperature.
She turned the wolf-headed taps experimentally, and steaming water began to flow.
Settling onto the marble edge, Seren let her mind wander to the man who had built this sanctuary. What did King Alaric look like? The stories painted him as a monster—seven feet tall with claws like daggers and eyes that glowed with hellfire. But stories had a way of growing in the telling, especially when they involved one's sworn enemy.
Would he be cruel to her? The bond was supposed to inspire protection, even affection, but what happened when that bond existed between natural enemies? Her mother had taught her defensive spells, ways to shield her mind and protect her body, but against a werewolf king who had survived thirty years of warfare? Against someone who could probably snap her neck with one hand?
"Courage, Seren," she whispered to herself, unconsciously echoing her mother's words. "You're an Evernight. You've got this."
She turned off the taps and walked back into the main chamber, picking a towel from the neat stack near the door. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, turning everything golden. For the first time since she left home, she allowed herself to truly appreciate her surroundings.
The room was massive, at least three times bigger than her old one at the coven. Dark blue and silver tapestries covered the stone walls, showing hunts and battles that almost looked alive when the light hit them. The bed was grand, with tall posts and deep midnight curtains embroidered with silver wolves that looked like they were creeping across the fabric. One wall held a giant fireplace, big enough to roast a whole pig, with the royal crest of the Northern Wolflands carved into its mantle.
But it was the space itself that truly impressed her. After years of sharing cramped quarters with her sisters, the luxury of solitude in such grandeur felt intoxicating. She could practice her magic here without worry of discovery. She could think, plan, scheme without interruption. Or maybe she was wrong.
A wave of happiness bubbled up inside her, and she couldn't hold it back. Seren began to spin in the middle of the room, her silk gown swirling like flower petals around her. She laughed as she danced across the smooth floor, arms wide open to embrace this new freedom..
"Maybe this won't be so bad after all," she said aloud, grinning as she spun.
Then—a sudden, sharp knock at the door stopped her in her tracks.
"I've brought your tea... my lady?" came a deep voice from the other side of the door.
Seren's heart skipped a beat. She quickly smoothed her gown, trying to collect herself. But there was something about that voice, it was low, firm, and unmistakably male—that made a shiver run down her spine.
That didn't sound like a servant.
Is that him? Is that Alaric? Seren wondered, her heart pounding as she straightened her posture and walked toward the door.
She opened it slowly and found herself face-to-face with a tall, handsome young man. His blonde hair caught the light, and his sharp features looked like they were carved from stone. He didn't smile. Instead, he looked her over from head to toe with a calm, unreadable expression. His face was unreadable, his gaze steady.
Whoever he was, he wasn't here just to serve tea.