The next day...
The knock ca at sunrise.
I was already awake.
I dressed quickly in the clothes left for : black fitted trousers, a high-collared tunic trimd with silver, a dark cloak fastening at my throat.
Simple. Practical. Strong.
The blade at my thigh felt reassuring as I strapped it on.
I opened the door.
Cassius stood there.
He gave a brief nod. "Co."
That was all.
I followed him without a word through the stone corridors of the Obsidian Throne.
When the great black iron doors of the Throne Room, (that’s what they called it) swung open, the world seed to hold its breath.
The room was vast and shadowed, lit only by high windows and the flickering of low torches.
At the far end, raised above the world on a dais of black stone, he sat.
The King.
He wasn’t draped in robes or weighed down with golden crowns.
He didn’t need them.
He wore simple black, cut perfectly to his broad shoulders, his posture loose but deadly.
His dark hair was swept back from a brutally handso face — sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw shadowed with a day’s stubble, and piercing gray eyes that seed carved from steel.
Cold.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
The weight of his gaze pinned in place the mont I stepped forward.
Cassius stopped at my side, but this was my mont.
I moved forward alone.
Each step echoed in the silent hall.
When I reached the base of the dais, I dropped briefly to one knee. "King." I greeted respectfully.
The King did not tell to rise.
I rose anyway.
Our eyes locked.
Neither of us looked away.
He said nothing at first.
Just watched.
asured.
Judged.
Finally, his voice broke the silence.
Sharp.
Quiet.
Undeniable.
"You are Athena."
Not a question.
A fact.
I nodded once.
He descended the steps slowly, no hurry in his stride, the air around him getting tighter with each movent.
He stopped in front of , towering by a few inches, close enough that I caught the faint, clean scent of wood and fruit that clung to him.
Still, he said nothing.
He studied the way a wolf studies another wolf—deciding whether to fight, to spare, or to recruit.
When he finally spoke again, his words were few.
"You survived Silvermoon.
You defied your Alpha.
You broke your chain."
His gaze burned into mine.
I didn’t flinch.
A slow, dangerous smile ghosted his lips—gone almost before it appeared.
"I like wolves who refuse to kneel. I want you to choose to kneel instead... to ."
He lifted a hand.
And sohow, standing there with my heart steady and my spine straight,
I knew—
I would never bow again.
But I would choose.
Deliberately, I stepped forward and placed my hand lightly against his.
The King’s hand closed around mine — cool, strong, absolute.
He leaned in slightly, his voice barely a breath against the crown of my head.
"Serve well," he said, "and I will raise you higher than any man dared."
Then he released and turned without waiting to see if I followed.
Because of course I would.
Cassius lingered nearby, arms crossed, his dark gaze never leaving .
The King sat once again on the black stone throne, one hand draped lazily over the armrest, his sharp grey eyes unreadable.
The King spoke without preamble.
"I have a task for you."
No buildup.
No soft words.
Only orders.
I stepped forward slightly, standing at the base of the dais.
"An envoy is leaving in three days for the Kingdom of Raventhorn," the King said, his voice low but resonant. "They believe it is a trade delegation."
He smiled faintly, a cold slice of amusent.
"It is not."
The King rose slowly, descending the steps again with the easy, lethal grace of a predator.
"My brother rules Raventhorn," he continued. "A weak king... but not a stupid one."
His gray eyes burned into mine.
"He plots against ."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
He spoke it as if it were a certainty already written in blood.
"You will go," the King said. "You will find out what he plans. And you will bring back proof for ."
He stopped directly before .
"I want to trust that this is sothing you can do right?"
The weight of the command was absolute.
Failure was not an option.
Neither was refusal.
I inclined my head once. "I can do it."
A glimr of satisfaction crossed the King’s face—a brief flash of approval, then gone.
He turned slightly, nodding toward the shadows where two figures stood.
Cassius and Lucas.
"You will not go alone," the King said.
Before I could object, he continued smoothly.
"Alpha Lucas will accompany you."
I stiffened slightly, glancing toward Cassius instinctively.
Cassius’s face barely moved—but I felt the disapproval radiating off him like a storm barely held at bay.
He took a step forward, his voice low and asured.
"With respect, my King," Cassius said, "I would be better suited to—"
The King’s gaze cut to him—sharp and final.
Cassius fell silent.
"Lucas will go," the King repeated. "I have decided on that. There’s sothing else I need you to do for here."
Nothing more.
No explanation.
No argunt tolerated.
Cassius bowed his head stiffly.
"Yes, my King."
Lucas stepped out of the shadows, a faint, amused smile playing at his lips as if he enjoyed every ripple of what was happening around him.
He looked at then.
Straight at .
Just that cold, sharp curiosity.
The King’s voice rumbled low, final.
"You will leave at first light."
And just like that—the conversation was over.
The King turned away, climbing back up his black stone steps, his cloak trailing like spilled ink across the dais.
Dismissed.
I stood there a mont longer, feeling Cassius’s silent fury beside .
Lucas’s quiet amusent behind .
Then we all left the throne room.
By midday, preparations were nearly complete.
Lucas and I stood in the war chamber, a long map-strewn table between us.
He leaned casually against the table’s edge, arms crossed, his pale blue eyes calm and unreadable.
I moved efficiently, checking the forged docunts spread before us:
rchant papers, envoy seals, trade manifests for rare herbs from the northern mountains.
Everything carefully crafted to make us look legitimate.
Boring.
Harmless.
The perfect lie.
I packed light:
one small travel bag, a change of clothes, a handful of concealed blades, and a pouch of gold.
No banners.
No obvious weapons.
We were diplomats.
On the surface.
Predators underneath.
Lucas hadn’t said much—just watched, letting handle the preparations.
It was smart.
Diplomatic missions demanded subtlety, not brute force.
Finally, I glanced up at him.
"Our story is simple," I said. "We’re traders seeking a new export agreent."
Lucas’s mouth curved slightly—not quite a smile.
"Harmless," he agreed. "Forgettable."
I slipped a dagger into a hidden sheath inside my boot.
"We can’t afford attention," I said.
Lucas chuckled low under his breath.
"You’re very good at being noticed, storm girl.
Think you can play invisible?"
I t his pale gaze steadily.
"I can be whatever the mission requires."
He pushed off the table in one smooth motion, walking toward the rack of gear without answering.
Every step is casual.
Relaxed.
Deceptively so.
I watched him pick through the weapons, selecting a slim dagger and tucking it beneath his cloak without a sound.
Alpha Lucas.
Mysterious.
Controlled.
Still giving away nothing about himself unless he chose to.
And I had no intention of trusting him yet.
Cassius entered the war chamber then, silent as a shadow.
His dark eyes flicked over the preparations once—cold, asuring—before settling on .
He stopped beside , speaking low so only I could hear.
"Stay safe."
It wasn’t an order.
It was concern.
Why was he concerned about , I thought to myself, but I nodded once, fastening the last buckle on my cloak.
"I will."
Cassius’s gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer.
Sothing unspoken in it.
Possessiveness.
Reluctance.
Respect.
Maybe all three.
Then he turned and disappeared without a sound, leaving Lucas and alone.
I slung my travel bag over my shoulder.
Lucas studied for a mont—his posture lazy, his mouth curved in that sa faint, knowing almost-smile.
"No mistakes," I said quietly.
Lucas’s eyes glead, cold and unreadable.
"I should be telling you that," he murmured.
He passed , brushing close.
A wolf traveling beside another wolf.
At first light, we would ride for Raventhorn—
Envoys by appearance.
Spies by truth.
And I would find out if the blood that linked brothers was thinner than they thought.
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