Bound to the King's Guard (Moonbound Pack #1)

Chapter 1 The Hidden Heir

The Prince Behind the Mask

The Royal Council Chamber had been built to remind every visitor exactly where power lived.

Towering marble pillars carved with the crests of every allied pack stretched toward a vaulted ceiling painted with silver moons and ancient kings.

Colored light poured through stained-glass windows, washing the polished stone floor in shades of sapphire, crimson, and gold.

The banners of the Moonbound Kingdom hung proudly behind the throne, surrounded by those of neighboring territories whose loyalty had been earned through generations of diplomacy, trade, and carefully negotiated peace.

It was a room where every word carried weight.

Every smile concealed an intention.

Every silence could change the future of a kingdom.

Rowan Ashbourne sat at the long council table with perfect posture, dressed in deep navy royal robes embroidered with silver thread.

A polished moonstone brooch fastened his cloak across one shoulder, marking him as the Crown Prince and heir to the throne.

His expression remained calm, attentive, and unreadable, exactly as he had been taught since childhood.

Inside, however, he counted every steady breath.

He always did before important meetings.

The suppressants had begun wearing off earlier than expected that morning, leaving a faint warmth beneath his skin that no one else could notice.

He had swallowed another capsule before sunrise, followed by a bitter herbal tonic prepared by the Royal Physician.

Together they dulled his natural scent and suppressed every outward sign of what he truly was.

No one in this chamber believed their future king was an Omega.

They saw only the poised Beta prince who had spent years mastering diplomacy, military history, economics, and law. They admired his discipline and calm judgment. Ministers praised his intelligence. Visiting nobles spoke of his composure.

None of them knew the truth.

Only four people did.

His father.

His mother.

Royal Physician Mira.

Lord Chancellor Varric.

The secret had never left those walls.

If it ever did, centuries of carefully maintained tradition could collapse overnight.

King Aldric rose from his throne, silencing the quiet conversations spreading through the chamber.

"My friends," he began, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the hall, "thank you for traveling to our capital during this year's Moon Festival. May today's council strengthen the peace our kingdoms have shared for generations."

Respectful applause echoed through the room.

Representatives from six neighboring packs inclined their heads.

The Alpha ambassador from Frostpine adjusted his heavy fur cloak before taking his seat.

The elderly Beta merchant lord from Riverwatch carefully arranged several trade ledgers before him.

Across the table, the Silverfang delegation watched everything with practiced patience. Their leader, Duke Harren, possessed the confident smile of someone who believed the meeting would end exactly as he wished.

Rowan already knew why.

His father had warned him days earlier.

There would be discussions about strengthening alliances.

Discussions that centered around him.

Trade agreements filled the first hour of the meeting.

Border security followed.

Then came reports of growing unrest beyond the eastern mountains, where rogue packs had begun attacking merchant caravans.

Rowan listened carefully, occasionally offering thoughtful suggestions that earned approving nods from the council.

His voice never wavered.

His breathing remained measured.

No one noticed the subtle ache growing beneath his ribs.

He hoped they never would.

Lord Chancellor Varric finally stood from his seat.

Tall, silver-haired, and impeccably dressed in black ceremonial robes, the Chancellor had served the royal family for more than twenty-five years. His reputation for wisdom and political brilliance was unmatched throughout the kingdom.

When he spoke, people listened.

"The matters of trade and defense have been addressed," Varric said smoothly. "However, there remains one issue essential to preserving stability throughout the realm."

Several council members exchanged knowing glances.

Rowan felt his stomach tighten.

"The Crown Prince has reached an age where discussions regarding succession must become more than theoretical."

Silence settled over the chamber.

Varric smiled politely toward Rowan.

"Neighboring kingdoms seek reassurance that our line of succession remains secure. Alliances built through marriage have prevented countless wars throughout history."

Duke Harren inclined his head.

"The Silverfang Pack remains honored by the possibility of strengthening our friendship through family."

The implication needed no explanation.

King Aldric folded his hands together.

"This discussion was expected."

"It is also necessary," Varric added gently. "Prince Rowan's engagement to Alpha Prince Lucien of Silverfang would unite two powerful kingdoms while ensuring peace for generations."

Several ministers voiced immediate approval.

