Night draped the palace like silk — soft, deceptive, hiding the claws beneath its beauty.
Seraphina sat alone in the open-aired moon chamber, a place carved from alabaster and etched with prayers to the first Moon Goddess. She had summoned no one this time.
And yet…
He came.
Footsteps, light but deliberate, echoed down the marble walkway. She didn't turn. She didn't need to. His scent carried smoke and cedar.
Alpha Theron.
"You shouldn't be here," she said softly, fingers toying with the rim of her crystal chalice.
"Shouldn't," he agreed, coming to a slow stop behind her. "But the divine rarely follow rules."
She smiled faintly, still facing the open sky.
"The last man who touched me without invitation nearly lost a hand," she murmured.
"I'm not here to touch," he replied. "I'm here to warn."
That made her glance at him. Just once.
He stood tall, arms crossed behind his back, his silver eyes not predatory like Kael's or hungry like Rhydian's—but curious. Calculated.
"Speak," she said.
"Kael is unraveling," Theron said plainly. "Rhydian is close behind. You have them at the edge of madness."
She rose slowly, her silk gown sliding down her body like water. "That's the point."
"Is it?" His voice was quiet now. "You want a war between them? What then?"
She walked to him, bare feet silent on the stone. When she stopped, she was inches from him, chin tilted in silent defiance.
"I want to see who breaks first."
"And if they break each other?"
"Then they were never meant to stand beside me."
Theron met her gaze, unwavering. "And who stands with you, then?"
Her lips curved.
"Perhaps someone who knows how to stay still when others fight."
He exhaled slowly.
"You're not what they think," he murmured.
"No," she agreed, voice silk and shadow. "I'm more."
She moved past him—just enough to brush her fingers across his chest as she passed. Not seduction. Not surrender.
A warning.
Theron didn't grab her. Didn't follow.
But his eyes lingered.
And Seraphina knew what he was thinking:
He hadn't come to touch her. But now, he wanted to.
Deeply.
Dangerously.
> "Let them want me," she thought, stepping back into the moonlight.
"Let them all come undone."
---
Meanwhile, across the palace...
Kael stood on his balcony, watching the temple glow in the distance. His fists bled again. His wolf raged.
And Rhydian?
He was no longer sleeping.
He paced beneath the moon, bare-chested, whispering to the goddess who had not yet answered him.
But Seraphina?
She did not pray.
She waited.
Because soon… they would all come to her.
On their knees.
Or on their swords.
---
At dawn, the palace bell tolled once.
Then again.
Then a third time—low and solemn.
It wasn't a celebration.
It was a summoning.
The second Luna Trial had begun.
The courtyard was prepared like a battlefield—though no blood had yet been spilled. A single altar of stone stood at the center, surrounded by six crescent blades, their tips dipped in silver and wolfsbane.
Seraphina appeared last.
She wore black this time.
Velvet that hugged her body like a second skin, with sleeves that flared and dragged behind her like smoke. Her hair was braided with midnight pearls and a single silver thread that shimmered like starlight.
Her gaze swept over the crowd, but settled on only three men.
Kael. Rhydian. Theron.
Each stood tense, bare-chested beneath their ceremonial cloaks, eyes unreadable, power simmering just beneath the surface.
She raised a hand.
"The Trial of Loyalty is not won by brute strength or honeyed words," she said, her voice echoing across the courtyard. "It is proven… by sacrifice."
Murmurs stirred.
She turned, facing the altar. "Each of you must surrender one thing you value above all else—your greatest weapon, your deepest vow, or your most sacred bond. Place it before the altar, and I will see you."
The silence deepened.
Then Kael stepped forward first.
His soldiers stiffened.
Kael drew a dagger from his side—a carved obsidian blade edged in moonsteel. The dagger of his bloodline. The one passed down from the first Alpha of the Northern Dominion.
He looked at her. Straight into her.
Then he knelt.
