Page 26

Raelan

SOMEHOW, I FIND MYSELF IN Alina’s dormitory, seated on one of the couches as the fire sends heat curling through the room. The others haven’t returned yet, so for now, Alina and I are alone.

Apart from Yuki, that is. And I imagine Maeve’s snake is around here somewhere.

Yuki hops up onto the couch opposite mine, his dark eyes watching me closely. He makes a small sound, like a mixture between a whimper and a whine, and Alina glances over and gives him a quick smile, making me wonder what it is he said to her.

Alina fetches one of her schoolbooks and flips through it, then seems to find what she’s looking for. Setting the book down on one of the desks pressed against the wall, she begins to gather her ingredients, though I’ve no idea what they are. Different smells float through the room as she pours and sprinkles and stirs. The whole time, I watch her face.

Her lips are puckered in concentration, her brow furrowed. She’s not yet combed her hair, and seeing how messy it is reminds me of how it felt to tangle my fingers in those soft strands. I had to try so hard not to hurt her, not to thrust myself down her throat. And when she looked up at me, a trail of my cum tracing its way down the corner of her mouth, I felt I would burst free of my chain and carry her away right then and there.

As if to remind me what a fucking idiot I am, the burns on my neck send heat and pain screaming through me. I wince and curl my fingers into tight fists, tearing my gaze away from Alina.

Now that the mead has been burned off and my dick finally had a release, I’m left feeling like I made a huge mistake.

Kissing Alina was one thing, and that alone would’ve been enough to get me in trouble with the king. But now I’ve put a finger inside her, have felt her lips on my dick, have done things a knight should never do to the princess he’s sworn to protect.

And I’m afraid of what might happen next. I’m afraid I don’t have nearly as much self-control as I thought I did.

“Here we go,” Alina says, coming to join me in the sitting area. She pulls a plush purple footstool over and takes a seat in front of me, scooting close and settling herself between my legs. She abandoned her heeled boots at the door when we first stepped into the dorm, letting out a sigh as they dropped to the floor, and now she’s barefoot, her toenails painted a deep shade of blue.

It’s become increasingly clear to me that she doesn’t realize how much is at stake here, least of all her own safety. Thus far, the charmed chain hasn’t failed me, but I don’t know how much longer it’ll be able to withstand the beatings I’m putting it through. The witch who created it for the king told us that there may come a time when I need a new one, with fresh magic, and I fear that time may be drawing near.

But mostly, I fear what might happen if I allow myself to keep pushing it to the brink, to the point where it shatters and frees my dragon. That can’t ever happen around Alina. I won’t let it.

Alina settles her mixing bowl in her lap, then reaches up to tie her hair into a knot at the base of her neck. Her eyes meet mine. “May I see?” she asks, gesturing to my throat.

I swallow hard, hands still clenched on my knees. Then I nod once. “Just be careful not to take it off,” I warn her.

The smile she gives me is small and soft. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Tipping my head back slightly, I give her access to my throat. She dips a few fingers into the salve she made, using her other hand to lift the chain delicately, moving it away from the fresh burns it left on my skin.

When she sees them, she winces.

“Raelan, these...” There’s a moment of hesitation. Her brow furrows, a frown tugging on her lips. “These look bad. They must hurt terribly.”

I make a small sound in my throat. Yes, they hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of keeping myself from her, the pain of resisting my instincts and the bond that draws me to her time and time again.

But I don’t say this.

Alina gets to work, gently applying the salve to my burns. At first, the concoction stings, making me grind my teeth, but after the initial discomfort, it starts to give off a cooling effect, and I feel the bunching of my shoulders start to relax.

While Alina is focused on tending to me, I allow my eyes to flick down to her, and I wonder what she might do if I finally came clean about my secret.

She already learned one, but how would she feel about the other? Would she feel repulsed by the idea that my beast wants to claim her? Would she tell her grandfather at the first opportunity, thereby having me thrown from the guard?

Somehow, I think that last idea implausible. Still, I can’t help but to wonder how she’d react to the truth.

I almost want to tell her. It wouldn’t take much. All I’d have to do is open my mouth and say it. It would only take four words.

You’re my fated mate.

