Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Rafe
Iam back in my allocated rooms within Atlas’s palatial suite.
Darrion, Fenix, and Lark have already left for patrols.
Alone in the accompanying bathing room, I stand before the full-length, gold-framed mirror and stare at the man who might as well be a stranger.
My face is broader, cheekbones sharper, my jaw stronger, and my neck the size of a fucking bull.
I must have grown a foot in height. And while I considered myself a strong man and a soldier, this is something else entirely.
I flex my arms slowly within the armor. It is gold-plated—every bit as fucking fancy as this room.
Apparently, it belonged to some long-forgotten alpha warrior and consort to a former Pride Queen five hundred years ago.
It was the only thing that they could find to fit me on short notice. Apparently.
I guess the bastards will see me coming on the battlefield, if the gold plating doesn’t blind them first. Otherwise, I’ll make a very nice target.
A dry chuckle escapes me.
At least I won’t grow. According to Master Pugstone, alphas who are not natural shifters, the way that Lark and the griffins are, don’t get the sizing boost.
So I’m just going to be a big bastard like this all the time, it would seem.
Gods.
I swipe my hand down my face and try to get a grip.
The memories of my transition are vague, and that’s probably for the best. Pain.
Writhing. A soft hand upon my brow. The sense that I was losing connection to life.
Through it all, Violet was calling to me, keeping me tethered to this earthly life.
And then, when I opened my eyes to the vision of her being mounted by Lark in his werebeast form.
Fuck.
I mean, a decent man ought to be horrified seeing that sweet lass getting railed by a werebeast. But damn if it wasn’t the most compelling sight of my life.
And what did I do afterward? I took my turn. I locked my knot into a slick, fisting channel.
The door behind me creaks gently. The woman who owns my life and heart peeks in. Her face splits into a beaming smile, and she darts in to throw her arms around me.
“Oof. Steady, lass. This armor is very hard, and you’ll hurt yourself.”
“I don’t care.”
I know she’s squeezing me around it, but I hardly feel a thing. I gently thread my fingers through her hair, careful of my great strength. “Have you shrunk?” I tease.
She snorts a giggle against my chest and then peers up at me. “Trust me, it is not I who has shrunk. It is you who has grown.”
Her eyes roam over the breadth of my chest and shoulders with impish interest, like she is thinking of removing the armor for a more thorough inspection.
No. Don’t think about that. This is definitely not a rutting time. Also, the poor lass has to be sore…
“Kiss me,” she says, gazing up into my eyes. “Kiss me before you go.”
The joy that was in her eyes a few moments ago is gone. The seriousness of the situation facing us is reflected back at me.
How sobering this moment is.
I clasp my oversized hands around her cheeks and kiss her softly, then firmer, before I force myself to lean away.
“Atlas is waiting,” she says. “He will bring you up to speed.”
I nod, snatch my helm from the side, adjust my sword belt, and then, with her hand in mine, I leave the room.
As we leave our quarters and take the corridors toward the upper part of the eyrie and the council room where Atlas is waiting, there’s a faint blush on her cheeks. When I send her a questioning look, she shrugs.
“I can speak to his griffin… I can speak to all the griffins, even the unbound ones.”
I was already aware she could mind-speak with her other mates—and now with me, as she did during… No, I’m not going down the rutting route again, lest I get distracted. I raise both brows before a smile tugs at my lips. “That’s a lot of griffins, lass.”
“They are terribly polite and don’t intrude. Although I sense their curiosity about me. They are so very formal. I feel deeply honored whenever they choose to converse with me.”
“Aye, I can only imagine,” I say.
As my boots ring against the flagstones, I’m struck once again by the many transitions since we arrived. In Violet. In Lark. And lastly, within myself.
I had resolved myself to my place as a beta consort, believing I might never be able to mind-speak with Violet the way she could with her other mates.
But I’m an alpha now.
It feels complete.
And although I didn’t need this—already had more than I could have hoped for—I’m going to fucking embrace it.
My fingers tighten lightly around hers. Her return smile is brief, and within it lies the worry for what is about to unfold.
As we leave the quieter sleeping quarters behind, new sounds fill the corridors: the thud of boots, shouted orders, the clatter of weapons, and the hurried murmur of voices.
The distant screech of griffins carries from an open corridor leading toward the upper eyrie entry.
Now and again, we pass a room where wounded men are being treated, their low groans leaking out.
A reminder of the war.
Two soldiers stand guard beside the council room’s double doors. They snap to attention and swing them wide as we approach.
The room is familiar, though it feels like a lifetime since I was last here.
The night of the cell incident—the night my change began.
A broad oval table dominates the chamber. The ceiling is high, supported by thick stone pillars, with tall windows along the walls letting in pale morning light. Outside, I catch sight of a wing of griffins launching into the sky.
Today’s gathering is smaller: Atlas, Commander Dirk, and one of his lieutenants. The commander’s temple bears a crust of dried blood and a heavy bruise from the fighting, no doubt.
I share a nod with the men, and catch Dirk’s young lieutenant studying me as though trying to reconcile what I am now with what I was before.
