Page 25

Chapter Eleven

G riffin Wild

The whispers follow me through the palace corridors like shadows—hushed voices falling silent as I approach, only to resume with greater fervor once I pass. It’s still a little less than week until the ceremony, but the palace is rife with gossip.

I pay them little mind until I hear Maya’s name.

“—sleeping with the human scientist. I heard—”

“—in his bed. Aria saw her leaving his chambers at dawn—”

My steps falter. Not because I’m ashamed—far from it—but because I know how cruel these rumors can be. How quickly they can mutate into something vicious. The noble families have always been skilled at turning gossip into weapons.

I’m about to continue on my way when Elder Vane steps into my path, his expression carefully composed into something resembling concern.

“Your Majesty,” he says with a bow that’s just a beat too short to be properly respectful. “May I have a word?”

I incline my head slightly, betraying none of the wariness I feel. “Of course, Elder Vane.”

He guides me to a small alcove off the main corridor, far enough from passing ears to offer some privacy. The calculated look in his eyes tells me exactly what this is about before he even speaks.

“I understand you’ve been...reacquainting yourself with the palace,” he begins delicately. “And its residents.”

I remain silent, watching him.

“It’s only natural, of course, after such a long absence,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “to seek comfort wherever one may find it.”

I resist the urge to bare my teeth. “Is there a point to this conversation, Elder Vane?”

He straightens slightly, his mask of concern slipping to reveal the ambition beneath. “My daughter, Aria, has grown into a remarkable young woman during your absence, Sire. She would make an excellent queen. A worthy mate for the king. The council would overwhelmingly support such a union.”

“I see.”

When I don’t offer anything further, his expression tenses. “What I’m trying to say, Your Majesty, is that it would be for the best if you sent that human scientist elsewhere. Her presence in the palace is unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” I ask quietly, dangerously.

He waves a dismissive hand. “She’s a temporary diversion, I’m sure. Pleasant enough while you readjust to your position. No one would begrudge you your...entertainment. But when it comes to choosing a queen—”

“I’ve already found my queen,” I interrupt him, my voice deceptively soft.

Elder Vane’s expression freezes. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“Maya Sorin is my fated mate.”

The words land between us like a gauntlet thrown. His eyes widen, then narrow with calculation.

“A human?” He almost spits the word. “As your fated mate? That’s...unfortunate.”

“I consider it anything but,” I reply evenly.

“The council will never accept a human queen,” he says, his voice hardening. “It’s unprecedented. Unacceptable. My family’s support—”

“Your family’s support is appreciated but not required,” I cut him off, my patience rapidly thinning. “Have you forgotten what occurred when Cedric Raine’s council challenged his choice of mate?”

Elder Vane pales visibly. Everyone knows what happened to the nobles who tried to separate Cedric from Leanna. The king of the North isn’t known for his mercy.

“Are you threatening me?” he asks, voice suddenly tight.

“I’m merely reminding you of recent history,” I say calmly. “And I suggest you consider very carefully whether threatening to withdraw support from your rightful king over his choice of mate constitutes treason under our laws.”

He takes an involuntary step back, his face flushing with a mixture of fear and anger. “I have only ever acted in the kingdom’s best interests.”

“Then, continue to do so,” I advise, “by accepting the mate the Goddess has chosen for me. Unless you believe your judgment is superior to hers?”

He doesn’t answer, which is wise.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, inclining my head with perfect formal courtesy, “I have duties to attend to.”

I leave him standing there, rigid with barely contained fury.

I only make it one day before Aria tracks me down in my office, the one that Erik has more than happily vacated.

“Griffin?” Aria calls softly, her voice catching just enough to sound vulnerable. “Can we talk?”

She enters the room, her dark hair long and flowing, her low-cut dress a beautiful red color, revealing her more than ample bosom. She approaches me, her eyes wide and anxious, her hands clasped demurely before her.

“I heard Father approached you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “About us.”

I nod once.

Her voice is gentle, placating. “Griffin, you and I—We’ve always been meant for each other. Our families have planned our mating since we were children. I understand that things have been hard since you returned and that it was that human girl who was by your side when you escaped captivity—”

“I wouldn’t have escaped if it hadn’t been for Maya,” I say coolly.

