Chapter 89

Chapter 89: Chapter 89

Across from him, Queen Seraphina was the picture of quiet strength. Her silver-streaked dark hair was pulled back in a simple braid, and her traveling gown was practical rather than ornate, but she wore it with the grace of a woman who had been born to wear crowns. Her hand rested lightly on her daughter’s shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of uncertainty.

Princess Freya sat between her parents, her dark eyes—so like her brother’s—flickering with a mixture of excitement and fear. At thirteen, she was on the cusp of womanhood, her frame still gangly with adolescent growth, her wolf newly awakened and still settling into her bones. She had been thrilled to make this journey. She had begged her parents for weeks to let her come. But the seer’s prophecy had cast a shadow over everything, and now her excitement was tempered with dread.

"Do you think Soren will be surprised to see me?" Freya asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was smaller than usual, stripped of its usual confidence.

The Queen smiled. "I think he’ll be very surprised. And very happy."

"I’ve grown since he last saw me. I’m taller now. And my wolf finally came." Freya paused. "Do you think he’ll be proud of me?"

"Your brother has always been proud of you," the King said, his deep voice rumbling through the tent. "From the moment you were born."

"Then why hasn’t he come home? It’s been two years."

The King and Queen exchanged a glance—a brief, loaded look that spoke of secrets and politics and things a thirteen-year-old princess wasn’t yet ready to understand.

"Your brother’s training is very demanding," the Queen said carefully. "And his identity as crown prince must remain hidden. If he came home too often, people would ask questions. The Sword Sovereign cannot be seen visiting the royal palace."

"It’s stupid," Freya muttered. "The whole secret identity thing. He should be able to tell people who he is. He should be proud of being the crown prince."

"He is proud," the King said. "But pride and wisdom are not the same thing. Your brother understands the importance of his mission. The academy is where he needs to be. The secrecy is necessary."

"Necessary for what? So he can be in danger? The seer said—" Freya’s voice caught. "The seer said something terrible was coming for him. Something that could break him. How can you be so calm about that?"

The Queen pulled her daughter close. "I’m not calm, darling. I’m terrified. Every moment of every day, I worry about your brother. But worrying doesn’t help him. Being there for him does. And tomorrow, we will be there."

"The seer also said there was hope," the King added, his voice gentler than usual. "She spoke of a silver-haired figure at your brother’s side. A woman of the old blood. She said this woman could be Soren’s salvation."

"The old blood?" Freya looked up at her father. "What does that mean?"

"It means the Moonblood lineage. A line of women blessed by the Moon Goddess with powers beyond ordinary wolves. The line was thought to be extinct—erased by kings who feared what they couldn’t control. But if the seer is right..." The King paused. "If the seer is right, then there is a Moonblood heir at Shadowmoon Academy. And she is connected to your brother in ways we don’t yet understand."

"Is she his mate?" Freya asked.

The Queen’s hand stilled on her daughter’s shoulder. The King’s expression flickered—surprise, perhaps, or something darker.

"What makes you ask that?" the King said.

"Because the seer said she was the key. The catalyst. The salvation or the destruction." Freya’s dark eyes were serious. "That sounds like a mate bond. In all the old stories, the mate bond is the most powerful connection there is. It can save you or destroy you. It can make you stronger than anything or break you completely."

The King stared at his daughter. "You’ve been reading the old stories."

"I’ve been reading everything. I’m not a child anymore, Father. I’m thirteen. My wolf has awakened. I understand things now." She straightened her shoulders. "If Soren has found his mate—if there’s a Moonblood heir at the academy—then that changes everything, doesn’t it? The betrothal contract with Selene. The succession. Everything."

The King was silent for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed—a low, rueful sound.

"You are so much like your mother," he said. "She also has a habit of seeing straight to the heart of things."

"One of my many talents," the Queen said dryly. "She inherited it from me."

