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H e looks at me with bored amusement, like I just told a bad joke. There’s a smile on his face — polite, perfect. But his eyes… his eyes are sharp. A warning. Cold steel in golden light.

“What did you just say?” His voice is slow, measured. Mocking. Like I’m a child who said something foolish and he’s humoring me before I’m dismissed.

“You’re my mate.” I whisper it. A prayer. A mistake.

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I shouldn’t have said them.

Not here. Not now. The ballroom is too bright, too crowded, and filled with the kind of people who feast on weakness.

But I couldn't stop myself. The moment he walked in, my soul screamed.

The bond ignited so fast it scorched me. Couldn't he feel it, too?

He laughs — quiet, empty. The sound slices through the growing hush of the crowd. Heads turn. Conversations die. I feel a bead of sweat trail down my spine, my wolf coiled inside me, on high alert. “ Something is wrong ,” she whispers.

He leans in slightly, his voice dipping, but not enough. Not enough to hide us from the ears now trained on every word.

“I don’t have a mate,” he says. The amusement is gone. What’s left is frost. “Everyone knows this. Maybe this is your idea of a joke, or maybe you're just trying to climb your way into power. A power you clearly don’t understand.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My lips tremble. I can feel my pulse in my throat, in my ears, in my chest.

His eyes harden.

“Even if, by some miracle, I had a mate… it wouldn’t be a pathetic, weak little thing like you.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd. I flinch. My chest tightens, like a noose just slipped around my ribs.

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear. On purpose.

My eyes blur, but I don't let the tears fall. Not yet.

“What even are you?” he sneers, looking me up and down like filth clinging to his boots. “There’s not even an ounce of power in you, and you dare approach me?”

A single heartbeat of silence. And then a quiet, cruel chuckle comes from somewhere in the crowd. Snickers follow. Whispers. Eyes on me like knives.

My heart shatters, the bond twisting in my chest like barbed wire. My wolf whimpers inside me, clawing at the walls of my soul. “ He’s ours,” she says. “ Why doesn’t he feel it? Why won’t he see?”

He takes a step forward.

“You leave now,” he says, voice low and dangerous, “or I’ll have my men drag you out.”

I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. My body starts to shake. I take a step back, but he catches it — the fear. His finger twitches. For one terrifying moment, I think he might strike me. The king. My mate. The man fate gave me.

Then her hand slides into his — small, pale, perfect. The woman beside him. Regal. Red-haired. Radiating so much power my spine almost bows.

“Draven, darling,” she says sweetly, her voice a melody. “Ignore her. We have more important things to do.”

He’s still staring at me.

And in his eyes now? Something darker. Like he does feel it, and he hates it.

She tugs at him gently. He looks down at her and softens, smiling like she’s the only one that matters.

“I’ll be right with you, love.”

And then he kisses her softly.

That’s when it happens.

A searing pain rips through my chest, folding me in half. I clutch at my heart, my knees buckling. The bond is burning, fracturing, howling. My soul screams in agony.

A tear slips down my cheek. I meet his gaze one last time.

He looks at me like I’m nothing. Like I’m a bug that should be squashed.

“You’re still here.” His voice is flat, final. “Guards. Take her away. I’ll deal with her later.”

They come. Strong hands grip my arms.

And I let them. Because I’m too stunned, too embarrassed, too much in pain to fight them. No one has ever rejected their mate. It’s the law.