The Lycan King’s Defiant Surrogate by Riley Above Story (Chapters 101 to 110)

Chapter 101

Samuel stands beside his wife in the Hall of the capital as he has several times before since his arrival here for the Alpha Council – a council which has failed totally, if recent events were anything to go by.

This time, compared to the other times Samuel has been in this room, however, the King himself is absent. In his stead, the King’s Gamma George stands on the stage near the throne.

Most of the Alpha’s survived the attack from the bear clan, though many of the lesser wolves of their entourage, such as their servants and slaves, did not. Only an alpha wolf has a chance against the strength of a bear, and even then it can be precarious. And enough silver bullets could kill any werewolf, alpha or lesser.

The King himself, arguably the most powerful of all the werewolves, was himself felled in a rage of gunfire and a high fall.

The thought of King Caleb brings Harper to mind, which makes Samuel’s stomach turn. She and Samuel could have escaped in the chaos. Samuel had given her the chance… and she threw it back in his face, instead choosing the man kidnapped her and kept her here.

For years, since her disgrace, Samuel had tried to find ways of saving her, while spurning her sister at every turn. Had she not seen how he turned Leah away? He only changed his engagement because the elders in the pack commanded him to do so, but his heart always stayed with Harper.

And yes, maybe he had to act like she meant nothing to him, but that was only so people wouldn’t be suspicious. He’d kept the necklace.

Didn’t she receive it? Why wouldn’t his feelings matter to her? He was the one putting himself at the most risk, offering to run away from an alpha life for her, a slave.

She should have been honored and flattered by his sacrifice. She should have kissed him and thanked him, and cried with joy.

Instead, she chose to stay beside a bleeding-out monster.

Samuel hopes Caleb died in that alley.

Regardless, he will never be so foolish as to trust a vixen like Harper again for as long as he lives.

This was why, when he returned to the capital, he sought out the closet where he had hidden his wife while he went in search of her sister. He stayed with her there, waiting until the all-clear was given. Leah clung to him, looking to him for guidance and protection, as a Luna should.

Leah is still mad at him for his oversight in protecting Harper first. He can see her reasoning, but as she told him in that closet, “We can fix things between us. But you have to let her go. Forever, this time.”

“She means nothing to me anymore,” Samuel told her.

“You’ve said that before…”

“It’s the truth this time,” he says and hopes he means it, even though the words ping uncomfortably inside his chest.

Now, standing in the Hall, he watches as the other Alphas pace and shouts their concerns at George. Tensions are running high, and Alphas have little patience for uncertainty.

“We need all to return to our own packs!” one of the alphas shouts. “If those bear bastards could attack the capital, they could attack anywhere!”

“It’s for your own safety that you are kept here,” George says. “We’ve secured the capital, but nowhere else. If you step even one foot outside, you could all be killed. Then what will happen to your packs? With no leader?”

“We cannot be kept here,” another Alpha says. “This place is no safer than anywhere else.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” George replies. “Have you not noticed the increase in the guard?”

The increase in unfamiliar faces was not the comfort George perhaps thought it was. New faces meant new unfamiliar smells. A Gamma might not understand, but Alphas’ heightened senses would be put on edge, not comforted by the presence of the unknown and unfamiliar.

Even Samuel is sizing up some of the guards in the room. Something about them doesn’t seem right… but he can’t figure out why. One of the guards smelled like evergreen trees. Where in the kingdom do they grow evergreen trees? Isn’t that a northern thing?

“You still haven’t explained where all of these guards came from, says another Alpha, one that’s older and calmer than most. Perhaps the most experienced wolf in the room, the Alpha of the Moonlake pack.

His daughter Sonya was severely injured in the attack. To anyone else, that might be a reason to back down, but this Alpha seems the type who would back down for no one and nothing. Not even to be at his injured daughter’s side.

“If they were close enough to be here now, why were they not called in immediately to protect the king?” the Moonlake Alpha continues.

“It takes time to mobilize the reserves,” George answers smoothly. “Especially in the chaos of the attack.”

The Moonlake Alpha does not seem convinced. “And in that chaos, you yourself ascended in power?”

“In the absence of the King and his Beta, someone had to step up.”

“It could have been many other men.”

“But it wasn’t,” George says. Though his voice is cool, his eyes narrow.

By Healthy

Samuel checks the guard again, who has a good hold on his gun, watching the scene unfold.

“The guards listen to me now,” George says. “And I will use them to protect you. All of you. Whether you like me or not.”

With that, the Alphas and their guests are filed out of the room, and commanded to return to their rooms. Samuel is relieved to have a few minutes alone to think. Leah, however, gives him no silence. She rambles as she paces the room we’ve been given.

“I don’t like this. Gammas are to follow the order of Alphas, not the other way around. If my father was here…”

Samuel doesn’t care for Leah. She’s selfish and loud, cruel with her opinions, with a distinct lack of compassion for anyone but herself.

Yet, with hair and eyes like Harper, she is beautiful.

And willing. Perhaps Samuel has denied himself too long. His hopes for Harper have blown up in his face. She’s off, likely fucking the King if he’s alive. Why shouldn’t he also have fun?

“I don’t want to stay here another minute, do you hear me? Samuel? Are you listening? Why are you looking at me like – mmf!”

Samuel silences her with a greedy kiss. She pulls away for a moment and slaps him across the face. Yet before Samuel can recover or react to that, she mutters, “Why did you make me wait so long you damn bastard,” and jumps into his arms.

They fall into the bed, shed their clothes, and tangle together.

Leah claws her sharp fingernails down his back as she screams very loudly and repeatedly, nearly pulling him from the moment.

She’s over the top in everything, even this.

Still, she’s soft and wet, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine someone else…

Soon, he topples over into his climax, a name on his lips.

It escapes him, “Harper!”

Leah goes very still. Then, furious, she shouts, “What the hell did you just say?”

Chapter 102

Back at the house, I force Caleb to sit on a chair so that I can clean and bandage each of the wounds he dirtied by being in that river. He’s surprisingly pliant, considering his usual aversion to being told what to do. But after the earth-shattering sex we’ve had, it seems nothing will break the air of smug satisfaction he’s taken on.

The alcohol wipes I use to clean the wounds out must hurt him. They sting even on the shallowest of cuts, and he has bullet holes. Yet he doesn’t seem to care. He just keeps smirking as he looks at me, gently scenting the air.

Even though I bathed in the river before we left it, he can probably smell himself on me still, with those Alpha senses. I try to ignore that look of ownership in his eyes. Maybe I press in a little too hard on one of the ones just to get him to stop.

He winces slightly. “That doesn’t seem necessary.”

“It was dirty,” I tell him.

He hums while giving me a suspicious look, but doesn’t call me out.

“Silver wounds take a long time to heal,” I say, hoping to shift the conversation.

“They do,” Caleb says. His smirk fully disappears, he suddenly seems as if he’s very far away.

Watching him, I wonder where he went. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been pierced with silver,” I say, guessing.

“It’s not,” he replies, affirming my suspicion.

He’s seemed too calm about this from the start. Even on that balcony, he didn’t flinch as the guns began to fire, as the bullets tore through his flesh and stayed there like shrapnel under his skin.

“It was… impressive, the way you stood up to those bears,” I say, hoping to bring him back to the present by offering compliments. It helps that those compliments are true. “You saved my life.”

“I’m not a hero, Harper.”

“In that moment, you were to me.”

“I’m the one who took you onto that balcony. You were only in danger at all because of me.”

I blink a few times, curious and surprised by his words. “It’s not like you to second-guess yourself.”

“If you believe that, you don’t know me at all.” His voice is very soft in the still silence of the room.

