“Then we will handle it. Together.” She smiled at me. Warm and genuine. “You are not alone, Gwendolyn. You have family here now, whether you chose to come here or not.”
Family. The word made my throat tight.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “That we’re meeting like this. That your first impression of me is... this mess.”
“This mess, as you call it, is not your doing.” Her expression turned shrewd. “My son made a choice. A poor one, perhaps, but one born of love and fear. He could not bear the thought of losing you.”
“So he kidnapped me through a portal.”
“Yes. It was foolish. Reckless. Entirely like him when his emotions are involved.” She sipped her tea. “He has always been this way. Even as a boy. When he loved something, he held on with everything he had.”
Despite everything, I was curious. “What was he like? As a kid?”
Her smile softened. Grew distant with memory. “Intense. Serious beyond his years. He took his responsibilities very seriously, even when he was barely tall enough to hold a practice sword.” She laughed quietly. “His brother was the wild one. Aurion would run off to explore, get into trouble, come home covered in mud. But Malachar? He would follow his father everywhere. Study everything. Train until his hands bled.”
I could picture it. Young Mal, determined and focused and already carrying the weight of the world.
“He loved fiercely, though,” Sorcha continued. “When his father died, he mourned for months. Would not speak of it. Would not show his grief. But I would hear him at night, alone in his room.” Her eyes were shiny. “He feels everything deeply. He simply learned to hide it. To be the king everyone needed him to be.”
“Cold and controlled,” I said, remembering what she’d mentioned yesterday.
“Yes. Here, in Ravenor, he is the Wolf King - feared and respected, but rarely soft or open with anyone.” She looked at me directly. “But with you? He is different. I have never seen him like this. Laughing. Smiling. Willing to give up everything for one person.”
My chest tightened. “I like that side of him.”
“So do I.” She reached across and took my hand. Squeezed. “He loves you, Gwendolyn. More than the throne. More than his duty. More than his own life. That is both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.”
The lump in my throat threatened to choke me. I squeezed back, unable to speak.
“He will fight well today,” Sorcha said firmly. “Because he knows you are watching. Because he knows he must return to you. That will make him stronger than Andreas could ever be.”
I took a shaky breath. Let it out slowly. The terror was still there, coiled in my stomach, but it felt more manageable now. Less overwhelming.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You are family now. This is what family does.” She stood. “Come. It is time. The challenge begins soon.”
My heart lurched into my throat. “Already?”
“Yes. We must take our positions before the nobles arrive.”
We stood and moved to a section of wall that looked completely normal. Sorcha pressed her hand against a specific stone, and a door swung open silently. The secret passages.
We moved through the narrow corridors in darkness. Sorcha knew the way by heart, her steps confident despite the lack of light. I followed close behind, one hand on the wall to guide me.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes, we reached another hidden door. Sorcha pressed her ear against it. Listened. Then pushed it open slowly.
We emerged into a side corridor near the throne room. Aurion was waiting there, standing guard. He nodded when he saw us.
“Is he ready?” Sorcha asked quietly.
“As ready as he can be.” Aurion’s expression was grim. “Andreas has been spreading poison all morning. The nobles are restless.”
“Where’s Mal?” I asked, looking around. The corridor was empty except for us.
Aurion met my eyes. “He will be here. He wanted to make an entrance. Show strength.”
Great. Dramatic werewolf kings and their theatrics.
