Chapter 13 #2
“Of course forcing her,” Zane says sharply, his voice rising with righteous indignation.
“She is my fated mate, Commander. She would never willingly be with another man.” His expression shifts to something almost sympathetic.
“Even if she had…feelings for you before we met, the fated mate bond would never allow those feelings to continue. It’s impossible.
Which means”—he spreads his hands as if the conclusion is obvious—“she must be being coerced.”
The logic is airtight if you don’t know the truth. If you believe his lies about being Selene’s fated mate, then everything else follows. Of course she wouldn’t choose me. Of course she’d need to be forced.
My hands shake with the effort of not striding over there and strangling him.
Lucian and I exchange a look—brief, loaded with unspoken communication.
We both know what’s happening here. Zane is making his move, forcing our hand.
Either we reveal the truth about the mating bond, which would destroy any chance of figuring out his plan, or we let him paint me as a villain who is forcing himself on an unwilling woman.
Before either of us can respond, movement catches my eye.
A man steps forward from the Council seats—late fifties, with slicked-back hair that’s more grease than style and a smile that nauseates me.
His robes seem expensive but are worn in a way that suggests he cares more about appearances than actual quality.
Rings glitter on every finger, gaudy and excessive.
High Inquisitor Draven. Leader of the purist faction within the Umbra Council. The man who has been a thorn in Lucian’s side since the moment he took the throne.
“Your Majesty,” Draven says, his voice oily and smooth. “This is indeed a troubling matter.”
Fuck.
My wolf snarls, recognizing the threat immediately. Draven stepping forward means this isn’t just about Zane anymore. This is about to become a Council issue. A political nightmare.
“The integrity of the fated mate bond is sacred,” Draven continues, addressing the room rather than Lucian directly.
“If there are allegations that a member of the royal guard—a commander, no less—is interfering with such a bond, forcing his attentions on a woman who belongs to another…” He shakes his head, the picture of concerned righteousness. “This cannot be ignored.”
The chamber erupts in murmurs. Council members lean toward each other, whispering. I catch fragments of conversation: “coercing her,” “sacred connection,” “abuse of power.”
My reputation is being shredded in real time, and there’s nothing I can do about it without revealing the truth.
Lucian stands, silencing the room instantly. “Commander Rowan has served this kingdom with distinction for years. I will not have his character assassinated based on rumors and speculation.”
“Of course not, Your Majesty.” Draven’s smile never wavers. “Which is why I propose we investigate the matter properly. Bring Healer Selene before the Council. Let her speak for herself about these…arrangements.”
No. No fucking way.
The thought of Selene being dragged before the Council, forced to explain our relationship while Zane sits there watching with those calculating eyes makes my wolf howl with protective fury.
“That won’t be necessary—” I start, but Draven cuts me off.
“Surely the Commander has nothing to hide?” His gaze locks onto mine, sharp and knowing despite the pleasant tone.
“If Healer Selene can explain why she’s been avoiding Lord Radrick, her own fated mate, that would settle the matter immediately.
Unless there’s a reason the Commander doesn’t want her to speak? ”
It’s a trap. A beautiful, perfectly constructed trap.
If we refuse to bring Selene forward, it looks like we’re hiding something—like I have been forcing her, and we know she’d expose the truth.
But if we do bring her forward, we either have to reveal the mating bond—which creates its own nightmare—or have Selene explain why she’s avoiding her supposed fated mate while spending nights in my bed.
Revealing the bond she and I share is not a solution anymore.
Zane just made it public knowledge that he and Selene are fated mates.
He announced it to the entire Council, to every noble and advisor in this chamber.
If Selene suddenly claims I’m her fated mate instead, Zane can accuse me of using magic to manipulate the bond.
Of doing exactly what he tried to do to her.
The irony would be laughable if it weren’t so fucking dangerous.
I take a deep breath. Through our bond, I feel Selene’s sudden surge of anxiety—she must sense my distress from wherever she is in the palace. The feeling makes my chest tighten with the need to go to her, to protect her from all this.
“The Council does have the authority to summon witnesses in matters of potential misconduct,” another Council member pipes up—an older woman I vaguely recognize as one of Draven’s supporters.
“Particularly when it involves someone with close ties to the Crown,” adds another.
