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Raelan

I KNOCK SOFTLY ON THE king’s study door while tugging my purple-and-gold-trimmed uniform back into place with the other.

I hate that damn wind tunnel. Always have. I’d usually take the stairs—all three hundred of them—but this might be urgent, and I wanted to get here as quickly as possible.

“Enter,” comes the king’s low voice.

The guards stationed on either side of the door give me looks at I grip the handle and push into the study. Their eyes are still following me as I close it firmly behind me.

I straighten up and clasp my hands behind my back. King Jorvick Ravenscroft stands at the window overlooking the gardens, a small smile on his face. He’s wearing his leisure clothing: a fine long-sleeved tunic beneath a gilded vest, simple brown trousers, and a mantle trimmed in velvet. He doesn’t look up at me, his pale eyes trained on something outside the window.

I clear my throat. “You sent for me, Your Majesty?”

I was in the training yard going through swordsmanship drills with some of the younger guards when His Majesty’s messenger arrived with word the king needed to see me. I returned to the barracks promptly and cleaned myself up before making haste here. But now, seeing the king standing contentedly at the window, I’m wondering just how urgent it was.

“Yes,” King Jorvick says. “And you’re just in time. She’ll be up here any minute now.” He finally shifts his gaze to me.

My expression remains neutral as I ask, “She, Your Majesty?”

“Alina,” he says, stepping away from the window and toward the large hearth burning along the back wall.

At the sound of her name, my stomach goes tight, my spine pulling me a bit more rigid.

Princess Alina Ravenscroft. The king’s granddaughter, a talented but untrained frost witch, and—

“She just received her acceptance letter from Coven Crest,” the king goes on to explain, “and she’ll be up here soon, begging me to let her go.” He chuckles and holds his hands out toward the crackling flames in the hearth. Despite the spring warmth outside, the castle remains chilly, and our fires still burn. “And if I’m to let her attend,” the king continues, “I’ll need you to go with her.”

Me. Go with her ?

My heart picks up its pace. I struggle to keep my face blank.

This cannot be happening .

“Am I the best candidate for the job, Your Majesty?” I ask, though I know I shouldn’t, and I very nearly cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth. Who am I to question our king? But I can’t just agree to this without at least trying to push back. I can’t go with Her Highness to Coven Crest. I’d have to be near her, talk to her, smell her—

“I’d choose no one else,” the king says, voice sharp. His eyes flick to mine, and he straightens up. “Are you questioning my judgment, Sir Ashvale?”

“No, Your Majesty. Never.”

His expression turns curious. “Then what’s the problem?”

I clench my teeth. I can’t tell him what the real problem is. He might have me thrown out of the castle, or worse—have my head on a chopping block. But I can’t let that happen. My family depends on me and on the king. They need me here.

And I’ll do whatever I have to if it means keeping my family safe.

I’ll even watch over Princess Alina Ravenscroft.

Fuck.

“There is no problem,” I say firmly. “I would be honored to accompany Her Highness to Coven Crest. It would be a great privilege.” Quickly, I bow my head, hoping the king doesn’t see the tension in my jaw.

My head is still bowed when a light knock sounds on the door.

“Grandfather?” Alina calls out. “May I come in?”

My body goes warm at the sound of her voice .

He bids her enter. And as soon as she steps foot into the room, filling it with her sweet scent, my beast thrashes inside me. Because it wants her. It needs her. But I refuse to give in. For three years, ever since she turned fifteen and the magic between us came alive, I’ve been fighting my instincts, going against everything natural in order to keep the truth locked deep, deep inside.

The truth is that Alina Ravenscroft is my fated mate, the only woman my beast truly hungers for. She’s the one I think of when I lie between other women’s thighs, the one I dream of while asleep in my bed in the barracks.

She also has very little awareness that I even exist.

I didn’t think I’d ever find my mate, so when the connection first flared to life, I thought I was dying, thought something was terribly wrong with me. When I told my mother of the symptoms I was having, she explained what it was—the mate bond—and warned me to keep it hidden lest the king discover the truth.

Somehow, I don’t think he’d much like the idea of a dragon claiming his granddaughter. If I were in his position, I can’t say I’d be too fond of the idea either.

