Chapter Fifty-Three
Calista
Neris opened the chamber door, and her hand flew to her chest with a gasp. The king stood braced in the doorway like he owned the air.
Even I took a half step back at the sight of the looming giant.
Savage wasn’t surrounded by his Court or flanked by his guards as I assumed I’d see him next in the temple. It was just him, iron mask on, cloak heavy on his shoulders, and something in his posture that was too sharp to be calm.
My heart did a foolish, painful thing in my chest. “You’re here,” I blurted. My mouth seemed to always be faster than my senses around him.
“Calista. I—” He blinked, the remainder of the sentence torn from his mouth when his heated gaze raked over me.
It was a slow, steady caress, more powerful than any male’s touch.
It wasn’t the look of a king assessing a prize.
It was the look of a male confirming I was real, alive, and still his to lose.
Heat gathered low in my belly, swift and traitorous.
For a heartbeat I forgot there was a ceremony, a Conclave, and a world waiting to judge us.
All of the females surrounding me went still at the sight of him, even the servants who’d been tidying up the chamber froze. Whether it was from fear of the great beast in the doorway or the blatant affront to tradition I wasn’t sure.
My cheeks went hot behind the veil.
“It is sacrilege to see the bride before the ceremony,” Neris shrieked, positioning herself in front of the entrance as if she could somehow block him from getting to me. The idea was laughable. “Tradition states—”
“Tradition can go frost itself,” he growled, cutting her off before she could utter the end of the proclamation. His head angled, and even behind the iron I felt that tumultuous gaze on me.
Neris drew herself up, brows lifting in warning. “Your Majesty, the rite—”
“I need to see her now.”
It wasn’t the king’s typical cool authority. It was something raw that had claw marks under it like the Wolvryn inside him had stopped pretending he could wait.
I swallowed, throat suddenly dry. There was only one reason why he would be here, stomping all over his precious laws and traditions. It was Trystan, it had to be. Fear’s claws pierced my lungs, tearing into my faltering organs.
Suri’s hand tightened around mine in a silent question. Eira looked delighted and horrified in equal measure. I had a feeling she’d never seen her brother so frazzled and enjoyed every second of it.
Neris stepped forward, attempting to block him again with that priestess certainty. “Your Highness—”
“I will give you one last chance to kindly step out of my way, Neris, or I will remove you myself.” His lethal tone allowed no further argument.
“Five minutes,” she snapped, as if she could bargain with a storm. “And the room stays—”
“No.” The single syllable hit the stone like a thrown knife.
Neris held his stare for a beat too long, then exhaled sharply. “Everyone out,” she ordered.
Tamsin and Brynja moved first, ushering the servants toward the corridor. Eira lingered for a moment, eyeing her elder brother as if she didn’t quite recognize him before finally taking Suri’s hand and guiding her out.
My sister hesitated at the door, eyes wide with worry and hope all tangled together. “I’ll be right outside,” she whispered before kissing my cheek. “You’re safe.”
“I know.” If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that Ever—Savage knew how to keep me safe. I may not have trusted the king exactly, but I also didn’t fear him. Trystan on the other hand…
The door shut behind them, and the click of the latch sounded loud in the sudden quiet. It was only the two of us. The room suddenly felt too small for the king and everything he was hiding.
I stood by the bed in my new gown, the moon-thread catching the firelight. My ankle was steady beneath me, finally healed clean, thank the goddess. Still, a tremor surged up my spine. Only this wasn’t a weakness of bone, it was a weakness of heart.
Because gods, just one look at him and I could forget everything.
His head tipped, studying me like he could see the bruises I’d carried that weren’t on skin. “You’re dressed.”
“For my wedding,” I countered. I was trying for sharp, but it came out embarrassingly thin.
He stepped in and erased the last inch of distance the room had offered between us. He wasn’t quite touching me, but he was certainly closer than tradition allowed.
My pulse leapt like a hare cornered in the snow. Goddess, how did his mere proximity do that to me? I forced myself to speak first because if I didn’t, I would drown in everything I felt when he looked at me like that.
“Is this about Trystan?” I hated how my voice trembled at the question. The Thornwild Alpha could ruin everything.