Without realizing it, I’ve even stopped moving.

Caleb looks out the window, and I wonder what he sees. It can’t be the grasses and the trees there, as the sun begins to lower in the sky.

Then, as quiet as a breath, he says, “I killed my brother to take the crown.”

I remember, years back, the tragedy of Prince Evan’s death. The older of the two brothers, Evan had been known to be outgoing and confident, with a bright smile and charm that never ran out. Caleb, in his shadow, was more known for being quiet. Stronger physically than Evan, but not near as well liked.

After Evan’s death, the reigning King, Evan and Caleb’s father, stepped away from the throne, gifting the crown to his only living son, Caleb.

No one has seen or heard from the old King since. Some vicious rumors say that Caleb had them sealed away. She even heard that Caleb had killed Evan, but she never thought it would be true.

What kind of man would kill his brother? Not one fit for the crown.

It was a juicy scandal and the talk around the taverns and bars. It wasn’t anything plausible or real.

At least that’s what she thought.

Now, in this secluded farmhouse, with the sunlight dimming, Caleb is admitting to the kingdom’s most tragic unsolved crime. It means the rumors are true.

Yet he’s not admitting to it in any gloating way, or with any satisfaction at all. Caleb has killed before, he’s tortured, and always he’s hardened as if he’s immune to it all. But right now… his face is filled with regret, and his eyes are sad.

“Did you love your brother?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Yes,” he answers immediately, with no hesitation.

I want to know more, but for him to admit to even this much feels like he is showing trust and vulnerability that I haven’t earned. In time, if he wants to tell me more, he can, and I will listen. But I cannot force him to.

Caleb is not a good man, but for him to kill the brother that he loves, he has to have a good reason. I believe that, deep down to my core, even if I can’t explain why.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I tell him, hoping that the words offer the comfort that I want to give but struggle with how to convey.

He turns away from the window to look at me. His eyes refocus, coming back to the present.

“You should be,” he says. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a monster.”

“You aren’t,” I say too quickly, then relent, because that’s not entirely honest. “You can be. But you can also be kind and gentle…”

The way he was in that river, so steady and calm.

The way he was with me… A man with his strength could have broken me, but even in the heat of our passion, he never lost control enough to hurt me.

“I’m a villain, Harper,” Caleb says. “You’ve told me that yourself.”

“Only when you are being unreasonable,” I say. He’s starting to get there now, spiking my irritation.

“I’m not the only one who is unreasonable,” he replies. “You claim I’m not always a monster. You claim I can be kind and gentle. Yet still, you deny me, my child.”

Disappointment rises within me. After all of the ground,d we’ve covered here… After the shared vulnerability and the agreement we made that we need to work together to survive… After saving his life and his saving mine…

Still, we are at this same argument. It’s like talking to a wall, for how much he listens.

“Why can’t you believe me when I tell you there is no child? After everything I’ve done for you? What we’ve done for each other? You honestly believe that I would keep a secret like that from you?”

Caleb narrows his eyes as he searches my face. “Yes.”

The word stings, a knife to the gut, but I can’t really be surprised. With a heavy sigh, I shake my head. “There is no child, Caleb.”

“And still you keep lying,” he says. The vulnerability in him is gone now, sealed entirely away behind a wall of ice and steel. I shiver from the sudden chill.

Then, in a rush, Caleb stands. His hands grip my arms, causing a flash of fear in me, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at the door instead.

“What is it?” I ask, trying to follow the length of his gaze, but I don’t see anything right away.

Then, as I continue to look, I see a pair of headlights curling around the driveway.

It’s not quite dark yet, but the sky is turning more purple than blue.

“Who is that? Tristan?”

“No,” Caleb says. “He would never be back this soon. Stay in the house, Harper. No matter what you hear.”

I don’t like the sound of that! “What are you going to do? If either of us can risk being spotted it’s me, not you.”

“And if the intruder means to kill? What will you do then?” Caleb says, his eyes slicing at me like two knife flashes in the dark. “Stay out of sight, Harper. Leave this to me.”

Chapter 103

Caleb can say whatever bossy things he wants to, but the chances of me letting him face a potential enemy alone are exactly zero. So while he turns to confront the intruder head-on through the front door, I slip around out the back door in the kitchen and sneakily make my way around the side of the house.

The car comes to a stop beside the house, and a middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit steps out of it. He seems unassuming at first glance, but I’ve learned you can’t really trust appearances. The many betrayals at the palace hardened me. Anyone could be pretending, just as the king’s guard pretended.

It is impossible to know the true motives of a person, under the surface.

The man grabs a briefcase off the backseat, and, after taking a moment to adjust his tie, starts to walk toward the house.

When he reaches the base of the stairs onto the porch, the front door bursts open, and Caleb lunges from inside the house. Caleb tackles the startled man, shoving him down onto his back in the dirt.

The man’s briefcase springs open, and catalogs and order forms spill out. Some flutter by me in the wind. Catching one, I look closer at it. It seems genuine. This guy might actually be a door-to-door appliance salesman.

A nearby form is labeled with this man’s name and contact information. Mr. Aloysius Harvey is from a town I recognize as being near the capital. I grab a few more forms as they fly by. Each is labeled exactly the same.

“Who are you?” Caleb shouts, right in Mr. Harvey’s face.

Mr. Harvey trembles beneath Caleb. He raises his arm in defense.

“Caleb!” I say, rushing forward.

Caleb’s attention shifts to me, annoyance in his eyes. “You are supposed to be inside,” he growls.

“This guy is just an appliance salesman,” I tell him quickly.

Confusion crosses over Caleb’s face. Hurrying closer, I show him the forms I grabbed.

He takes them as he stands, pushing away from the frightened Mr. Harvey at his feet. He looks closer at the forms, and then at Mr. Harvey.

“You are an appliance salesman,” Caleb says.

From the ground, Mr. Harvey adjusts his tie. “Can I interest you in a new refrigerator?” He’s clearly rattled as he sits up. He grabs his fedora from nearby and puts it back on his head, though it’s at an angle now. He laughs good-naturedly. “Some people are happier to see me than others, but I’ve never had a welcome quite like this before.”

As Mr. Harvey struggles to stand, Caleb reaches down, grabs him by the elbow, and yanks him back up to his feet with ease.

“I thought I was protecting…” Caleb glances at me. “The property.”

“Don’t think twice about it. It’s all right!” Smiling at me, he says, “With a beauty like that inside, who could blame you? You have my thanks miss, for setting the record straight in my favor.” Before I can answer, his attention goes back to Caleb. “Newlyweds?”

Heat rushes to my face. “We’re not…”

“Yes,” Caleb says before I can explain.

Mr. Harvey nods. “I was much like you when I first married Mrs. Harvey. Hard to restrain those protective instincts, right? Especially out here in the countryside. People in the capital look down on us folks out here, you know. I’ve recently come from there, a mess of a place. Bet they wished they lived out here now.”

The corner of Caleb’s mouth twitched downward, ever so slightly.

I rush in before any more can be said on either side. “You’ve come from the capital?” I asked. “What news have you heard from there?”

“To ask that, I’m assuming you heard some of the news?” Mr. Harvey asks.

“We heard there was some kind of attack,” I say.

Mr. Harvey nods. “Then you likely haven’t heard the worst of it. The bear clan attacked from the north, leaving the whole place on lockdown. I wasn’t even allowed inside this time, that’s how bad it is. I talked to some of the other folks stuck outside. They say the king was killed in the attack.”

“Terrible stuff,” Mr. Harvey continues without prompting. “The King’s Beta is missing too. The Gamma, George has stepped up as Steward in their absence, but -” Caleb stiffens.