Her eyes tighten around the corners. “I’m sure that’s what she would like you to believe.

I have heard the rumors, Griffin. You’ve been intimate with her.

I know you may not see it, but she’s taking advantage of you.

I don’t mind if you seek to relieve yourself in her company, but you and I are a good fit.

We always have been. We were always close, and we were always meant to be together. You know that.”

“Things change,” I say simply. “We were childhood friends, but that is all.”

She shakes her head, a strand of perfectly arranged dark hair falling artfully across her cheek. “Some things don’t change. Not this. Not us.” Her voice drops, intimate and pleading. “I’ve saved myself for you, Griffin. All these years, while you were gone, I waited. I remained pure.”

The implication hanging in her words ignites a slow-burning anger in my chest. “Unlike her?” I ask quietly.

Aria’s eyes flash, the mask of vulnerability slipping for just a moment. “Well, it’s no secret she has been with others. Who knows how many? She’s human. Their kind don’t value loyalty the way we do.”

My control, already strained by days of kingdom politics, finally snaps. “You spread the rumors about her,” I say, the realization crystallizing. “You made sure everyone knew she left my chambers.”

Aria’s eyes harden, the softness fading to reveal ambition and insult. Her chin lifts defiantly. “I merely shared what I saw. The kingdom deserves to know what kind of woman their king is entertaining. A human who can never understand our ways. Who will bring weakness to our bloodline. Who—”

“Enough,” I growl, the sound low and dangerous enough to make her take a stumbling step back.

“Maya Sorin is my fated mate, chosen by the Goddess herself. She is brave and brilliant and loyal, and she endured months of captivity to save my life. She will be my queen, and she will have your respect.”

Aria’s composure crumbles, her eyes filling with tears that I suspect are as calculated as everything else about her. “You can’t mean that. She has bewitched you, or—”

“The only one attempting to manipulate me here is you,” I say coldly. “And I suggest you stop now, before you say something truly unforgivable.”

Her face twists, the pretty mask finally falling away completely. “She’ll ruin you,” Aria hisses. “A human queen? The kingdom will never accept her. They’ll undermine you at every turn. They’ll—”

“Leave,” I say, my voice deadly quiet. “Now.”

Something in my expression must finally convince her, because she steps back, her face pale with shock.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Aria Vane realizes she has miscalculated badly.

Without another word, she turns and hurries away, leaving me standing alone in my office, the taste of anger still bitter on my tongue.

Damn it! Damn it all to hell!

I should have known. I should have been prepared.

Of course the elders won’t attack me directly. They learned from what happened with Cedric. No, they’re going after Maya, surrounding her with rumors that will make her being here unbearable, make me unbearable in her eyes.

The tension remains with me throughout the day, coiling tighter as evening approaches. Because beneath the anger is a deeper worry: I haven’t seen Maya since dawn. According to the lab staff, she worked until late afternoon, then returned to her cottage.

She’s been like this since our night together. For three days and three nights, she has avoided me successfully.

But not anymore.

If she won’t come to me, then I’ll go to her.

I give Maya until midnight, pacing my chambers like a caged animal as the hours crawl by. When the palace finally falls silent, I make my way to her cottage, moving like a shadow through the grounds.

I expect to find her outside, wrapped in her blankets under the stars. But the garden is empty, the grass undisturbed. Through the cottage window, I can see a faint light glowing in her bedroom.

She’s trying to sleep indoors.

I know what that means: she’s deliberately avoiding me, pushing herself to endure the confines of walls rather than risk encountering me in the open air. The knowledge aches deep in my chest.

I’m about to turn away, to give her the space she clearly wants, when I catch the sound—a sharp, ragged inhale, followed by another, and another. The shallow, panicked breathing of someone struggling for air.

For a moment, I go still. And then, through our fragile mate bond, I feel a sick fear that is not my own. In extremely tense situations, the fated bond between two unmarked mates can still project heightened emotions.

In an instant, I’m at her window. Without a second thought, I force it open and leap inside.

Maya is sitting bolt upright in her bed, knees drawn to her chest, one hand clutching at her throat as she gasps for breath. Her eyes are wide and unfocused, her face pale with terror.

“Maya,” I say softly, moving to her side. “Maya, look at me.”