“Sorcha is fine.” Mother squeezed her hands warmly. Then she looked at me. “She has not completed the bond.”
“We were interrupted,” I said dryly. “By Aurion crashing through a portal into her bookstore.”
“Bookstore?”
“I will explain later. Right now, we need to discuss strategy. Andreas. The throne. What has been happening in my absence.”
Mother’s expression shifted immediately. The warmth bled away, replaced by the shrewd, strategic mind that had helped my father rule for decades.
“You are right. Sit. All of you.” She gestured to the chairs around her sitting area. “We have much to discuss and little time to do it.”
We sat. Wen was still looking around like she expected to wake up any moment. I took her hand, threaded our fingers together. Through the bond, I could feel her overwhelm. Her anger atme was still there, burning hot beneath layers of shock and disorientation.
“Andreas has been spreading rumors,” Mother began without preamble. “He claims you fled. That you were afraid to face him in combat. That you are unworthy of the throne.”
“That is a lie.”
“I know it is a lie. But lies repeated often enough become truth in the eyes of those who wish to believe them.” She leaned forward. “The nobles are restless. Some support you. Some support Andreas. Many are simply waiting to see who proves strongest. If you do not return and face him soon, he will claim the throne by default.”
“How soon?”
“Three days. He has called for a formal challenge. If you do not appear, you forfeit.” Her expression was grave. “And if you forfeit, Malachar, it will be nearly impossible to reclaim the throne later. The nobles will see it as confirmation that Andreas was right. That you are weak. Unworthy.”
Three days to prepare. To train. To figure out how to defeat Andreas while keeping Wen safe in a world she had never seen before.
“Then we have no time to waste,” I said. “Aurion, I need you to gather those loyal to me. Quietly. I do not want Andreas knowing I am here until the challenge.”
“I will have them assembled by morning. They are ready to move on your word.”
“Good.” I looked at Mother. “I need the challenge to be public. Witnessed by all the nobles. I want no question of legitimacy when I win.”
“When you win?” Wen’s voice was quiet. “Mal, what if you don’t?”
I looked at her. At my mate who I had dragged into this without her permission. Who was sitting in a world she did not understand, surrounded by wolves and politics and danger.
“Then Andreas takes the throne and you return to the human realm under Aurion’s protection,” I said simply. “The mate bond would not give you rights here if I am dead.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?!”
“But I will not lose,” I continued. “I have too much to live for now. Too much to protect.”
I squeezed her hand. Through the bond, I sent her every ounce of certainty I had. Every bit of determination.
She squeezed back, but through the bond I felt mostly anger. Hot, burning fury at being dragged here without consent, at being thrown into danger, at having no control over any of this. There was affection buried beneath it, but the anger was dominant and justified.
“Then let us begin,” Mother said. “We have much to prepare before the challenge. We must ensure my son keeps his throne.”
She smiled at Wen. “Welcome to the family, dear. I apologize that your introduction to our world is quite so dramatic.”
Wen laughed. It was slightly hysterical. “Yeah. Dramatic is one word for it.”
I pulled her closer. Pressed a kiss to her temple. “I am sorry, little mate. For all of this. But I will make it right. I swear it.”
She looked up at me, and through the bond I felt the full force of her rage. “You better. Because when this is over? We’re having a very long conversation about boundaries and consent and not kidnapping your girlfriend through portals.”
“Mate,” I corrected. “Not girlfriend. Mate.”
“We’re having that conversation too.”