A low growl permeates the air. Mr. Harvey and I both look at Caleb. He wears his anger openly on his face. When he notices us both looking at him, he huffs and turns away. He storms off, walking across the meadow.

When he’s out of earshot, Mr. Harvey faces me again. “Your new husband is very in touch with his… wolf side.”

Not wanting to give anything away, I nod. “He has strong opinions about politics.”

Mr. Harvey nods. “Well, stand by him, dear. Guys like that tend to be a handful, but he’ll be the most loyal, faithful partner you’ve ever had.”

If only he knew, Caleb would never be faithful to me. He has an entire harem waiting for him back at the capital. Why would he choose one woman when he could have his daily pick from over a hundred of them?

Even so, Mr. Harvey’s kind remarks do warm me somewhat. It’s nice to talk to someone who could see me as Caleb’s partner, and not as his slave.

“I’ve been terribly rude, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself.” Taking off his hat, he bows low. “Mr. Aloysius Harvey, your friendly appliance salesman.” Straightening, he places his hat back on his head. “I don’t suppose I could talk to you about that refrigerator?”

I lightly shake my head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harvey, but we don’t even have electricity here.”

That surprises him. “Golly. Although I’m not surprised. Many of the old farmhouses go way back. I usually avoid them entirely, but I saw the smoke from your chimney and thought I’d take a chance. Usually, I do well enough in the capital that I don’t need to bother, but… well…”

“You weren’t able to go to the capital this trip,” I fill in for him.

“Locked up tight, ma’am.”

“I wish I could buy something from you… but without electricity…”

“You are kind,” Mr. Harvey says. “Without electricity, the only thing I could even offer you is this…”

He reaches into his inside coat pocket and retrieves a simple statue of a howling wolf. It’s three inches tall, in shining stainless steel, likely the same as his appliances.

Laughing slightly, he says, “We give these as a free gift to all those who purchase from us… It’s just a little figure.” Looking at it and then at me, he says, “Why don’t you take it, miss? Something to remember me by. Then, when you and your husband finally get electricity in this place, you know just who to call.”

I accept the figure and an order form too.

“Just fill it out and put it in the mail when you are ready,” he says.

With that, he heads back towards his car. “Give my regards to your husband. And remember, those wolfy reflexes are natural. It’s good he can be that natural around you.”

As Mr. Harvey drives away, I look closer at the little figure and smile. In a way, it reminds me of Caleb.

Searching for him now, he’s walking back from across the meadow. I’m hopeful that maybe the walk has helped calm him, but when I see his hands curled into fists, I know I’m in for another argument.

When he reaches me, he says, voice cold, “I’m going back.”

“To the capital? When?”

The next word comes out as a growl, “Now.”

Chapter 104

Caleb wants to go back to the capital now? As in, right now?

“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life,” I tell him.

“What do you know?” he growls, fury crumpling his features. “That traitor is sitting on my throne like he belongs there, emboldened by the lie that I am dead. I will return to the capital, I don’t care who stands in my way. Then I will rip that bastard’s head off in front of his entire army of betrayers.”

He is shaking in his rage, his eyes flashing red.

We don’t even have a car here, but I suspect even that won’t hold him back. At this rate, he seems as if he would run the whole way to the capital if he had to.

“You are still healing,” I tell him.

“I’m healed enough.”

“It’s suicide,” I try instead. “You won’t make it past the guards and their guns, and then you really will be dead.”

He flashes his teeth at me, his canines growing. “Do not underestimate me.”

“I’m not. I’m being realistic. Tristan is there, scoping things out. We are going to wait for him to come back, remember? If you go in right now, you go in blind, without support and without a plan. We have to wait for Tristan to return.”

Caleb’s growl deepens, but since he doesn’t have a retort for that, I know I’m winning.

“What George has done cannot be tolerated,” Caleb says. His canines slowly pull back, returning to his usual human teeth.

“You will have your revenge,” I say, knowing better than to try to talk him out of that. “But you have to be patient.”

From the way his growling persists, I imagine that patience has never been one of his strongest virtues.

“I’ll have his head on a pike,” Caleb insists.

“You will,” I agree, placating him.

After a moment, he huffs a long exhale through his nose, and his eyes lose their reddish hue.

“Would a massage be held?” I ask.

He glares at the ground, looking away from me. I wait for him to answer me. After a few long moments of silence, he does, “Fine.”

I motion toward the house and we start inside. As we walk, Caleb notices the small wolf figure in my hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, a little gift the salesman left for me. I think he felt bad for the way things went down.”

Caleb holds out his hand. “Let me see.”

I pass over the figure just as we enter the living room.

Caleb brings it closer and thoroughly inspects it. He even scents it.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“A listening device,” he says casually like that’s a totally normal thing to say.

A hint of fear rushes through me. Could Mr. Harvey have been a bad guy after all? I would hate if that turned out to be true. The man had been so kind to me, treating me like an equal, not as a slave. I haven’t been treated that well since before my disgrace.

“Oh.”

Caleb looks at me sideways, then passes the figure back to me. “It’s innocent.”

Relief presses away the fear. “Good,” I say, accepting it.

“It’s a silly thing. Why cherish it as you do?”

“It’s a nice keepsake.”

“To commemorate my downfall?” Caleb asks, narrowing his eyes.

“No. Not everything about this trip was so bad,” I say. In the kitchen, I leave the little wolf on the corner of the counter where I can see it.

Caleb shifts his gaze from me to the figure and back again. “No, I suppose not.”

I motion toward one of the kitchen chairs. Once he sits down, I move around behind him and place my hands on his shoulders.

Immediately, he starts to calm under my touch.

At nightfall, Caleb lights a few lanterns in the house while I light the oven and prepare one of the fish that Caleb caught. While that is cooking in the oven, I begin chopping up some vegetables to cook on the skillet on the stovetop.

Caleb returns then and peers over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to make some grilled veggies,” I tell him. When he lingers, I glance back at him. “Do you… want to help?”

It felt strange, to ask a King for help chopping the vegetables – even after I had yelled at him to contribute more.

I’m still expecting him to say no, so it surprises me immensely when he nods, saying, “I know my way around a knife.”

Without a word, I pass over the knife. He moves quickly and expertly, slicing through the vegetables like an actual chef.

“How did you learn to do that?” I ask him, in awe.

“You don’t want to know,” he says, a hint of darkness in his voice.

Oh. That means torture. I’m sure of it.

In that case, he’s right. I don’t want to know.

I prepare the pan on the stove while he continues with the vegetables. Working side by side like this feels oddly domestic. Not something I would have ever expected to share with the king.

I don’t hate it. In fact, I’m alarmed at how much I do enjoy, working in tandem with a man I care about, as if class wasn’t something that fundamentally separated us in almost every other regard.

It makes me curious about things that probably don’t matter…

Yet they still feel vitally important here, in the quiet of the kitchen, with only the crack sizzle of the wood in the stove to pull me from my thoughts.

“If you weren’t a king,” I ask, “What would you want to be?”

He chuckles lightly at my question. “I don’t know… maybe a fisherman.”

“You’re joking but I think you’re good at it.”

“I am good at it,” Caleb replies. “But would it be enough to satisfy me in the long term? I don’t know. It’s more likely I would be a soldier, working my way up through the ranks.”

“Your ambition would drive you?” I ask.

“I like having power,” Caleb says.

It’s honest, at least.

In polite conversation, the next thing we would talk about should be my answer to the question, but Caleb just continues chopping and doesn’t say anything.

He probably isn’t used to having to contribute meaningfully to conversations, so I answered anyway as if he had asked me.

