When we’re alone, Esme turns to me with an expression I can’t quite read. “You with me, Sam?” she asks. There’s something tentative in her voice, as if she thinks I might have doubts.
The question is so absurd it almost makes me laugh. As if I would ever leave this woman’s side again. As if anything in any realm could convince me to abandon her now.
“Always,” I reply without a shadow of hesitation. “Wherever you go, I follow. That’s not changing.”
The relief that washes over her face shows me how much she needed to hear those words.
I watch sunrise paint Kasamere Forest in shades of gold and amber, long shadows stretch between the ancient blackbark trees like fingers reaching toward the cottage. Esme sleeps, finally claimed by exhaustion after the revelations that turned her world upside down yet again. My wolf has been restless all night, prowling beneath my skin with an agitation I can’t shake. Every instinct I possess is screaming that Locke will return soon, and I’ve spent the past hour pacing the perimeter of Cashira’s property, scenting for threats that may or may not exist.
A twig snaps somewhere behind me, and I spin around, hackles rising automatically. My body drops into a defensive crouch before my brain catches up.
“Easy there, wolf.” Cashira stands at the edge of her garden, a woven basket of herbs balanced in her arms. Her wild silver curls catch the morning light, and there’s amusement in her eyes. “The forest is alive here, yes, but not everything that moves through it is a threat.”
I exhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax though my wolf remains on high alert. “In my experience, most things are.”
She studies me with the same penetrating gaze that reminds me so much of Esme’s, like she can see straight through flesh and bone to the fears I try to keep buried. “You’re afraid.”
It’s not a question, and I don’t bother trying to deny what’s probably written across my face in bold letters. “I’m a wolf in a world built for fae. I don’t belong here.”
“And yet,” she says, setting her basket down carefully and brushing dirt from her hands, “you’re bound to someone who does. Do you think that’s coincidence, Samuel Baker?”
The way she says my full name makes me uneasy, like she can read more than just surface emotions. Like she knows things about me that I haven’t figured out yet myself. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Never have. I believe in fate, in bonds that can’t be broken no matter what tries to tear them apart.”
“Like the mate bond you share with my daughter.” She nods approvingly. “But are you prepared for what that means now? What it will mean going forward?”
My jaw tightens involuntarily. “I’ll protect her. Always. With everything I have.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her voice grows gentle but insistent as she picks a sprig of something fragrant from her basket, rolling it between weathered fingers. “When a wolf mates, it’s for life, isn’t it? That’s the foundation of everything you believe about love and loyalty.”
“Yes.” The word comes out rougher than I intended.
“And if that life spans centuries?” Her gaze becomes penetrating, almost uncomfortable in its intensity. “Fae live a very long time, Samuel. Longer than most mortals can comprehend, longer than shifters even. My daughter is half-fae, which means her lifespan could be measured in centuries rather than decades. Have you considered what that means for your future together?”
The question hits me like a physical blow, driving air from my lungs. Of course I hadn’t considered it, couldn’t have, when I didn’t know what she truly was. But now the implications ripple through me like stones thrown into still water. Will I age andwither while she remains young and vibrant? Will I leave her alone after promising her forever? Will I become nothing more than a brief chapter in a life that stretches beyond anything I can imagine?
“I see you haven’t,” Cashira observes, and her voice softens with something that might be sympathy. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. There are ways, of course. Paths that might align your lifespans, rituals that could extend your years to match hers. But they come with prices, as everything in Vanir does. Magic always demands payment.”
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “Tell me.”
“In time.” She glances toward the tree line where shadows still cling to the massive trunks. “For now, you should know that Locke Erron isn’t just any fae soldier sent to fetch royal bastards. He’s the son of General Erron, the king’s right hand and most trusted advisor. If he’s been personally dispatched to escort Esme, it means King Ayla is taking no chances with her safety. It also means her presence at court is about to shake the foundations of everything the Night Court believes about power and legitimacy.”
My wolf growls at the mere mention of Locke’s name. There’s something about that arrogant bastard that sets every territorial instinct I have on fire. It goes beyond the usual dominance bullshit that comes with being an Alpha, it’s the way he looks at Esme, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle that belongs to him. Like he has some claim I can’t understand.
“He’s dangerous,” I mutter, hands clenching into fists.
“All fae are dangerous,” Cashira replies matter-of-factly, tucking herbs into the deep pockets of her apron. “But Locke Erron is loyal to a fault, it’s been bred into his bones through generations of military service. If the king has commanded him to protect Esme, he’ll do it with his life if necessary. That doesn’tmean you should trust him blindly. Just that you might find yourself fighting alongside him rather than against him.”
The very thought makes my skin crawl. Working with someone who clearly wants my mate, pretending alliance while every instinct screams at me to rip his throat out.
“Great,” I say flatly.
Her smile holds dark amusement. “The Night Court operates on power plays and shifting alliances, politics as warfare by other means. You’ll need to learn quickly if you want to survive there, let alone protect Esme.” She pauses, studying me carefully. “Wolves aren’t common in Vanir, but they are respected for their strength and unwavering loyalty. Use that to your advantage. Be the steady force in a world of chaos.”
I’m about to respond when a familiar scent catches on the morning breeze, God damn night-blooming jasmine mixed with steel and something darker. Locke. He’s approaching from the east, moving through the trees with that unnatural grace that marks him as something other than mortal.
“He’s here,” I growl in frustration.
Cashira nods calmly. “Wake Esme. It’s time to face whatever comes next.”