As the idea crosses my mind, my dragon stirs. I hate denying it like this, denying the truth of my being and my blood. Yet I can’t bring myself to do it. And as Alina sits back and settles the chain gently into place over the already-drying salve, I feel yet again what a fool I am.

I can’t do this, can’t allow this to go any further .

But I also know that I am weak to resist her. My attempts at keeping my distance from her—both physically and emotionally—have all been futile.

And with a sickening turn of my stomach, I know what I must do.

No matter how much pain it causes us.

ALMOST AS SOON AS ALINA finishes tending to my wounds, her roommates return to the dormitory, and I bid them good night swiftly, trying to ignore their curious gazes as I slip from the room and climb the stairs to my own dorm.

Once inside, I close the door and lock it—though I’ve since learned that Alina must have a way of unlocking it, considering I found her in here the night of my transformation. With the door barred, I press my back against it and slide down until I’m sitting on the cold stone floor.

The night flickers through my mind: Alina’s hand on mine, the moonlight cutting through the glass ceiling of the greenhouse, the slick warmth between her thighs as I slid my finger inside her.

Being around her is intoxicating in a way I was not prepared for. And I know this was all a mistake. Not just kissing her and pushing my hands through her hair and allowing her to please me until I poured down her throat—it was a mistake long before then. Now I must make it right, before anything else happens.

Before I hurt her.

I know that this may threaten the agreement I have with His Majesty, but if I go to him with this information, rather than allowing something to find its way back to him secondhand, I can control the narrative, control what I say and how I say it. And I can only hope that he’ll understand and that he’ll uphold his part of the bargain: keeping my mother and sisters safe.

Even if he has to send me away, even if I never see Alina again, I have to do this.

For her sake and for mine.

Even though it’s the last thing I want to do.

My mind is made up.

I push to my feet and stride across the room to the small desk near the window. I take a seat, light a candle, and unroll a fresh sheet of parchment. It lies there on the desk, staring up at me in the flickering candlelight. Clenching my jaw, I reach for a quill and dip it into a well of ink.

Then I begin to write.

I tell the king the truth: that Alina is my fated mate, that I’ve known it since she turned fifteen, that I thought I could carry out this duty without faltering in my conviction. But I tell him I can do so no longer. Someone must relieve me of this post, and they must do so swiftly, before Alina and I can grow any closer.

Before I do something I can’t take back.

I don’t tell him about our stolen kisses, and I certainly don’t mention what happened in the greenhouse tonight. But everything else is laid bare on the page. And though every drop of ink is a physical pain pressing against my bones, begging me not to separate myself from her, I don’t allow myself to stop .

Because I have to think of Alina as well, have to remember what my father did to my mother. And I have to protect her from danger—namely, me.

I sign my name at the bottom of the page, a rough scratch of the quill against the parchment. Once the ink has dried, I fold it in three and seal it with melted wax.

Letter in hand, I depart my room, pausing only briefly outside Alina’s door to ensure all is well, then continue down the spiraling stone stairs, moving through the shafts of colorful moonlight that gleam through the stained glass windows. It is late, but many students still roam the halls—it is Samhain, after all.

Charmed candles float through the entrance hall, and I brush one aside, sending it drifting off in a new direction, before pushing through one of the doors and stepping into the crisp cold of the night. The air smells of mead and woodsmoke, and light from the bonfire casts moving shadows through the courtyard.

I make my way toward the stables, which are situated on the outskirts of the castle’s courtyard. Inside, it smells of hay and dust. The horses have already been fed, and the stablemaster is sweeping the aisle, whistling to himself. When he sees me, he jerks upright, then gives me a clumsy bow.

“S-sir,” he says, “how can I help you?”

“I need a letter delivered. And I need to ensure utmost caution. Do you have a messenger suited to the task?”

The stablemaster nods quickly. “I do, sir. Very trusted lad. He’ll get your letter where it needs to go.”

“Good.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a few eldertokens. It’s significantly more currency than this task requires, but I want to ensure discretion, and coin has a way of achieving this.

I place the letter in the man’s outstretched hand, then drop the three coins atop it. “One for you, two for the carrier. No one else learns of this.”

“Of course not. And where’s the message to be carried, sir?” he asks, closing his fingers around the letter carefully so as not to crumple it.

I draw myself up and take a deep breath. No turning back now.

“Ravenscroft Castle. To His Majesty the king.”