“I don’t know what I would be, if life had treated me a different hand,” I say.

Caleb laughs harder like I told a joke.

Did I miss something?

Glancing back at him, I ask, “What’s so funny?”

“You are joking,” Caleb says, “So I’m laughing.”

I turn away from the stove to face him. “How am I joking?”

Glancing at my face, he stops chopping to face me as well. “Because you can’t be serious. It’s too absurd.”

“In what way?” I ask.

“Why would you want anything other for yourself than to be a member of my harem?” His confusion seems genuine. He’s dead serious about this.

I take a deep breath, trying to push down on my rising anger. A king’s viewpoint is skewed. He thinks he treats me so kindly. And maybe he does, considering, but I’d still rather be free.

“I’d rather be here,” I tell him. “Like this.”

Caleb glances around. His confusion does not wane. “There’s no electricity.”

“Maybe not. But here, I can make my own choices. I could spend all day watching the grasses blow in the wind if I wanted.”.

“So you want to be lazy.”

“I want to be free,” I say, with more bite than I meant. “The capital is a gilded cage for me. I can’t even sneeze without asking your permission. Here, I can live however I want.”

I expect Caleb to fly off the handle in anger, but instead, he almost seems… thoughtful.

“Oh.” He returns to his work, chopping the vegetables. There’s more than I need now, but I don’t stop him.

I puzzle over his muted reaction for a long time.

Chapter 105

In the capital, Tristan moves stealthily through the upper hallways of the capital. He’d disguised himself as a guard to sneak past the capital walls, aligning himself with a troop as they entered. Quickly after, before he could be recognized, he broke away.

He maintained a few connections in the underground, who helped him assemble what he needed for his next disguise.

A soldier might help him pass unknown among the servants, but it was not the servants he needed to deceive. So, he took on the disguise of a kitchen servant. Then, carrying a box of groceries, entered the capital itself without receiving a second glance.

In the same apparel, he’s made his way all the way to the upper floors, no one questioning him. A few of the servants noticed him, recognizing him, but with a finger to his lips, the nodded, agreeing to stay silent.

Caleb was not exactly beloved by his wait staff, especially the slaves, but nor did those people feel any loyalty to George instead. In fact, per Tristan’s contacts, conditions have become even worse under George’s reign.

Tristan moves into the harem wing, searching for a contact there. He’s not totally surprised that most of them are under armed guard.

The harem’s loyalty will always be to Caleb. George is right in not trusting them, infuriating as that may be for Tristan personally right now.

Realizing the consorts are off-limits, Tristan redirects his attentions, moving into the nearby servants’ quarters, the ones discretely removed from public sight behind a thick stone wall. This is where the handmaidens stay.

Tristan memorized the layout long ago, as he has the entirety of the capital, even the floors and places not used anymore. For this reason, when he enters a room, he can do so with confidence, knowing he will find who he is looking for.

“Excuse me!” gasps Bethany, Harper’s handmaiden.

Tristan closes the door behind him, then turns to see Bethany. When she sees it’s him, she lowers the kitchen knife she’s holding.

She’d swiped it. Something she might be punished for regularly if Tristan wouldn’t look the other way. Given the circumstances, he’s relieved she has it now. He wouldn’t fault a woman for wanting to protect herself when even the soldiers are traitors.

“Beta Tristan,” she says formally though softly, voice a whisper. “How are you here? They say that you’ve run away?”

“I suspect much of what they say isn’t true,” Tristan says.

Tristan doesn’t know Bethany all that way, but he does know she is exceedingly loyal to Harper, perhaps more than she is even to her king. A questionable position to take, given she only continues to exist by the King’s mercy… But… She’s just the person he needs right now.

At present, loyalty to Harper means loyalty to the king.

“You don’t mean…” Hope rises in her voice. “Harper and the King…?”

“They are alive and safe. For the moment. And looking for ways to return. That’s why I’m here. Tell me everything that has happened. Rumors on the road say that George has declared himself Steward. I trust you know that he is the ultimate traitor.”

She nods. “I do. But it’s not just Stewardship he’s after, Beta Tristan. He wants the Crown.”

“He’s declared Caleb dead,” Tristan says with a frown. “But surely the Alpha Council would not surrender power willingly… to a Gamma.”

“The soldiers are loyal to him,” Bethany says. “He’s basically holding the alphas prisoner here, threatening them and their loved ones if they don’t comply with his wishes.”

“Even so, there are channels he will have to take to become King. He cannot simply steal the crown for himself.”

“He says that he can,” Bethany says. “He’s using the war with the North as the reason for his urgency. He even planned an entire grandiose ceremony to show off his new power.”

“A ceremony? While the city is on lockdown?”

“I’ve heard him give commands to allow specific vendors to pass through the walls,” Bethany says.

“Good,” Tristan says. “I can use that information.”

“Then you should also know, that all of the soldiers inside the palace have been replaced with bear-shifters or wolves easily bought. The ones in the underground, however, are still loyal to Caleb. That’s why they’ve been replaced. They’d likely have a few questions for George if they could make it through the door.”

An army at the ready, then. Just waiting for their King’s return.

“Thank you, Bethany. You will be rewarded for this.”

“I don’t care about rewards,” Bethany says. “Harper is my friend. Until she is safe, I won’t rest.”

Tristan nods, pleased with her attitude. If only that loyalty was for the king, and not a consort. Tristan is too desperate to be picky, though.

“Warn the other servants to be prepared for the day of the ceremony,” Tristan says. “I suspect the King’s return will not be gently received.”

“No,” Bethany agrees. “There is sure to be bloodshed.”

“We’ll be ready,” Tristan says.

“I’ll prepare the servants and slaves,” Bethany says. “Give them a signal, and they will vanish.”

“Good,” Tristan says, already formulating a new plan. “That’s good.”

Healthier, Caleb is able to make it up the stairs now, so instead of squishing himself onto the bed, he stretches out on the bed instead. I follow along behind him, though stay rooted at the door to the room while he relaxes inside of it. There is a second bedroom if he wants to be alone.

When Caleb notices my hesitation, he grumbles, “What are you doing, lingering there? Get in here and warm my bed like a good consort.”

His tone makes me want to argue, but since being at his side is where I want to be, I comply in this instance.

As soon as I’m within reach, he grabs me around the waist and yanks me down onto the bed.

With me on my back, he rolls over me. His mouth covers mine, his tongue plunging deep.

In a rush, he grips the front of my dress like he means to rip it off

“Wait!” I shout, pulling back from his kiss.

His brow scrunches in annoyance, but his hands still.

“What is the reason for this defiance?” he snaps.

“There are so few clothes here for me,” I say. Reaching up, I start undoing the buttons that block my breasts from his hungry eyes and hands. “If you tear too many, I’ll have to walk around naked.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

I roll my eyes at him. “What if another salesman visits?”

“I’ll pluck out his eyes,” Caleb says, his voice lowering to a growl.

“What if it’s Tristan?”

Caleb continues growling, though he doesn’t formulate words this time. Instead, he pulls his hands away from my dress and allows me to continue to unbutton, unimpeded.

When the last button is free, he pushes the dress down from my shoulders. I roll away as he tugs it out from under me. He turns and places it on top of a chair near the bed.

His kindness startles and delights me so much that by the time he rolls back to me, I stretch myself, ready and waiting for him.

“Well?” I ask, lifting a brow.

“As a consort should be.”

We take our pleasures well into the night, thoroughly enjoying and exhausting each other.

In the morning, I wake up first.

Caleb’s face is relaxed in sleep, and one of his arms is slung around me.

A morning like this, where neither of us really needs to be anywhere, is so rare and so gentle,that it makes my heart hurt.