He quickly averts his gaze.
I cannot blame his curiosity. I don’t know what the fuck to make of myself either.
Atlas’s wings snap into being. His eyes slide from Violet to me, taking in the gold-plated armor and the sword at my side.
His lips curve faintly. “It is a little pretentious, but I dare say you will grow into it.”
Now the bastard is baiting me. I raise both fucking brows, even as the shared humor feels good.
“I’m glad to see you standing,” he adds and gestures toward the map. “Matters have escalated.”
I direct my gaze to the large chart spread across the table, held down by stones and markers showing the positions of hostile forces, noting how close they have come to the eyrie.
Reality slams back into me.
The fever dream of transformation is over.
Today we are at war.
I am no stranger to conflict. Though my role was that of a Queen’s Guard and mostly involved small skirmishes and patrol disputes, there were occasions when we rallied to support neighboring kingdoms.
I took such things in my stride. Yet this is on a different scale.
Atlas plants a finger on the map. “The line of attack has changed three times in as many days. They came first for the smaller settlements. When that failed to break us, they turned toward the roads, hoping to sever our communities from the eyrie and isolate them.”
His finger shifts toward a point near Acton Trussell. “Here. And here. They do not come to plunder and leave. They seek our lands. Our mountain. Our people. Perhaps even the pride itself, enslaved as they enslave the orcs—twisting them into their rocklings through dark magic.”
A tightness pulls through my chest.
“Had the resonant bonding not occurred,” Atlas continues, “unleashing the surge that strengthened us pride-wide, our position would be far more perilous. Particularly in light of what we have learned from captured soldiers.”
His eyes shift to Dirk.
Dirk nods grimly.
“The Hydornian High King has been influenced, for want of a better word. What was once a rumor is now a fact. He openly embraces Queen Elisa as his lover, raising the standing of both her and her alpha mate.”
Violet draws in a sharp breath. Color drains from her face. “Elijah is no alpha.”
The vehemence in her tone might surprise another. It does not surprise me. Elijah and his nefarious appetites were well known by all.
“His name has been mentioned to me before,” Atlas says, instantly attuned to Violet. “But I have never seen that look on your face.” His gaze slides briefly to me. “Or on Rafe’s. What is he to you?”
Violet lifts her chin and squares her shoulders.
Her lower lip trembles. Her voice does not.
“He is no alpha,” she repeats, as if pronouncing a curse.
“Just a weak man who happens to possess that trait. He is a monster. One who drove both my omega sisters from our home. He tried to rape Rebecca.” Her voice breaks now.
“Would have done the same to Rosalind, had she not fled first.”
I slide my fingers to the back of her neck, a quiet touch—not to undermine her, but because I know how hard this is.
“Worse,” Violet continues, “Elisa blamed my sisters. Said they tempted him—as if… Rebecca vanished for a year. We later learned Elisa had her thrown into a nearby portal. Alone. She was eventually found by a centaur patrol and taken to Dire’s End.”
Atlas does not so much as blink.
Violet rolls her eyes faintly, taking the harsh edge from the moment. “My younger sister is indomitable,” she says. “Rebecca ended up bound to the fiercest centaur in the horde. She now has a young centaur babe and another on the way… He is a reformed man—centaur. But that is another story.”
“Then there is Clarissa, my sweet beta sister. Her husband wasted no time extracting her from our home.”
Her voice softens. “I was the last one. My omega nature revealed late. I hid what I was because Elisa despised our kind. But I knew I had to leave.” She reaches for my hand.
“I left with Rafe and Lark because I could not stay another day. Because if Elijah had discovered what I was, he would have preyed upon me the same way he did my younger sisters. Elisa would have done so much worse.”
“I remember when we were girls,” she adds quietly. “Before this bitterness took hold of her. She blamed us for everything—for Elijah’s roving appetites, for her lack of children.”
She shakes her head slowly. “My sisters are safe. I’m grateful for that. But my presence here…” Her voice hardens. “She will make this personal.”
“She can fucking try,” Atlas growls, with an unusual flash of temper I fully support.
“My being here raises the stakes,” Violet states simply.
“Oh no,” Atlas replies firmly. “You will not carry this alone. She was always coming for us. Alliances with the dark fae are not forged overnight. This may have been years in the making. But you are right. Your history tells us much about our enemy.”
A faint glisten gathers in Violet’s eyes. Maybe an impossible-to-bury old hope that somewhere beneath all this hatred, the sister she once loved might still exist.
“She will not stop,” Violet says. “Not until she is made to.”
They are the words of a queen.
The strength was always there—even the day when I witnessed her racing Raven recklessly through the woods.
And just when I think my love for this woman cannot grow any greater, so easily, it does.
Atlas finally tears his gaze from Violet and nods to the commander.
“Tell her the rest.”
Dirk clears his throat. “There is something more you should know, my Queen… Your sister is with child. Far enough along to be showing. The High King’s bastard. He has already set aside his former Queen. She has fled the country and has taken refuge in the Imperium lands.”