“It’s not about the Hunt.” His tone was rougher than usual, stripped of court polish. “Not right now.”
My breath caught. “Then why are you here?” Why would he break yet another rule for me?
His shoulders rose and fell once, as if he’d run up a mountain to reach me. “I owe you my name.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. Then they hit hard.
I swayed, knees threatening to betray me in a way my ankle no longer could. Relief punched so hard through my chest that it felt like pain. This wasn’t about Trystan or my Moon Crown. “You—” My voice broke. I cleared my throat, furious at myself. “You owe me your name.”
He nodded once.
Selraya.
I pressed a hand to my stomach because everything inside me was tumbling. The fear that I was about to lose it all, that I was about to be dragged back into the hall and told my crown was invalid, my Edicts meaningless, my people doomed anyway.
It all loosened, just a fraction.
Then my mind caught up, snapping back to the knife-edge reality. “But your meeting with Trystan,” I blurted.
His jaw flexed beneath the mask. I knew that motion too well. Everest had done it when he was holding something back.
“He didn’t come,” Savage replied.
My brows knit. “He… didn’t come?”
“No.”
A chill crawled up my spine that had nothing to do with Frostcrag Fortress’s frigid temperatures. That made no sense. Trystan had strutted through the hall like a male who held us both by a leash. Why vanish now?
“What game is he playing?” I whispered.
Savage’s gaze stayed pinned on me, but I could feel his mind elsewhere, tracking a thousand threats at once. Conclave politics. Raider smoke. An Alpha with a grudge.
“Either he’s planning to strike when we don’t expect it,” he murmured on an exhale, “or he wants us to chase him.” For an instant, he seemed tired, exhausted of it all.
“So he’s stalling, prolonging the torture.”
His silence was answer enough. The room went still again, thick with the unspoken. We both just stood there staring at each other, a thousand unsaid words between us.
My throat tightened, but I forced in a breath. “Your name...”
His attention snapped fully back to me.
I couldn’t stop the quip that slipped out because it was either that or cry. “So I’ve finally earned it?”
He cocked his head. “You’re mocking me.”
“I’m surviving you,” I shot back. “There’s a difference.” I tossed him a smirk. “You told me you couldn’t give it away. That names meant something in Frostcrag.”
“They do.” His words came out quieter now.
He moved closer. One step. Then another. My legs hit the bedframe and a faint gasp escaped. The space between us thinned until it felt like we shared the same breath.
“You didn’t earn it by making it to my throne.” He paused for a long moment, eyes intent on mine. “You earned it by refusing to bend when the realm wanted to break you. By choosing to be more than a prize.”
My chest tightened, and I hated that his words did this to me. That praise from him felt like sunlight after too much darkness.
He reached up, fingers brushing the edge of my veil, not lifting it, just touching the silver lace like he needed proof I was real.
My breath hitched. “You will be an extraordinary queen,” he whispered, firm hand landing on my shoulder and squeezing.
“Because not only did you survive the Hunt, but you saw what was wrong in Lunaris and you demanded a change.”
My throat burned.
“And because you did that,” he continued, voice roughening, “I need you to know that I will not let Trystan or anyone else turn your crown into a joke.” His hand slid down my arm to my waist, resting there with frightening gentleness.
The contact was a brand. I felt it everywhere.
“Once we are bound,” he murmured, something possessive and reverent tangled together in the words, “you will have Frostcrag’s protection.”
My pulse thundered.
“And you will forever have mine. My body. My soul. And all that I am.”
The last three parts dropped like a vow.
Not Court law. Not duty. Him.
My breath caught again, and my veil fluttered like twinkling stars. “You say it as if you’re offering me a gift.”
His thumb moved, a slow stroke at my hip that made my skin turn traitor beneath silk. “I’m offering you a promise.” He leaned closer, until the iron mask was only inches from my face, and my mind went blank except for him.
“Five minutes,” I whispered, remembering Neris’s bargain like it mattered.
His mouth curved slightly, unseen but felt in the shift of his voice. “Then let’s not waste them.”
My hands rose without permission, hovering at his chest, feeling the warmth through layers of cloth and leather and everything he kept between us. “Your name,” I breathed. I needed something to hold onto that wasn’t his mouth.