Secretly, I wish in my heart that things could stay like this forever.

It’s impossible, I know. But I yearn for it so dearly that it makes me ache.

Chapter 106

Rolling away from me, Caleb wakes up a while later. He stretches as he pulls himself out of bed. Since he’s naked, all of his bare skin is on tantalizing display. As hot as he is, though, right now, I’m not as turned on as I am disheartened.

Caleb’s wounds are almost all the way healed, so much so that many of them simply look like red marks that are fading even as I watch them.

While I’m happy that he’s healthy again, I’m also filled with trepidation and worry. There’ll be nothing holding us back now. When Tristan comes back to us, we will have to go to the capital. My little slice of heaven here will come to an end.

Caleb catches me staring with a melancholic look on his face. “What’s the problem?” he asks.

I don’t know how to explain without making him angry. We’re having a good morning, and I don’t want to ruin that. Besides, who knows how long it will be before Tristan returns?

Yet I feel the weight of the situation pressing down onto me. If I could stop us from having to go back, I would. But I know there’s nothing I can do to keep Caleb out here with me, hidden away, where we can be on equal levels socially.

Nothing will keep Caleb from reclaiming his throne.

“Harper,” Caleb says, turning more fully toward me. “I will not ask again.”

“I’m just thinking of what things will be like when we go back,” I admit.

He shrugs, seemingly relieved that my worries were about something as simple as that. “Things will return to how they’ve always been. George’s interference will not change the way I run my kingdom.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I say. Gathering my courage, I press, “What about us?”

Caleb laughs as he turns and begins to dress, kicking his legs into his pants. “What about us? That will not change, either. It will simply return to how it was before.”

“Oh,” I say, downtrodden, and glance away.

Caleb notices. He continues to dress, but he’s not laughing anymore. “Did you want things to change, Harper?”

Yes. Immensely. But when I try to imagine Caleb as King treating me as anything other than a servant, I just can’t manage it. He is still waiting for his perfect mate to come around, after all. Compared to that, I don’t have any chance of holding his interest for very long.

The fact that I’ve held his attention for this long is something of a miracle.

“Would you let me go?” I ask softly.

This time, he totally stills. “Go where?”

“Here,” I say. “I want to stay here, with the meadow and my garden. I wouldn’t bother anyone. I wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. Everyone can just assume I died.”

“No,” Caleb snaps with such fierceness that I look at him in surprise. Holding my gaze prisoner with his own, he doubles down, “Absolutely not.”

“Have I not been a good consort?” I ask. “Do you hate me so much that you would drag me back into imprisonment?”

“You have been a good consort,” Caleb says. “And it is precisely for that reason that I will not be leaving you here.”

“Please, Caleb…” Truly, I do not want to see him interact with the harem again, or worse. What if he does find his perfect mate when we return? Would I be forced to watch from his side as he cavorts around, fawning over some other woman?

I’d rather stay here, alone but safe for the rest of my life.

Caleb presses a knee onto the mattress and leans over me on the bed.

“I will not let you go,” he says fiercely. “I will not give up my favored consort.”

With that, he leans down and kisses me. It’s a claiming kind of kiss, with more bite than softness.

He’s reminding me that I still belong to him and that I always will, no matter where we are, inside the capital or not.

“There is no escaping me,” he growls and pushes me down onto the mattress again.

Two days later, Caleb is fully healed, doing pushups while I tend to the garden. He’s shirtless, leaving me entirely distracted – until a truck starts pulling up our driveway.

“In the house, Harper,” Caleb says, pushing himself up to his feet.

“No,” I tell him.

“Harper,” he growls.

“I told you before and I’ll tell you now,” I say. “If this is the enemy coming, then we’ll face them together.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to argue more, but the truck is moving at break-neck speeds up the drive. Instead, Caleb comes and stands directly before me…

As the truck comes closer, I see that it has the name of a catering company painted on the side. It skids to a stop beside the house, kicking dust up from the stone driveway.

Tristan hops out of the driver’s side. “King Caleb! I’ve returned. And I brought company.”

Seeing it’s Tristan, Caleb’s shoulders relax somewhat. He moves closer toward the truck, following Tristan as he moves around the back. I follow as well, staying back a few feet.

Relief rises in me, happy to see Tristan unharmed. At the same time, I feel dread, knowing there can be no more delay in Caleb’s return.

Tristan opens the back of the trunk, revealing a few of Caleb’s closest soldiers. They hop out of the back of the truck and line up. While they stand at attention, some cannot hide their pleased expressions, seeing their king again.

“I’ve brought a few loyal troops,” Tristan says. “They’ll be helpful discussing strategy. There are more still back in the underground. You have an army, my King, ready and waiting for your orders.”

“It’s good to see you alive, King Caleb,” says one of the bolder soldiers.

“I imagine so,” Caleb replies, “After that traitor George told everyone I was dead. As if I’d be felled by a bear and a handful of silver bullets.”

Tristan and I exchange a glance. It was a lot more than a handful of silver bullets. Plus, he also fell out of a window.

But I suppose telling too much truth to the soldiers might dim their hero worship. Right now, we need that sense of awe and surprise.

If everyone thinks he’s dead, it will ruin George all that much more when Caleb makes his grand return.

I’d still rather stay here, but I suppose a King’s return would be a sight worth seeing.

“We need to speed up our timeline,” Tristan says when the awestruck mood has mostly passed. “George has become emboldened in your absence. He is using planted bear soldiers to keep the Alpha Council prisoner. He is using threats against their families and entourages to ensure they don’t stand in the way of him crowning himself king.”

“That traitor wants to wear my crown?” Caleb asks, low and dangerous, the threat clear in his voice.

George made a huge mistake betraying a predator as fierce and deadly as Caleb. Caleb will never back down until he has retaken his throne and made George pay for usurping him.

“My King,” Tristan says. “It’s time for you to return. Your throne awaits.”

Caleb grins. “Finally.”

Chapter 107

Though Caleb is amped up to return to the capital and reclaim his throne, Tristan and the rest of the soldiers are showing a bit of fatigue.

In a quiet moment, away from the ears of the others, I speak gently to Caleb, “Tristan doesn’t look like he’s slept since he’s been gone. Perhaps leaving in the morning, after everyone has eaten and rested would be best.”

Caleb glares at me for the unsolicited advice. I expect a lecture, yet, the longer he looks at me, the more his features soften.

“Fine,” he says. “But feeding all of them is your responsibility.”

He likely means it as a punishment for my suggestion, but I know there is enough fish in the icebox. There’s also some ripe vegetables in the garden. We have enough food to feed the soldiers and ourselves. Honestly, I’m pleased to see none of it going to waste.

To Tristan, he says, “We’ll leave in the morning.”

Tristan nods, hiding his relief until Caleb’s back is turned.

Inside, I cook alone. Compared to having Caleb helping me, it feels slow and lonely, but I’m slowly moving toward acceptance once more.

In front of others, Caleb cannot act as anything less than a king. It would be an embarrassment, I suppose, for him to prepare his own. food.

I much prefer Caleb the man to Caleb the king, but I know I have no say in the matter.

When everyone has eaten, floor space is divvied up and claimed. Caleb looks at me, then tips his head toward the stairs.

“We’ll leave at dawn,” Caleb announces, then starts upstairs. Obediently, I follow along behind him. He enters the bedroom first. After I’ve entered, he closes the door behind me.

It’s our last night together like this – two people together in a country farmhouse. Back at the capital, any moments we share will be only ever between a king and a member of his harem. I will lose whatever human privileges I have.

