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Draven

A pack.

I was still consumed by the simple word. Enraged by it.

Eryx was gone to begin the hunt, but I would need to join him soon. They weren’t the first frostbeasts to act out of turn. I had already spent the entire week going from village to village, hunting the monsters that were getting more vicious and more cunning by the day.

Bitterness seeped into my chest, twisting like an Unseelie dagger.

Was that the Shard Mother’s plan? To let the hoards consume Winter until there were no fae left?

I glanced back down at my bride, the promised solution to the curse plaguing the land. Allegedly. Though, so far, all she had proven to be was a massive pain in my ass.

She lifted her icicle eyes to mine, questions churning in her gaze that I had no intention of answering.

Fate might have chosen her as my bride, but I wasn’t sure I trusted the Shard Mother, let alone my new very difficult wife. Especially when she insisted on blaming me for the chains that shackled us both and pretended she had a right to the kingdom I had bled for.

She pursed her painted lips when I didn’t expound, and I forcibly wrenched my gaze from the sight. I could still taste them on my tongue, still feel the heady pull of her in my blood, the inexplicable desire to claim the body that was still only inches from mine.

I took a step back to put distance between us, trying to rein some of the mana back into my veins.

It was growing stronger, wilder, and her proximity only seemed to make it flare more. Though whether it was her own mana that incited mine so intensely, the marriage bond, or her generally infuriating nature, I couldn’t say.

“Why would Tharnoks be traveling in packs?” she finally asked.

“The Shard Mother works in mysterious ways.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my tone.

Of course, I did have some idea of why, but I had already shared more than I wanted to with my reluctant bride, and only because she had rightly pointed out that she couldn’t handle herself at court.

I would likely have to leave again soon, and everything they could hold over her head would be another weapon in their arsenal.

But more than that…she didn’t need information to do what she had come to do. We just needed to get through the Solstice.

Then…I would worry about what came after that later . When the kingdom was stable.

She shifted irritably, her hands digging deeper into her ridiculous arm muff she’d clung to all evening, fidgeting like she had all throughout dinner. Had she not understood that the harpies at dinner would use her every misstep as a way to undermine the throne?

Of course not. She didn’t have to worry about that when she wasn’t the one who would pay the price. If the kingdom crumbled, I would be the one holding it together while she sat back and judged me for how I accomplished that feat.

Traitors toppled monarchies, but she could rest happy in her righteous indignation at my casual maiming , safe from the knowledge of how many of the people at that table were already plotting, praying that the Shard Mother would lift them up in our stead.

And that was without the land devolving into chaos and the Unseelie waiting at our gates.

“If you can’t refrain from fondling it, leave the fur in your closet,” I told her. “The last thing you need is another weakness for them to exploit.”

“Or you,” she snapped, removing her hand from the arm muff just to tug on a cobalt strand of hair.

Shards, she was too unrefined to be Queen. The court would eat her alive in my absence, even with Nevara at her side. And Lord Redthorne, of course, solicitous soul that he was.

Everly certainly had appreciated his assistance earlier—and everything else about him, if her ogling was anything to go by.

“I haven’t begun to exploit your weaknesses,” I growled.

“Not like they will. And lest you think your smirking savior is exempt, let me assure you that the Autumn Court plots even more than ours does. So if you should still find yourself in need of a tour of the palace, Nevara will be more than happy to oblige you.”

She parted her full lips in ire, letting out a sound between a laugh and a scoff.

I despised the way I instinctively tracked the minute changes of her expression.

Whether her lips were pursed in thought or twisted with fury or smirking around her latest sarcastic remark, my gaze was drawn intrinsically to her mouth.

Or her pale blue eyes that burned warmer than they should, or any number of other assets that were put on display in the gown that looked like it was painted onto her shapely body.

Clearly, the mana wanted us to play nice, but it didn’t have to put up with her. Only I did.

“When you took my choice of husband from me, I wasn’t aware you had taken my choice of companions as well.” She stepped closer to me, the bare space between us charged with all the energy I had come to loathe.

“Companions?” I echoed her, voice ragged with disbelief and something else I wanted to acknowledge less.

An unwanted surge of possession coursed through me, just as it had at the table. I had half a mind to tell her about a quirk of our rings, one that would keep her from having any companions outside of her husband, but she didn’t need to know more about them than she already did.

“Shards,” she cursed, eyes blazing with defiance. “I meant friends, though why it should matter to you…”

Why it should matter…

I loomed closer to her until I was assailed by the pervasive scent of her, the contradiction of moonshade berries and frostlilies and something I couldn’t identify, like the first snowfall in a forest. It was maddening.

“Because,” I replied, biting out the words, “you belong to me now, whether either of us likes it or not.”

Her eyes darkened, her body leaning closer to mine even as she shook her head.

“Caging something does not make it yours.” Her breath was warm where it mingled with mine, carrying the faint scent of berry wine.

I let out a bitter huff of air, following her eyes as they drifted down to my mouth. “If there is a cage, Wife, rest assured we have both been locked in.”

Everly’s disdain pulsed through the air, edged by something I couldn’t afford to decipher. Her feelings were always that way, potent enough to flare in her mana.

I had felt her fury even in the throne room when she stood among hundreds of fae. The other brides were simpering or terrified, but Everly’s terror had been buried under layers of rage and…accusation.

I spun on my heel, storming back into my room before I caved to every last carnal demand of the bond.

Everything would have been easier if I had gotten one of the willing brides, though in hindsight, Nevara had tried to warn me about Everly in her irritating cryptic way.

“If the Shard Mother has chosen my bride, why do I have to open my palace to every scheming female in the kingdom?” I demanded.

Even then, I had known what the day would look like. Some hungry for power, others treating it like a death sentence. Both dismal prospects for a bond I would be stuck in for life.

Nevara sighed. “I don’t know, Draven. I don’t See everything. All I can tell you is that you need to call them here, and I will know when it is time. One will be plotting against you. A second is consorting with the Unseelie. The third will be your bride.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t get them mixed up on the day,” I bit back sarcastically, clenching my hands at the prospect. “It would be unfortunate if I executed my match and married a traitor.”

Nevara smirked. “You might feel differently after you meet her.”

If the comment had felt mysterious then, it certainly made sense now. Not a day went by that I didn’t wish I had taken my chances with one of the traitors.