Alina ignores me, like she always does. I could probably count the number of words we’ve exchanged on one hand. I’m a nobody to her, just another one of the palace guards, a knight who stands beside doorways and patrols hallways late at night.

No one.

The thought makes my heart twist, but I’m too busy fighting my dragon down to pay the hurt much attention.

If not for the chain of steel wrapped around my neck, I’d be bursting out of my skin, filling this entire study with glossy black scales and tearing clean through the bricks and mortar that hold this tower aloft in the spring sky.

I have the king to thank for that. One of his witches imbued the links with binding magic to keep my dragon from escaping. As a boy, I lived in constant fear of transforming on accident, of hurting those around me. Like my father. But now I have nothing to fear; my dragon is locked inside, incapable of pushing past the magic’s defenses.

Though that doesn’t mean the pain isn’t excruciating when it tries.

Usually, my dragon is quiet, used to being kept in chains. But when Alina comes around, everything changes.

Pain stabs through my chest, and I have to fight with everything I’ve got not to show the king and the princess how uncomfortable I am.

Stop! I snap at my beast. But it doesn’t help. Never does.

The dragon is ferocious. And it’s livid at being kept from her.

My fingers curl into fists at my sides. It’s taking all my focus to remain standing and not double over in pain.

“I brought your tea and cake,” Alina says. She moves toward the low table by the hearth, where King Jorvick is still standing. Every move she makes, every swish of her sky-blue hair, sends her scent swirling through the room. I’ve never been locked in so tight a space with her before, have never been subjected to torture such as this.

And if I have to accompany her to the academy, follow her around day and night...

I’m filled with dread at the very prospect .

But inside me, my dragon rejoices. It wants to be with her, wherever she is. It doesn’t understand why I have to stay away from her.

I remain standing near the door as Alina pours two cups of tea—we guards aren’t meant to be seen, aren’t meant to be offered tea or cake or anything else—and hands one to the king. They make small talk for a moment, but I can tell Alina is antsy to get to the point. She’s restless, fidgety. Her nails tap a rapid rhythm against the tea saucer in her hands. Finally, she’s out with it.

“Grandfather, I have to tell you something . . .”

The king gives her a small smile. “What’s that?”

Alina bites her lip. The small gesture makes heat curl through me, and I tear my eyes away, focusing my energy on anything else besides looking at her. Suddenly, the paintings hanging on the king’s walls are excessively interesting. I start counting the clouds in a brush-stroked sky, the fluffy white sheep dotting the pasture.

One, two, three . . .

“I applied for Coven Crest Academy,” she says slowly. “And I got in.”

“Coven Crest? Is that so?” King Jorvick hums and sips his tea.

And Alina must notice something is off, because in my periphery—I’m still trying to count sheep—she narrows her blue eyes at him. “You... You already knew, didn’t you?” She drops the innocent-granddaughter act and huffs out an annoyed puff of air. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I should ask you the same question,” he says. “I thought you knew you could always come to me. ”

Alina settles herself into an ornate chair before the fire and crosses her legs, her long skirts rustling.

I notice now that she’s not wearing shoes, only stockings. My gaze makes it from her toes to her ankle before I pull myself together and resume staring at the pastoral painting hanging directly across the room from me.

I’ve lost count of the sheep, so I start again.

“Well, I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” Alina says. “And I thought if I got accepted, I’d have more sway over your decision.”

King Jorvick huffs out a laugh. “You’ve been paying attention during your persuasion lessons, it would seem.”

Alina’s light brown cheeks grow round as she smiles. “Always.” She plates a slice of cake and takes a bite. “So,” she says after swallowing, “can I go?”

King Jorvick lets out a long sigh. Then he looks at me.

And Alina’s gaze follows, a furrow forming in her brow, like she’s only just noticed me standing beside the door.

I’m drawn to look at her. And when her eyes meet mine, heat rolls from the base of my neck all the way down my spine. I clench my fists harder, digging my nails into my palms, seeking some point of focus so as not to become lost in the blue of her gaze.

“You may,” the king says. “On one condition.”

Alina’s focus snaps to him, and the break in eye contact allows me to draw a breath.

One of her brows arches in the corner. “The condition being?”

King Jorvick gestures to me with his glistening teacup. “Sir Raelan Ashvale is to accompany you.”