As I stand at the foot of the bed, facing it, Caleb steps up behind me. Gently, he begins to undo the buttons of my dress. Leaning my head forward, I close my eyes, trying to burn each second of this softness into my memory.

Not that I mind when he’s rougher with me. Caleb always delivers on pleasure. But this tenderness… I know I’ll never have it again. That makes this moment all the more bittersweet.

Once the last button is undone, the entirety of my dress is only held up at the shoulders. Caleb pushes at my sleeves, tugging them off my shoulders. At once, the whole dress drops down to my waist, exposing my bare breasts. With another light tug, the dress rounds the curves of my hips and pools down on the floor.

He slides his index fingers under the sides of my panties and shifts them down. They fall to my ankles.

Behind me, I hear the shift of clothing. After a moment, when he presses his front against my back, I feel his hard muscles and warm skin. His dick is throbbing, pressing against the meat of my ass.

He lowers his lips to my ear. “We have company tonight, so you will have to be quiet. As much as I love hearing you scream…” He licks a long swipe up the shell of my ear. “Your noises are for me alone tonight. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Good.”

Grabbing my shoulders, he turns me to face him. When I do, I look up into his eyes.

He holds me at a distance at first, as his eyes drag down the length of my naked body. Then, when his gaze meets mine again, he drags me in and kisses me.

Without breaking our kiss, he slowly lowers me down onto the bed. He drags me up so that my head rests on the pillow, all while staying on top of me, crawling over me.

His hand finds my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple.

“Caleb…” I gasp.

“Quiet, Harper,” Caleb whispers, his voice a deep rumble. “Or I will stop.”

“Don’t stop,” I whisper in reply.

“Don’t make me…” Dipping his head, he catches that same nipple with his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue.

I squeeze my eyes and mouth shut, as I push my head back against the pillow. My back arches upwards, giving him more access. He hums, pleased.

After a moment, he pops off that breast to give the other the same attention. This time, however, he also slides a hand low, teasing my clit.

I clench my teeth to keep from making a sound.

Keeping his thumb over my clit, he angles his hand around to simultaneously slip two fingers inside of me. What he feels is him removing his mouth and his fingers, so that he can look down at how wet they are.

“Your pussy is impatient,” he says, his voice a breath. “I better not keep it waiting.”

Pushing my legs apart, he angles himself between them. Holding his dick with one hand and my thigh with the other, he aligns himself with my entrance and slips inside.

Even biting my bottom lip, I can’t stop my moan. So I cover my mouth with one hand. With the other, I claw at the sheets, bunching them together in my closed fist.

Eyes hooded but watching me, he pushes in all the way to the hilt. The way he’s up on his knees, I anticipate a deep, rough ride. Instead, he leans over me, covering my body with his own, bringing his face very close to mine.

Like this, his thrusts are shallow, but gods, it still feels good.

What makes it more intense is, with how close his face is, I can look nowhere else but his eyes.

The way he looks at me, the way his hands find mine, even the way he’s thrusting in and out of me….

It is all so terribly tender it makes my heart sing and ache at the same time.

This isn’t fucking…

This is making love…

A sob claws at my throat, but I shove it down as I do all my other noises.

He doesn’t love me. This softness is a fluke. He just needs to be quiet.

My heart doesn’t understand though.

Gods, it feels so good… But it hurts so much…

I close my eyes.

“Look at me,” Caleb whispers, voice as deep as a growl. “Don’t you dare look away?”

I open my eyes again, watching his as he takes his pleasure in my body, and I find mine with his.

When I cum, he sees every inch of me, deep down to my soul. This close, I can hide nothing from him.

After, I found no sleep that night.

I roll out of bed before dawn and sneak downstairs to make breakfast. The soldiers were all awake to the scent of what was left of the bacon and eggs. I throw in some potatoes, and there’s enough for everyone.

After breakfast, I clean the kitchen, leaving it much like we found it.

While everyone else prepares the truck to leave, I stay in the kitchen, holding my small wolf keepsake in my hand. I’d meant to carry it forever as a memento of this adventure. But. Knowing the life I’m going back to, maybe it would hurt too much to be reminded of the freedoms and the softness of what happened in this farmhouse.

With a heavy heart, I place the figure down on the counter and turn my back.

“It’s time,” Caleb says. I didn’t notice him watching me from the doorway.

“I’m ready,” I say and moving past him, walk out of the house and to the truck without looking back.

Caleb watches Harper go, before turning his attention to the small steel wolf she left on the counter in the kitchen. She’d looked at it first. Her leaving it behind was intentional.

Maybe she wants to forget this place.

Maybe he should too.

Yet he still walks toward the counter and pockets the little wolf, before he turns to leave.

Chapter 108

Caleb and I, as well as most of the soldiers, sit in the back of the truck, while Tristan and one soldier sit up front. The ride to the capital is long, especially without a seat cushion, but not one of us complains.

Without any light from outside, we are left in total darkness. As the trip progresses, Caleb slips his arm around my waist and tugs me closer against his side, farther from the others.

“She is a member of my harem, soldier,” Caleb growls. “I don’t care how loyal you are, I will protect what’s mine.”

“I didn’t mean offense, King Caleb. I apologize,” says one of the soldiers.

“Apologize by controlling yourself,” Caleb adds.

I don’t understand what’s happening. In the dark, I can only make out shadowing figures. Still, I get the distinct impression Caleb just saved me from something, so after inching even closer to him, I put myself on guard to the rest of the people around me.

Another hour passes in uncomfortable silence. Then Caleb says, “We’re almost to the gates.”

“How can you tell?” I ask as the other soldiers shuffle, preparing their weaponry.

“I’m king,” he says, like that solves everything.

I continue to stare at where I think his face is in the dark. Eventually, he relents.

“I am the strongest Alpha in the kingdom, Harper. I can sense it.”

“Smell?”

“In part,” he says.

As I was never gifted a wolf myself, many of his abilities are a mystery to me. He acts as though he has some kind of sixth sense that lets him determine where he is in the kingdom by feeling alone. I don’t really know if I should believe such a thing is possible, but with Caleb, anything seems possible.

He’s so powerful, so strong and capable. He should have died falling out of that window. Instead, he’s here now like nothing ever physically happened to him. It’s a wonder.

He’s a wonder.

“Quiet now. We’re approaching the gates,” Caleb says.

We all still, feel as the truck comes to a stop. Through the walls of the back of the truck, I can hear muffled voices, but none of what is being said.

There’s a moment where Caleb’s hand clutches tighter around me. But, then, in the next instant, he relaxes again. The voices shout something, and the truck starts up again.

“We’re through,” Caleb says. We feel the shift as the truck descends down the corkscrew road, traveling deeper and deeper into the underground.

Once we reach the bottom, the road straightens out. We stay silent as the truck follows along a few roads, turning here and there. Eventually, we come to a stop again.

“We’re here,” Caleb says.

I brace myself, expecting a fight right away, even though logically, I know the plan was to meet at a safe house first to connect with Caleb’s other loyal soldiers.

Someone outside unlocks the back of the truck and the door pushes open. I squeeze my eyes against the sudden light. Even the dim light of the underground burns my eyes compared to the total darkness in the back of the truck.

One by one the soldiers file out. I follow along behind them, blinking quickly to try to help my eyes adjust.

As I do, I notice many disparaged people standing around an old warehouse, all of their eyes on the back of the truck.

It’s not me they are waiting to see so I quickly step out of the way.

Caleb hops out next. A few gasps sound from the crowd, along with a few, “Thank the gods.” Some of the people even fall to their knees, bowing before their returned king.