"Clearly." The King reached across the table and took his wife’s hand. "If Soren has found his true mate—if the Moon Goddess has chosen a different path for him than the one we arranged—then we will face that challenge when it comes. But for now, we know nothing. We’ve heard only the ravings of a seer who speaks in riddles."

"The seer has never been wrong," the Queen said quietly.

"No. She hasn’t." The King’s jaw tightened. "Which is why we must be prepared for anything. Tomorrow, we arrive at Shadowmoon. Tomorrow, we see our son. And whatever danger is coming—whatever storm the seer foresaw—we will face it as a family."

"Together," Freya said.

"Together," the King agreed.

They finished their meal in contemplative silence, and when the servants came to clear the table, the royal family retired to their separate quarters within the pavilion. Freya lay awake for a long time, staring at the silk ceiling of her tent and thinking about her brother. About the danger that was coming. About the silver-haired woman who might save him or destroy him.

Please be safe, she prayed to the Moon Goddess. Please let him be safe.

Outside, the guards changed shifts. The torches flickered in the night breeze. And the stars wheeled overhead, cold and distant and utterly indifferent.

Dawn broke over the valley like a promise.

The royal camp stirred to life with the first rays of sunlight. Servants doused the campfires and packed the tents. Guards saddled the horses and checked their weapons one final time. The King emerged from his pavilion dressed in his formal traveling attire—a deep crimson coat embroidered with gold, polished black boots, a cloak of midnight velvet. He looked every inch the Alpha who had united the Seven Packs.

The Queen followed shortly after, her silver-streaked hair arranged in an elegant twist, her gown a deep blue that matched her eyes. Freya bounded out of her tent with the boundless energy of a thirteen-year-old who had barely slept, her dark hair braided in a crown around her head.

"Is it time? Are we leaving now? How long until we get there?"

"Soon, darling," the Queen said. "Patience."

"I’ve been patient for two years."

"Then another few hours won’t kill you."

Freya groaned dramatically but took her place in the royal carriage without further complaint. The King mounted his horse a massive black stallion that had carried him through countless battles and raised his hand.

"Move out!"

The procession began to move. The royal banners snapped in the morning breeze. The guards formed ranks around the carriages. And the King of the Seven Packs rode toward Shadowmoon Academy, his heart heavy with worry and hope in equal measure.

Back at the academy, the morning was a frenzy of last-minute activity.

Nyra stood in the Undercroft dorm, adjusting the collar of her formal tunic for the tenth time. The fabric was stiff and unfamiliar—she had grown accustomed to the loose training clothes she wore as Thorne, and the formal attire felt like a costume. But today was not a day for comfort. Today was a day for appearances.

"You look fine," Finn said, appearing at her elbow. "Very princely. Very heir-to-the-third-pack. The King will be impressed."

"I’m not trying to impress the King."

"Then who are you trying to impress? The Sword Sovereign?" Finn grinned. "Because he’s already impressed. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s frankly a little disgusting."

"Finn—"

"I’m just saying. You two are so in love it makes the rest of us want to vomit. It’s beautiful. Disgusting, but beautiful."

Marek appeared behind Finn and cuffed him gently on the back of the head. "Stop teasing him."

"I’m not teasing. I’m expressing affectionate observations."

"You’re being annoying."

"Same thing."

Jasper looked up from his ever-present book. "The royal procession has been spotted on the eastern road. They’ll arrive within two hours."

The room went quiet. Two hours. Two hours until the King arrived. Two hours until everything changed.

Nyra took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Then we’d better be ready."

Finn clapped her on the back. "That’s the spirit. Now let’s go. The welcoming committee is assembling in the courtyard, and if we’re late, the Proctor will have our heads."

They filed out of the dormitory together, joining the stream of students flooding toward the main courtyard. Banners snapped overhead. Guards stood at attention. The instructors had formed a receiving line near the main gate. And at the center of it all, Proctor Kane stood with Lady Isolde at his side, his expression carved from stone.

The academy was ready.

The King was coming.

And nothing would ever be the same.