His gaze locked on mine. And then, like it cost him something to give it, he lowered his head to my ear. “Thorne,” he whispered. The sound of it in his rough voice did something violent to me.
It wasn’t just a name. It was an unveiling.
“Everest,” he murmured, warm breath spilling goose bumps across my skin.
My heart stuttered. Everest… It hadn’t all been a lie.
Memory flashed in fragments. A hut. Teeth at my skin. His arms around me. The wolf helm. The way he’d looked at me like a cliff looks at a storm.
“Ashenfell.” The full name slid into the air like a spell.
Thorne Everest Ashenfell.
My knees went weak when I should have been furious. I was furious. Here alone with him before we proclaimed our vows, I should have demanded every answer, demanded every truth.
Instead, something wild and reckless surged up in me like the moon itself had reached into my ribs. Because hearing his name made him real in a new way. Understanding that Everest wasn’t only a fictional character but a piece of him dampened the anger.
He wasn’t just a king behind iron or a dark shadow in a helm.
Thorne Everest Ashenfell was a living, breathing male.
Mine to choose. Mine to deny. Mine to ruin.
I swallowed, throat tight. “That’s… a lot of name.”
His breath brushed my cheek. “It’s yours now.”
It shouldn’t have mattered, and yet it mattered too much. My hands slid up, fingers finding the edges of his cloak, pulling him closer because I needed this like air. Like heat. Like certainty.
His body went rigid for half a heartbeat before he leaned in, our bodies flush against each other.
This wasn’t the king making a political claim. This was the male who had held me through storms and blood and the weakest parts of myself.
I tipped my head forward, and our mouths met. Barely.
A brush. A breath. The faintest taste of him through a veil, the narrow slit of iron and the heat of his exhale, as if even this kiss had to be stolen in fragments.
I rose on my tiptoes, trying to close the last cruel distance. His hand tightened at my waist, and heat surged from his fingertips to the very marrow of my bones. The hard lines of his body gave way to the soft curves of my own, drawing us closer still. And goddess, the way we just fit.
The door slammed open so hard it rattled the hinges.
“Absolutely not,” Neris cried out.
I jerked back like I’d been burned.
Savage straightened, shoulders squaring with terrifying speed, as if he could shove all softness back into the cage the moment the high priestess walked in.
She stood in the doorway, eyes blazing. Behind her, I caught a flash of two more silver-robed priestesses and the pale blur of attendants. They all pretended they weren’t staring.
“This is wholly improper,” Neris hissed. She marched in like she might drag me away by my veil. “This is not how blessed rites are conducted. This is not how queens are made.”
Savage’s voice turned glacial. “I decide how my queen is made.”
Neris’s eyes widened, just for a heartbeat, then her priestess spine snapped back into place. “You will decide nothing if the Conclave senses scandal on the eve of the binding.” Turning away from the king, her gaze speared me. “Come, Calista.”
My lungs felt too tight. My mouth still tingled with what hadn’t even been a real kiss and yet felt like a searing brand. I turned my head toward Savage, toward Thorne, toward Everest, desperate and angry and aching all at once.
His eyes held mine through the iron, and a flicker of mischief I’d never seen from the king before lit the brilliant blue. “Tonight, after the ceremony, we feast, my queen.”
It was a taunt and a vow all at the same time. That damnable heat surged up my neck and blossomed across my cheeks. I opened my mouth, then closed it, a clever retort escaping me. Sel save me, that mouth.
Neris seized my elbow, firmly, and guided me toward the door. “It’s time.” Those two words had the power to dampen the burgeoning heat and cage a powerful Wolvryn.
As I crossed the threshold, I looked back one last time.
Savage—no, Thorne, though I wasn’t certain I would ever get used to that—was still standing where I’d left him, posture perfect and mask in place, all the mighty Wolvryn King again.
“It was you, wasn’t it, last year in Hollowcrest?” I called out over my shoulder. Of all the unspoken questions between us, it seemed the safest.
His head dipped, sharply, but he didn’t utter another word. His hand remained at his chest as he watched me, right where I’d touched him a second ago.