Caleb stands as regal as I’ve ever seen him, proudly taking in the sight. “My thanks to each and every one of you for standing against the traitor who has taken my place. When my crown is returned, I will see boons placed upon each of you as my gratitude for your loyalty.”

More people bow. An older woman near me starts crying.

Through their eyes, I can see how beloved Caleb truly is by his people. They don’t care how ruthless he can be within his palace walls. To them, they only see the man who provides.

Tristan then comes to Caleb’s side. “I’ll rally the troops. We’ll be ready to leave on your go.”

“How much time do we have before this ceremony?” Caleb asks, disdain clear in his voice.

“5 hours,” Tristan says.

“Good.”

As Tristan hurries off and the others return to their work, Caleb approaches me, takes me by the elbow, and drags me off to a corner of the warehouse.

There, he affixes me with a stern look. “This is where you will stay until I come and collect you again.”

“I can help,” I tell him at once.

He sighs as if he’d already resigned himself to this fight. “You can help, by staying out of the way.”

“I can wield a blade. The Pitmaster taught me.”.

“You could scarcely defend yourself against a few lions. How do you expect you would fare against bears and their silver bullets?”

“You are underestimating me,” I say, annoyed.

“I am impartially judging your level of ability, Harper. If I bring you into the palace with me, I will spend more time protecting you than I will fighting my own battles.”

“That’s not true.”

Maybe he’s right about the actual fighting part. I know my blade skills are mediocre at best, and wouldn’t do a hell of a lot against a bear with a gun. But I also know, that if I hadn’t been there when Caleb needed me, he would have been found and killed in that alleyway.

If I’m not there next time, who will shield him when he cannot shield himself? Can I fully trust even his most loyal soldiers to place his life above their own?

I don’t want to insult Caleb by suggesting he can’t take care of himself. He’d take that personally and will stop this argument with a firm No. That he is even entertaining this conversation at all means that I have a chance, however small, of convincing him to bring me along.

“I won’t be a burden. I can carry my own,” I say.

“Do you still have your knife?” he asks, frowning.

I reach into the pocket of my farm dress and withdraw my weapon. Still, on its cover, it looks more like a pen.

“And you expect that to take down a bear,” he says.

“It will take down whatever I need it to.”

Caleb narrows his eyes at me. “If that’s true, I propose this… If you can prove it, I will let you come. Otherwise, you will stay here without further argument.

“How can I prove it?” I ask him. I’m determined to prove myself, whatever it takes. Does he want me to show him the different stances I know? Perhaps he will roll in a training dummy or see my form as I lunge at some of the many wooden boxes in the room.

The corners of his mouth quirk upward into a smug kind of smile. “Easy. We have a duel.”

Chapter 109

Caleb and I move to the center of the warehouse. The soldiers and other loyal citizens make room for use. When word gets out that we are going to spare, we earn ourselves a sizeable crowd. They should be getting ready for the fight ahead, but I suppose watching the king spar with member of his harem is too curious a sight to ignore.

When he attacks the ceremony later today, Caleb will wear body armor, but he chooses nothing of the sort right now, wearing only a black t-shirt and black slacks with heavy black boots.

I’m still in my dress from the farm, though I’ve sliced a slit up the side to give myself more mobility. Caleb really doesn’t like that and has been glaring at that slit since I made it.

“Well?” he says, gesturing with one hand for me to attack him. “Come on. I’ll let you try twice before I do anything but dodge.”

“I don’t want to actually hurt you,” I say.

He laughs, as do a few onlookers.

“Consort, you can try your very best. See what happens. I promise you won’t hurt me.”

His cool dismissal of my talents lights a fire within me. I decide not to hold back.

Readying myself, I fall into one of the stances that the Pitmaster showed me. My knife is much smaller than the blade she provided me, but the principles are the same. My enemies are always going to be bigger than me.

I had to catch them by surprise. I had to be quicker.

Could I be quicker than the king of alphas?

Unlikely, but I was going to try my best.

In a flash, I rush forward, blade first. I slash at him.

He leans back, and my knife slices through the air, not once catching on his skin or the fabric of his shirt.

“That’s one attempt missed,” Caleb says, righting himself. “Try again.”

I use the momentum I already have, to continue a spin, then follow- through with a second attack, slicing upwards this time.

He turns to the side, moving at high speeds but with a smoothness that makes the action appear casual. He smirks like he’s proud, even though some of the onlookers chuckle again.

“That’s two,” Caleb says. “Remember, on this third one, I get to do more than dodge. Come at me again.”

Righting myself, I think about the best course of attack. I could angle for some kind of distraction technique. But the first thing that comes to mind is kissing him, not something I want to do in front of all these people, and not likely something I would do in an actual combat situation.

No, what I need to do is just stick to my guns.

I lower myself down low and prepare for my third and final attack.

Now!

I dart forward.

At the same moment, Caleb reaches out, grabs my outstretched wrists, and twists just enough to make me drop the knife. As it clatters onto the ground, he tugs me against him, trapping me with his arms around my waist.

“I win,” he says, smirking smugly down at me. The onlookers clap. Caleb ignores them. As he continues to stare at me, his good humor entirely fades.

Is he thinking, like I am, that his winning means my staying behind, which means this is goodbye?

“You need more training,” Caleb says, “but it will have to suffice for now. You will stay here with the other non-combatants. It should be safe here, but if the worst should happen…”

I can see now that his reason for leaving me behind isn’t just to keep me safe. It’s because I’m one of the few people he can trust to try to save his remaining loyal followers.

Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, “Do what you have to, to survive, Harper.”

“I will,” I tell him. His words have soothed some of the pain of losing so spectacularly.

Releasing his hold on me, he lifts a hand toward my face but doesn’t quite touch. It hovers for a long moment as he stares at me like he’s searching for something.

“King Caleb,” Tristan says, materializing nearby. “It’s time to go.”

Caleb looks at me a moment more, then turns without another word to me. With Tristan’s help, he straps on the armored vest, then, leading the soldiers, slips out through the side door with them following behind.

The plan, as I understand it, is for Caleb and the soldiers to slip in through an open servants’ entrance. They mean to enter undetected, making a grand entrance at the ceremony itself, running George’s plans in the most dramatic of fashions.

I worry for them, for Caleb and for Tristan, while also wishing I could be there to see the shock on George’s face.

The King is only gone fifteen minutes when another soldier bursts through the entrance of the warehouse, panting so hard, that he looks like he might keel over.

“Where is the king?” the soldier asks, looking around. “I have a message.”

“Rest yourself, son,” says one of the older woman non-combatants. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“No time. I have to deliver a message.”

“They’ve already left,” someone else says.

The young man curses.

“What’s the message,” I say, stepping forward.

The soldier looks at me confused. “Consort Harper. You’re alive?” This man must have worked in the palace, to recognize me.

“The message,” someone else presses, urgency in their voice.

“The servants’ entrance… the one we’d planned on using to enter… It’s been sealed off,” the out-of-breath soldier says. “There’s only one open entrance in and out of the palace and it’s highly guarded.”

“The soldiers will be stranded,” says a woman.

“Or they’ll be mowed down at the checkpoint.”

“I can take the message to them,” one of the others says, a boy too young for combat. He’s already rushing toward the door.

“Wait,” I say stopping him.

Several pairs of distrusting eyes turn to me.

“If you tell Caleb the way is shut, he will go through the one that is open, even if it leads to casualties. We need a different option to present to him. Does anyone have any other ideas?”

“He might not,” says one of the women. “My husband is with him. I’m not going to hold up this message so you can talk hypotheticals.”

“No,” the older woman says. “Harper’s right. The King will make a judgment call, and he has always been more prone to action than waiting.” The older woman nods to one of the other non-combatants. “Show her what’s in that crate over there.”