"I offer the blade that made me king," he said. "And if needed… I'll offer the crown next."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Kael placed the dagger on the stone and stepped back.
Seraphina didn't react.
Not yet.
Then Rhydian moved.
He approached the altar slower—stalking rather than walking.
He didn't carry a weapon. No blade. No crown.
Instead, he pulled from around his neck a silver chain—small, simple, forgotten by most. But not by him.
Seraphina knew what it was the moment she saw it.
"The last thing my mother gave me before she was slaughtered," Rhydian said, voice deep. "I've never removed it. Not in battle. Not in grief. Until now."
He laid it on the altar beside Kael's blade.
The two offerings couldn't have been more different.
Yet they carried the same weight.
Then all eyes turned to Theron.
The rogue.
The quiet.
He stepped forward, holding nothing in his hands.
People murmured.
But he didn't flinch.
"I have no heirlooms," he said. "No crown. No relic."
He stopped before the altar and placed his hand on the stone.
"I offer my right to challenge for her hand. If I'm not chosen… I will never claim another mate. I will go alone into the wilds and remain unbonded for the rest of my life."
Silence.
Complete.
Even Kael's chest stilled.
Even Rhydian blinked once.
Seraphina stepped forward then.
She stood before the altar, looking at all three offerings—flesh, steel, memory.
"You would give your future?" she asked Theron.
"Yes."
"You would give your legacy?" she asked Kael.
"Yes."
"You would give your blood?" she asked Rhydian.
He met her gaze.
"I already have."
The Trial ended in silence.
But power trembled in the air like a storm waiting to break.
---
The moon hung low, heavy with silver promise.
Seraphina stood in her private chamber, bare feet on marble, robe draped around her loosely like a forgotten thought. Her skin still glowed faintly from the ceremony—power simmering just beneath the surface.
Three kings had offered their pride.
Three wolves had surrendered parts of their soul.
But only one had dared break the silence first.
A knock echoed softly at her door.
Not urgent.
Not meek.
Just… deliberate.
She didn't ask who it was.
She already knew.
"Enter," she said, not turning around.
The door opened.
And Kael stepped inside.
No ceremonial cloak. No crown.
Just a loose black tunic half-undone, dark pants, and the raw, barely contained heat of a man who had given her his legacy—and still craved more.
"You should be resting," she said softly.
"So should you."
Still, he said nothing more.
She turned slowly, one hand on the window frame, letting the moonlight catch the line of her neck, the bare slope of her shoulder. Her robe slipped slightly—just enough to reveal skin, but not surrender.
Kael's breath caught.
"You came to speak," she said.
"I came to see if you would punish me again."
Seraphina arched a brow. "Is that what you think I do?"
He stepped closer. Not too fast. Not aggressive.
But his energy filled the room.
"No," he murmured. "I think you make men starve… until they forget what it means to eat."
She let the silence stretch.
Then said, "And you?"
"I'm already starving."
Her gaze moved over him slowly—his tense jaw, the flicker of his gold eyes, the pulse hammering in his throat.
"You think I'm yours?"
"No," he said.
Then added, more quietly—
"I think I want to be."
That stopped her.
Seraphina studied him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. Then, she stepped toward him—deliberately slow—until their bodies almost touched.
She reached up, brushing his cheek with her fingertips. Just once.
"I haven't chosen," she whispered.
"I know."
His hand came up instinctively, cupping her waist—warm, calloused, steady.
"But if you did…" he murmured, "would you come to me like this?"
She didn't answer.
But she didn't step away either.
Instead, she leaned in—slowly, torturously—and whispered at his ear, "You haven't earned that yet."
Then she pulled back, walking past him like smoke.
Kael remained frozen, breath heavy, desire thrumming under his skin like a war drum.
"I'll earn it," he said softly.
But she didn't turn.
She simply smiled, disappearing behind the silk veil that guarded her inner chamber.
And Kael?
He left her chambers aching.
Wanting.
Burning.
Exactly how she wanted him.