They’re circling like sharks who have scented blood.
Lucian’s jaw clenches almost imperceptibly. I know that look—he’s calculating, weighing options, trying to find a way out of this that doesn’t sacrifice everything we’ve been working toward.
But I also know there isn’t one.
“Your Majesty,” Zane says quietly, his voice heavy with false reluctance.
“I don’t wish to cause trouble. But I love Selene.
She’s my fated mate, and yet, she’s been avoiding me for weeks.
Refusing to see me. Making excuses.” He swallows hard, playing the part of the heartbroken lover to perfection.
“I just want to understand why. What have I done to deserve this? Is she being pressured to stay away from me? Threatened?”
The bastard.
He has positioned himself as the concerned mate, desperate to understand why his beloved is avoiding him.
Meanwhile, he is painting me as the bad guy—the powerful commander using his position to keep them apart.
And now, he’s even giving Lucian an out: just bring Selene forward, let her explain herself, and this can all be resolved.
Except, he can’t do that. Because the moment Selene opens her mouth, everything we’ve been trying to accomplish falls apart.
My wolf paces frantically, torn between the need to protect our mate and the knowledge that any path forward leads to disaster.
“High Inquisitor Draven,” Lucian says, his voice rigorously controlled. “You wish to summon Healer Selene to speak before the Council?”
“I believe it would be in everyone’s best interest, Your Majesty.” Draven’s smile widens. “Let her explain in her own words why she has been avoiding her fated mate. Surely that’s reasonable? Unless Lord Zane’s concerns about outside interference are justified.”
The way he says it—like he’s being fair and sensible. This is about power. About backing Lucian into a corner and watching him squirm.
And it’s working.
Through our bond, Selene’s anxiety spikes higher. She knows something’s wrong. Probably feels my fury and fear bleeding through our connection.
Stay where you are, I think desperately, hoping somehow she can sense my instruction. Don’t come here. Don’t—
“Very well,” Lucian says, and my heart drops into my stomach. “Summon Healer Selene Thorne to appear before the Council.”
No!
The word screams through my mind, but objecting now would only make things worse.
Zane’s expression remains carefully neutral, but satisfaction gleams in his dark eyes for just a moment before he smooths it away.
He has us exactly where he wants us, with Selene about to be standing before the Council, having to choose between maintaining his lie or revealing a truth no one will believe.
If she claims I’m her fated mate, he’ll accuse me of magical manipulation. If she admits she has been avoiding him, she’ll have to explain why—and any answer involving me paints me as the monster who thwarted destiny.
A messenger hurries out of the chamber to retrieve her.
My mate. My Selene. About to be dragged into the center of this political shitstorm, and I’m powerless to protect her from it.
The next twenty minutes are a silent hell.
Then, the chamber doors open, and she steps through.
She’s in her healer’s robes, the simple white uniform that marks her profession.
I’d left her sleeping in my bed this morning; she was too exhausted from another nightmare-interrupted night for me to wake her when I had to leave for this Council meeting.
She must have dressed in a rush when the messenger came to fetch her.
Her auburn hair is pulled back in a practical braid, and her face is composed. Controlled. Even as her eyes sweep the assembled nobles and land on Zane.
No reaction. Not a flicker of fear or recognition. Just cold assessment before her gaze moves on, finding mine.
The connection hits like lightning. Through our bond, I feel her steel herself, drawing on reserves of strength I didn’t know she possessed.
“Healer Selene Thorne,” Lucian says, his voice carrying throughout the chamber. “Thank you for joining us.”
She curtsies properly. “Your Majesty.”
Lucian leans forward slightly, his expression regal. “Lord Radrick has made certain claims before this Council. Claims regarding a fated mate bond between the two of you.” He pauses. “Do you have a fated mate bond with Lord Zane Radrick?”
Silence.
Selene stands perfectly still, her face betraying nothing. The chamber holds its breath. I watch her throat work as she swallows, but she doesn’t speak.
I stare at her. Say something, little wolf.
“Additionally,” Lucian continues, and I hear the faint edge of exasperation creeping into his tone, like a man tired of dealing with petty drama, “Lord Radrick claims you’ve been avoiding his invitations. Refusing to see him. Can you explain why?”