"A wise proposal."

"The strongest possible alliance."

"Our borders would become virtually untouchable."

Rowan kept his expression perfectly composed despite the hollow feeling spreading through his chest.

He had never met Prince Lucien.

He knew his name.

His age.

His military accomplishments.

The number of hunting tournaments he had won.

That was all.

Apparently, it was enough to determine the rest of Rowan's life.

King Aldric remained silent longer than usual.

Finally, he looked toward his son.

"Rowan."

The single word carried more weight than any speech.

Every pair of eyes turned toward him.

The prince straightened slightly.

"If such an alliance serves the kingdom," Rowan answered carefully, "then it deserves thoughtful consideration."

His response sounded calm.

Reasonable.

Royal.

Inside, each word felt like another stone added to the walls surrounding his heart.

Varric smiled with unmistakable satisfaction.

"As always, His Highness places the kingdom before himself."

The compliment drew approving murmurs throughout the chamber.

Rowan lowered his gaze briefly, hiding emotions he had spent years learning to bury.

Duty.

Sacrifice.

Service.

Those words had shaped every lesson of his childhood.

A future ruler belonged to the kingdom before he belonged to himself.

Personal happiness had never been mentioned.

The discussion continued, moving toward dates, ceremonial arrangements, and diplomatic celebrations that would accompany the engagement announcement during the upcoming Moon Festival.

Each detail tightened the invisible chains already wrapped around Rowan's future.

By the time the council finally adjourned, his carefully maintained composure felt painfully fragile.

The nobles departed in clusters, continuing conversations about trade routes and political strategy.

Varric lingered beside the throne.

"You handled yourself admirably today, Your Majesty," he told the King before turning toward Rowan. "Your Highness continues to demonstrate remarkable maturity."

Rowan offered a polite smile.

"Thank you, Chancellor."

Their eyes met only briefly.

Something about Varric's expression unsettled him.

The Chancellor always smiled with perfect courtesy.

His eyes never seemed to join the smile.

Before Rowan could dwell on the thought, Varric bowed respectfully and left the chamber.

One by one, the remaining ministers followed.

Soon only Rowan and his father remained.

King Aldric descended from the throne and rested a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I know this isn't easy."

Rowan looked toward the enormous stained-glass windows overlooking the capital.

Beyond them, workers decorated the city with silver banners and lanterns for the Moon Festival. Children laughed as merchants prepared colorful market stalls. Musicians rehearsed in the palace courtyard while artisans hung moon-shaped ornaments across every street.

The kingdom celebrated.

The Crown Prince felt strangely alone.

"I understand why it must be done," Rowan said quietly.

His father studied him for a long moment.

"You've never complained."

"Would it change anything if I did?"

The question lingered between them.

King Aldric sighed.

"I wish I could promise otherwise."

Rowan nodded once.

"So do I."

Neither man spoke again.

After a quiet embrace, the King returned to his private chambers, leaving Rowan alone inside the vast council hall.

He stood beside the tall windows, watching preparations for the festival continue below.

Every lantern represented hope.

Every smiling face trusted the royal family to protect them.

They deserved a ruler willing to sacrifice for peace.

He understood that.

He had accepted it years ago.

Acceptance, however, was not the same as happiness.

Almost without thinking, Rowan slipped a small silver case from inside his sleeve.

Another suppressant.

His fingers hesitated before opening it.

How many more years would he need these?

How much longer could they keep working?

The physician had quietly warned him during his last examination that long-term use weakened their effectiveness.

Sooner or later, nature would begin winning.

He swallowed the capsule with practiced ease before returning the empty case to his pocket.

No one could ever know.

Not the council.

Not the allied kingdoms.

Not the people who believed their future king was something he had never truly been.

Outside, bells rang joyfully across the capital as the first official celebrations of the Moon Festival began.

Rowan watched the silver banners dancing in the wind and wondered, not for the first time, whether there would ever come a day when he could live as himself instead of the carefully crafted prince everyone expected him to be.

For now, duty demanded another mask.

As the music drifted upward from the city below, Rowan turned away from the window and quietly left the council chamber, carrying the weight of an entire kingdom on shoulders that suddenly felt much heavier than before.

The King's Shadow