Chapter 2
Chapter Two
King Alaric
This is humiliating.
A Wolf King should not have to travel long distances on foot.
Traveling by paw would take less than an hour. I would already be on my way back to the castle by now, but my contemptuous, insolent wolf refuses to wake.
So, I have to walk to the oracle. One plodding footstep at a time.
Even the wretched humans could travel faster on their slave horses.
This is pathetic.
I reach in again, trying to awaken my beast, but the furry fucker is practically comatose. I search for him internally the way I always have—by instinct, by memory, by the familiar pull that has guided me since I was a boy.
There is nothing.
No stir of power. No answering presence. No low awareness pacing beneath my skin.
It’s just me. And coiling dread.
I breathe in the cool air and look up at the trees as I walk.
As frustrating as it is, there’s a calmness to traveling at this snail-like speed.
I can watch the birds in the trees and hear the frogs croaking.
I touch leaves, gather acorns, and marvel at the way the sun reflects on the water of the creek.
Normally, a wolf would sprint past all this beauty in a blur, missing it all. It’s a different view of my kingdom, and as frustrated as I am, I’m taking it all in.
At this speed, I can hear my thoughts too.
I think about what Rurik suggested last night and wonder if I could ever do that. Unnatural breeding. Just the thought of it makes me nauseous.
I wonder what my father would do in my place, and I wonder if I can be as ruthless as he was.
I used to think he was a stern monster who enjoyed making all those around him miserable.
Now, after experiencing the burden of the crown, I’m beginning to realize he was just doing what was required to keep his kingdom intact.
It’s easy to criticize the old man, but at least he kept his kingdom together. That’s not something I’m sure I’ll be able to accomplish.
The forest ends and I emerge on the outskirts of a village where a group of boys are playing Stone Ring. I smile as I remember playing that in my youth. You toss a pebble at a small circle from a distance and the closest stone wins.
Some are in their wolf forms—small, clumsy things with oversized paws and too much enthusiasm—while others are in their shifter forms, pushing and elbowing to throw the next stone.
It’s the wolves who notice me first. Their heads whip around and they instantly drop to the ground, prostrating themselves.
The boys just drop their jaws and openly stare in shock as I approach.
I’m not wearing my crown, but every wolf can recognize the scent of their king and the one true alpha of the pack.
One lowers his head, and the others quickly follow.
“That’s enough of that,” I say, smiling at them. “Raise your heads, boys.”
They just stare in awe as I approach. It’s not often that a king walks into a village. They’ll tell their pups about this day.
“Stone Ring,” I say as I stand in front of them with my hands on my hips. They all crane their heads to look up at me. I tower over them. “Who’s the champion?”
They all look at one kid with a shaved head and a dirty, torn white shirt. “I am, your Alpha. Sorry. My Alpha.”
I can’t help but smile. They’re adorable.
“Will you take me on?” I ask, grabbing a smooth stone from the pile and tossing it in my hand. “I haven’t played in a long time, so go easy on me.”
“Yes, your Alpha. Um, my Alpha.”
“You first.”
He tosses it and, damn, he’s close.
I take a deep breath, focusing on the ring, and I toss the stone. It bounces and lands right behind his.
“You beat me,” I say, smiling at him.
His face pales and then turns green. “I’m sorry, your Alpha. It was an accident. Please don’t axe-cute me.”
“And why would I do that?” I ask in a booming voice. “When I can have a talented young wolf like you in my royal guard one day?”
His face cycles through a whole bunch of emotions and then he breaks out into a proud smile.
I slip my hand into my bag and search for something to give him. All I find is a pocket knife, but it’s a beautiful one, carved from stone with a sharp blade and an emerald set in the handle.
All of the boys stare at it in wonder and jealousy as I hand it to him.
One of the wolves crouches forward and sniffs my boot.
I play some more, winning some games and losing others. I hand out gifts to all of them. Golden coins, a royal handkerchief, a carved pen, and some food that I brought for the oracle.
