The grand hall of the Northern Realm had never looked so menacing. Sunlight filtered through the towering stained-glass windows, but it did little to lighten the air. Every council member was present, and every gaze was fixed on Elara. Whispered warnings passed among them, hushed tones carrying the same deadly promise as their daggers.
Elara walked beside Kael, her hand brushing his ever so slightly. The bond throbbed beneath their skin, a constant reminder of their connection. He didn't look at her, but she felt his awareness, sharp as a blade.
High Elder Morvain rose first, his voice cold, deliberate. "Lady Nightwind, your repeated displays of power have alarmed the council. We are here to demand your explanation… and compliance."
Elara's lips curved into a faint, defiant smile. "Compliance?" she echoed. "I am the queen-to-be. And I will not comply with cowardice masquerading as authority."
A murmur ran through the chamber. Kael's hand brushed hers again—deliberately this time—and the bond pulsed sharply. Energy tingled through both of them, a warning and a promise.
Moirvain's eyes narrowed. "Do not test the council's patience. We have tried to guide you. We have tried to warn you. And yet you defy us at every turn."
"You tried to control me," Elara replied evenly, "and nearly killed me in the process. I will not be your pawn again."
The chamber erupted in whispers and gasps. Some council members looked scandalized. Others, uncertain, exchanged nervous glances.
Kael's voice cut through the tension like steel. "Enough." He stepped forward, silver eyes blazing. "She is under my protection. Anyone who attempts to harm her will answer to me personally."
Moirvain's expression darkened. "Alpha King Blackthorn, you overstep—"
Kael moved closer to Elara, his presence a tangible wall of force. "I do not overstep," he said coldly. "I enforce consequences. You will not touch her. Not here. Not ever."
Elara could feel the bond responding, twisting and pulsing with Kael's rage. Pain flared, but it was under control—shared, familiar. She pressed her palm lightly against his arm, grounding the surge.
The hall seemed to hold its breath. Then, suddenly, a council member lunged—a dagger aimed at Elara.
"Kael!" she shouted.
He reacted instantly, catching her waist as he pulled her behind him. The dagger struck the floor with a clatter, embedding itself in the marble inches from her feet.
The bond flared violently. Lunar energy surged around Elara, spinning in a protective shield. Silver arcs danced along the walls, catching sunlight and throwing shards of light across the chamber. The council froze, stunned by the display.
Elara gasped. "I… I can't control it fully!"
Kael's hand went to her cheek, steadying her. "Yes, you can. Focus on me. Let the bond guide you."
She met his gaze, and something unspoken passed between them. The bond pulsed stronger, painful and intense, sending heat rushing through her chest. Instinctively, she leaned closer—just a fraction—and the world seemed to narrow until only Kael and her existed.
"Now," he whispered.
The silver energy responded, extending outward and knocking the remaining council guards back against the walls. They yelped, scrambling to maintain distance from the brilliance.
Breathing heavily, Elara stabilized the power, drawing the arcs of silver into tight spinning sigils at her feet. The chamber fell silent again, except for the crackle of energy fading like a dying flame.
Kael's grip on her arm tightened—not harshly, but possessively. "You see?" he murmured. "You control it when you trust the bond… and me."
Her pulse hammered in her chest. She wanted to pull back, to remind herself this was Kael—the man who had killed her in her past life—but the bond didn't allow it. It pulsed insistently, demanding connection, forcing proximity, testing limits.
Elara swallowed hard, and the distance between them shrank further. She could feel the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles, and the sharp, silver light in his eyes that reflected her own power back at her.
"Kael…" she whispered, almost without realizing it.
His head dipped slightly, dangerously close. Their breaths mingled. The hall, the council, the world beyond the chamber faded until all that remained was the pull between them—bond, proximity, unspoken desire.
"You are alive," he murmured, voice rough. "And you are mine to protect."
Her chest ached. Not with anger, not with fear—but with something entirely new. A sharp, thrilling, dangerous longing she had never allowed herself to feel.
Before she could respond, the chamber doors slammed open. Reinforcements from the council's younger faction poured in, weapons raised. The moment was broken, the tension snapped.
Kael spun, placing himself in front of Elara again. "They want a fight?" he growled. "Then I'll give them one."
Elara's hands shot up instinctively, lunar energy flaring into brilliant arcs around them both. The bond pulsed, violent and untamed, a shared heartbeat of power and proximity.
The council had underestimated her again.
And Kael had underestimated nothing.
For a single, fleeting moment, they stood together—not just mate and king, not just queen-to-be and protector—but two forces intertwined, dangerous, unstoppable, and bound by something far stronger than either had expected.
The council would pay for this.
The bond hummed insistently, almost sentient, reminding them both: proximity. Power. Choice.
And the almost-kiss—their first brush with desire—lingered like a spark in the shadows.