“This is wasting time,” says the impatient woman.

An older man leads me to a stack of crates. Inside is a supply of dynamite.

“They could blow it from outside,” the old woman says, but as it’s a servants’ entrance, the servants’ quarters are just inside. It could lead to many innocent casualties. But if the servants were warned. “But if they are warned before the explosives go off…”

I meet the old woman’s eyes and understand her intent. Someone has to go in and warn them.

“Does anyone have any servant clothes?” I ask.

“We’ve already abandoned our posts,” the older woman says. “If we are recognized, we will be immediately killed.”

“I’m not suggesting any of you go in…” I say.

The impatient woman frowns at me. “You can’t mean for it to be you.”

“If I’m caught, I might not be immediately killed,” I say. “I’m the only one who can say that. Give me the clothes. Someone else ran the dynamite to Caleb. But please tell him to give me a head start.”

“He won’t be pleased when he finds out it’s you who went inside,” the old man says.

“Then don’t tell him,” I say and rush to change.

Chapter 110

With no time to waste, as soon as I’m dressed, I rush out of the warehouse and head down the streets toward the palace.

My plan is flimsy at best, but someone has to take the risk to save those innocent servants. I’m not willing to let anyone else take the risk, despite my promise to Caleb.

He’s going to be mad as hell when he finds out, but… well, he can scold me afterwards, when that door crumbles down without hurting anyone and we are all safely out of this.

When I near the palace, I slow my run to a brisk, purposeful walk, not wanting to draw attention. Fortunately, Tristan’s intel was right. Even though the ceremony is in a few short hours, there are still tons of servants and vendors bustling in and out of the only open entrance.

Tempers are high, impatience flaring both from those waiting and those having to check every single ID. Eventually, the vendors and servants, pressed for time, start taking their chances, slipping past the checkpoint in waves. The soldiers, seemingly more annoyed that they were given this job than they care about the security of the palace, look the other way as the servants slip inside.

I stick close to one batch of servants and slip in with the next wave. At this point, the soldiers seem to give up entirely and just wave us through.

“Be quick about it, then. Steward George is losing patience with these delays,” says one of the soldiers, hurrying us through.

I keep my head down as I move away from the pack and towards the servants’ quarters. Unfortunately, the entrance to the quarters is barred by two familiar-looking soldiers. Traitors, who, during the battle, sided with George over their own king.

I turn my head away, but I’m not fast enough.

“Was that…?” one of them asks.

As I hurry away, he calls, “Hey, you! Wait!”

I can’t wait. Instead, I take off running. I’m not familiar with these lower floors, but I remember where the stairwell is. I rush there now, sliding around people. In the stairwell, I rush up, two stairs at a time. I’m a floor up when the door below opens.

“I swear to the gods, that servant looked like Harper from the harem,” says one soldier to another.

“You are imagining things,” says the other.

“Then why did she run?”

I rush up the stairs, but I only make it to the floor of my old room, before they get too close. In a panic, I dart out of the stairwell and rush through these old familiar hallways.

There, I turn a corner and collide with a familiar woman.

“Bethany?”

She gapes at me as I gape at her. “Harper? What are you doing here?”

“There isn’t much time,” I tell her. “They are going to catch me?”

“Who is?”

“Bethany, you have to warn the servants to move out of the lower floors of the servants’ quarters. Caleb and the others are going to use explosives to get through the door and -“

“There she is! Servant! Stop that woman.”

To protect Bethany’s reputation, I grab her by the shoulders and pretend we’re grappling.

“There’s no time,” I tell her with urgency. “Tell them. Get as many people clear as you can.”

“I will,” she assures me, just as the soldiers arrive.

They grab me by the arms and yank me back. The soldier who suspected me gets a good look.

“It is her! Look!”

The other guard peers at me. “I’ll be damned. We thought you were dead.”

“Maybe she knows where the King’s body is,” the first soldier says.

The other guard shakes his head. “Better to leave this to George.”

“Steward George,” says the first guard. “If you keep forgetting, you’ll get us assigned an even worse duty.”

“Shit,” the other guard says.

As they drag me off, I glance behind me, relieved to see Bethany already turning the other direction, toward the servants’ quarters on this floor.

The two guards drag me up the stairwell, then down the hallway to the doors leading to the hall.

“Keep her here,” says the first guard. “I’ll go in and see if George is of a mind to see her.”

As the second guard nods, the first slips into the room. It takes a few minutes, but then an angry booming voice erupts so loudly, I can hear it even from the hallway.

“Bring her here at once, you imbecile!”

The second guard doesn’t wait for the first to reemerge before he shoves open the door to the Hall and drags me inside.

With the Hall, decorations are still being arranged. Servants are on tall ladders, draping silver streamers around the beams in the ceiling. Others are setting up tables near the side of the room, and covering them with silver tablecloths.

One is unrolling a long narrow carpet down the center of the room, from the doorway to the throne. At the end of it, standing just in front of the stage that holds the throne, stands George.

The first guard rushes down the carpet toward us. The servant laying the carpet glares at him behind his back.

“Now. Now. Faster,” the first guard says.

Each grabbed one of my arms, and the two servants rushed me to the front of the room. They force me down to my knees in front of George, who stares down his nose at me.

Roughly, he grabs me by the chin and lifts my face upwards to see my face.

“So it is you. Harper, of the fallen King’s harem. The fallen King’s favorite,” George sneers.

Calling him fallen is premature, but knowing surprise is to Caleb’s advantage, I don’t correct George now.

“Dressed as a servant, sneaking through my palace,” George continues.

This palace does not belong to you. I bite back at the words.

Although to George, he must believe that he does. He’s already wearing some of Caleb’s clothing, garments of a monarch, with golden trim woven through the seams. As George is much narrower and smaller than Caleb, the clothes are ill-fitting. The addition of a gaudy silver belt does not hide it, making it bunched in places instead.

The other vendors are rushing. But the tailors likely had to tell George no outright.

I wonder what became of them.

“I assumed you died,” George says. His finger strokes the side of my cheek. When I try to shrink away from him, he grips me harder at the chin. “Why have you come back? What is it you hope to accomplish?”

I keep my mouth closed, refusing to answer his questions.

“It is in your best interest if you talk to me now,” George says. “Else I’ll have to mar that pretty face of yours. Wouldn’t that be a waste?” He smirks with malice. “You know, after I am crowned, everything that belonged to him will belong to me instead. Including his harem. Including you.”

If he tries it, I will fight back tooth and nail, whatever it takes to stop him. He will not find me a willing victim, no matter if he wears the crown or not.

If it even comes to that.

Down below, back in the underground, I imagine Caleb has received the message and the dynamite. It’s only a matter of time before George’s plans and dreams go up in literal smoke.

Caleb grabs the messenger by the front of his shirt. “You let Harper go in there? Alone?”

“King Caleb,” Tristan says, a soft warning that Caleb is getting distracted.

With the dynamite, they will lose their initial surprise.

Shoving the messenger away, Caleb turns to Tristan instead. “This ramps up our timeline. I don’t care if the timing doesn’t match up. We are moving everything forward.”

“Yes, King Caleb.”

Thinking of Harper, Caleb’s blood pressure skyrockets.

If she’s not dead by the time he gets there, he might just kill her himself for causing him all this worry.

If she’d just stayed…

Of all the times to defy him.

“Get that dynamite in place,” Caleb barks. “Everyone get ready. Stealth is no longer an option.”

The soldiers salute.

Someday he will find a way to force Harper to actually listen to his commands.

If she’s alive.

He growls, low and dangerous, already feeling the shift of his inner wolf pull at him.

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