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As Sasha stretched her legs, she said to me, “You did well, Cerise. Now, let’s go home.”

Home. The word resonated in my mind as Sasha sprinted through the forest with Tavik at her side. I wasn’t sure if my suite in the castle felt like home.

It was easy to fall in love with the Isle, though. From the majestic forests to the mystical moon to the thrilling cliffside and sandy shores, it all felt like an enchanting dream I never wanted to wake from.

But… did it feel like home? Of that, I wasn’t sure.

From between the trees, the early glow of moonlight was starting to peer over the horizon, marking the next Rising. It was almost Forenoon, which meant we only had hours before Alaric’s trial.

“He will be fine,” said Sasha, sensing my worry.

I wished I believed her.

When we reached the edge of the forest, we shifted back into our human forms. Alaric, dressed in black shorts once more, wordlessly handed me the robe again. I put it on and clutched Hans’s book to my chest as Alaric led the way back to the castle doors. The courtyard was still quiet, but distant footsteps and voices nearby indicated the Isle was starting to wake up. I quickened my pace to meet Alaric’s stride, eager to avoid being spotted. The fewer questions we had to answer, the better.

We climbed the stairs to the castle entrance doors, then hurried down the hall. Alaric weaved his fingers through mine, urging me forward. My feet moved obediently, but my body quivered with fear and unease.

Would our evidence be enough?

And even if it was, even if we could somehow condemn Gorem for his crimes, Alaric might still be arrested. After everything we’d been through, I could still end up losing him.

He led me back to his chambers, and I didn’t protest. It would feel wrong to return to the guest suite alone. I needed to be with him right now.

When we stepped into his rooms, a servant was already inside, shuffling around and tidying up the mess we’d left in the bedchamber. My skin heated as I recalled how we’d completely destroyed the bed.

At our approach, he turned to face us. He was a tall, wiry man with dark skin and wispy white hair. He gestured wildly at the broken bed. “Your Majesty,” he said in exasperation. “Honestly…” His gaze shifted to me, and his eyes widened. “Oh. Oh.” His bashful gaze flicked from the bed to me again, comprehension lighting his features.

My cheeks burned, and I dropped my gaze, but Alaric’s grip on my hand tightened. “Stover, this is Cerise,” he said. “She’s my… well, my everything.” The words were so tender that I almost melted on the spot. My gaze lifted to his, heat coiling in my belly. He was watching me with a look of awe and wonder, as if he couldn’t believe I was standing here next to him.

“I see,” Stover said, his tone of surprise breaking through the haze of Alaric’s piercing look. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cerise.”

“You as well,” I said with a nervous smile. “I—I’m a Wolven Mage. And Alaric and I are Soulbound.”

Stover’s jaw slackened, and his face paled. He stared at Alaric in disbelief. “Soulbound?”

Alaric nodded. “Yes, it’s true.”

“By the gods.” Stover ran a hand down his face, his wide eyes growing distant. “I never thought I’d see the day when Soulbound magic returned.” He huffed an amazed laugh. “This… this is incredible, Your Majesty. I wish—well, I only wish this were happening under better circumstances.” He straightened, his expression sobering. “Have you put together the case for your trial today?”

Alaric sighed. “Almost. Cerise and I were gathering more evidence.”

“Good. Is there anything I can do?”

“Please locate Reid and have him brought to my chambers. Even if he hasn’t found anything, I’ll need him to testify on my behalf.”

Stover nodded once before striding for the door. He faltered and turned to us with a pained grimace. “I’ll have the staff, um, bring you a new bed, Your Majesty.” His face flushed as he turned and left the room.

I covered my face with my hands as a nervous laugh burst from me. Alaric met my eye with a smirk, his eyes gleaming.

“Sorry,” I muttered sheepishly. “We kind of destroyed your room.”

“I’m not sorry in the slightest,” he said, his voice low and husky. My toes curled as he leaned in, his mouth meeting mine. I rose on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hands gripped my waist as his tongue slid between my lips. I groaned into his mouth, a shiver of pleasure rippling through me. His hands climbed up my back, fingers threading through my hair. He tilted my head to deepen the kiss, lips parting wider, tongue colliding with mine.

I could have kissed him for hours—and part of me wanted to—but I knew we were short on time. Regretfully, I pulled away from him, both of us gasping for breath. He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling.

“You torment me, witchling,” he whispered. “I wish I had an eternity to explore your body and worship you properly.”

Heat pooled in my core, and for one wild moment, I considered shoving him onto the broken bed and having my way with him, trial be damned.