29
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Caelan
I hated this plan.
I hated every single thing about it. But my father was right. We couldn’t risk Riley’s life. Not while the poison was still in her system, not while we had no antidote, not while whoever was behind this held all the power.
We were in his private study, the warded room where secrets were meant to stay secret, except someone had proven that even this sanctuary wasn’t safe.
“We follow what the threats demand,” my father said, pacing the study. “Publicly. Make them think they’ve won.”
“You want me to reject her.” The words tasted like ash in my mouth. My wolf howled in protest, clawing at my insides, refusing to accept what I was being asked to do.
“I want you to stage a rejection. There’s a difference.”
“Not to Riley. Not when she already thinks I’ve betrayed her.”
“Which is why it will be believable.” My father stopped pacing, turned to face me. His expression was grim, the face of a king who had made impossible decisions before. “Think, Caelan. Whoever is behind this, Vix or someone working with her, they’re watching. They knew about the pregnancy before we announced it. They delivered a note while we were in a warded room. They have eyes everywhere.”
“And if we don’t comply, they stop sending antidotes they might be holding over our heads,” Elspeth added quietly. She was sitting by the fireplace, her hands folded in her lap, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. “If they believe they’ve won, they might get careless. Reveal themselves.”
“Patt is still searching for Vix,” my father continued. “But she’s gone to ground. If we can draw out whoever is helping her, whoever delivered those notes, we have a chance.”
My fists clenched at my sides. “And Riley?”
“Will be protected. Thessa will stay with her. We’ll move her somewhere safe the moment this is done.”
“She’ll hate me.”
“She already thinks she hates you.” My mother’s voice was gentle. Too gentle. The kindness in it made me want to scream. “At least this way, she stays alive long enough for you to explain.”
Wonderful. My mother, the optimist.
I closed my eyes and breathed, trying to find the cold, calculating part of myself that made decisions in battle, that weighed costs and benefits without emotion.
It wasn’t there. All I felt was agony. My wolf pacing inside me, whining, refusing to accept this. Rejecting a mate went against every instinct we possessed. It was a violation of the sacred bond. An abomination.
But my father was right. If I didn’t do this, if I defied the threats, Riley died. Our child died.
I would endure anything to prevent that, anything at all, even this.
“Fine,” I said. The word felt torn from my chest. “I’ll do it.”
The plan was set. We would wait until the healer cleared Riley to leave the infirmary. Then I would summon her to the throne room, in front of the entire court. I would reject her publicly, formally, in a way that could not be misinterpreted.
And I wouldn’t tell her it was staged.
My father insisted on that part. If Riley knew, her reaction wouldn’t be genuine. Whoever was watching would see through the act. The threat would remain.
She had to believe it was real.
I wanted to vomit. The glamorous life of royalty. Scheming, lying, and destroying the person you loved most to keep them alive.
Hours passed. I spent them wearing a path in the floor, planning, trying not to think about what I was about to do. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. The way she looked at me when we first met. The way she smiled when I made her laugh. The way she said my name when she was falling apart in my arms.
I was about to destroy all of that.
