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His confession sends shockwaves through me. Death?
“It’s not something I’d ever force on you,” Soren assures me, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “But if we pursue this path, I’d want it to happen before we marry. You should have the chance to fully understand, to learn to control your new abilities, not just for you, for Max also. You’ll be quicker, stronger, and your instincts will go haywire for a little while.”
I nod. The enormity of it all crashes over me like a wave. My heart stutters in my chest. I think of my grandmother, of Max, of the life I’ve started to build here. The thought of losing it all terrifies me.
“I’m scared, Soren,” I confess, hating how small my voice sounds. The possibility of death hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. “I don’t know if I can…”
He pulls me close, his arms enveloping me in warmth. “We don’t have to decide anything now,” he murmurs into my hair. “Whatever happens, whatever you choose, I’m here. We can push the wedding back.”
“We can push it back?” I ask him and he nods. “But your mother has already—”
“She’ll understand. Now we really are getting married. I won’t lose you, Bree.”
“You wouldn’t be losing me,” I remind him.
He sighs heavily. “I am King, Bree. You will be my Queen. My weak spot, every kingdom will know that.”
“But you’re the only kingdom.”
He shakes his head. “There are other kingdoms; not as well known, they prefer to keep to themselves and out of the media. They will come for you.”
“That’s why your wife died, isn’t it? They sent people for her, sent the rogues?”
He shakes his head. “We aren’t sure; we never figured that out. All we learned was it was a rogue pack. The neighboring kingdoms denied any hand in it.”
“But you believe they did?”
He nods. “It’s why I take Max with me everywhere. It puts him in the limelight. But by doing so in a way that has protected him, my movements are watched by the councils, so are his. He is also too young right now to take over my place so not a threat to them.”
“How was your wife a threat?”
“A queen can rule without a king, just as I can without a queen. If I die, that title remains, especially if you’re carrying my heir. We can discuss it more later. For now just think about what I’ve said. I’ll speak with my mother about postponing the wedding.”
“Good thing she hasn’t sent invites out yet,” I tell him.
He nods, but I know she is meant to this week, though I wonder how upset she’ll be once she learns we are pushing the wedding back.
The grand castle looms ahead, its stone walls towering above the turrets reaching for the lingering clouds from the storm last night. My heart pounds as we cross the threshold together, the oversized shirt Damian brought scratching my sensitive skin. The staff bustle around us, their eyes fixed on tasks. No whispers, no raised eyebrows—just the soft rustle of feather dust brushes and the clink of metal as they go about their duties.
“Everything okay?” Soren’s voice breaks through my thoughts, gently. I nod, forcing a smile. Guilt tugs at my insides, heavy and suffocating. I think of my past—my secrets—and consider telling him about Rhett. Yet the moment slips away, tangled up in uncertainty and Damian yelling in the distance.
Suddenly, Max bursts through a side door by the grand staircase. He barrels toward us, his dark hair bouncing with each enthusiastic stride. He leaps into Soren’s arms, wrapping his small legs around his father’s waist. “Daddy! Can Bree play with me? Please?” His bright blue eyes shine with hope, innocence radiating from him, making my heart squeeze at the thought of being his stepmother.
Soren chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “Maybe after we shower, buddy.” He glances over at me and I nod, my cheeks heating.
“Okay,” Max whines.
My heart twists again, caught between the joy of this moment and the weight of my secret, knowing I could lose more than just Soren. I would also lose Max if he chose to believe Rhett over me.
“Sorry!” Damian rushes out from the same door, breathless and slightly disheveled. “He just took off from me.” His apologetic expression shifts to one of playful exasperation as he pries Max from his father kicking and squirming. Soren laughs in amusement. “You have to finish your math first,” Damian tells him as he tries to hold the squirming boy.
Max frowns, that youthful frustration palpable. “But I hate math!”
“To be a king, you must learn your numbers,” Damian says with a wink, coaxing a reluctant laugh from Max. He takes the boy’s hand, ushering him back down the hall. “You finish it and I will kick your ass in Mario Kart afterward,” Damian tells him.
“Yes!” Max cheers. “And I will kick your ass! Your gaming skills are just as horrible as your driving skills,” Max teases. His previous annoyance is forgotten as he races ahead, Damian trailing behind him while shaking his head.
With the chaos subsiding, Soren turns to me, his gaze holding mine steady. “Let’s get cleaned up.” He holds out his hand, and I take it, the warmth of his palm igniting something within me.