“You wolves will make the Moonborne Kingdom proud one day,” I say to their beaming faces. “I can’t wait to be there to see it.”
They follow me as I continue on, asking me a million questions and making me laugh with their silly jokes.
“Do you sleep with the crown on?” one asks.
Another one jumps in before I can answer. “Is your bed made of gold?”
I answer each question and they hang on my every word, marveling at my answers.
Eventually, I head into the dark forest and they drop off, unable or too afraid to follow me further.
I smile as I think about each one of their faces. This is what must be protected. This is why I must endure.
An alpha stands so the pack does not fall.
If I weaken, they all bleed.
I whisper the words that have kept me strong all throughout my rule.
“I am alpha. I endure.”
With every step deeper into the trees, the quiet dread returns, settling low in my stomach.
This forest is old and ancient out here. The thick roots snake along the mossy ground and the tall, dense canopy blocks out the sun, casting the forest into darkness.
This is her domain.
Has been since before the first stone of Moonborne Castle was laid in the dirt.
The farther I walk, the more I feel it—an awareness prickling at the back of my neck, the sense of being watched without any clear direction from which the gaze comes.
No one knows where the oracle came from or how long she’s been here. No one even knows what she is, although there are an ample amount of theories.
Some say she is a cursed queen, stripped of crown and pack. Given Immortal Sight as a punishment by the Gods.
Others think she is the last ancient being of an extinct species, one that roamed the land before wolves and humans existed.
Still others say she is the outcast daughter of the moon goddess herself, cursed to see all futures, while having none for herself.
Whatever she is, she has not changed at all since I was a pup.
Unease crawls along my goose-bumped skin when her cave comes into view. It’s half-hidden behind a curtain of hanging roots and moss, the rock face light and smooth as if polished by centuries of rain and passing hands.
I stop a few paces away, the forest unnaturally still around me, and draw a slow tentative breath. There are no birds singing here. No frogs croaking. Even the breeze is silent.
I shiver from the eery feeling creeping along my skin. The air smells different here. Like a mystical magic. Like a tingling copper scent in the back of my nose.
“Oracle,” I call out. I don’t use my deep, booming authoritative king’s voice here. The Oracle cannot be intimidated by mortal creatures. It’s best to use deference. “I have come for your guidance.”
“King Alaric of the Moonborne Wolves,” she says, her voice ringing from the forest itself, coming from every direction at once. “You may enter.”
I swallow hard as I step forward, push back the roots and moss, and step inside her cave.
The temperature drops immediately, the damp chill seeping through leather and cloth, curling into my bones. Water drips somewhere deeper inside, each sound measured and deliberate, as if the cave itself is counting to eternity.
And in this modest cave, with hastily constructed wooden furniture—a single chair, a bed with a blanket of moss, and a fire with glowing embers in the corner—stands the Oracle, watching me with bright, calculating eyes.
She’s stunning. Flawless beauty. Unnatural beauty.
Although we’re in a cold, dark cave, she’s lit as if the sun itself were feasting on her.
Her eyes shine golden as if lit up by magic.
Silky red hair falls in waves around her shoulders.
Her skin and sparkling white dress are untouched by dirt, or age, or hardship.
Not a single wrinkle mars her face. Not a single shadow dims her eyes.
She looks exactly as she did when I was a boy.
Exactly alike.
I remember coming here as a young prince. My mother, with her trembling hand on my shoulder, her expression grave and fearful as she knelt before this ethereal creature who bowed to no one.
My mother whom I’ve missed so much.
The years have taken much from me. My parents. My youth. My hope.
They have taken nothing from the Oracle.
Or, that may just be appearances. Maybe the years have taken everything from her.
“I brought gifts,” I say in a shaky voice as I lay out bottles of fine wine, dried meats and fruits, candles, and swaths of the best cloth and furs in the kingdom.
I don’t know if she’ll use any of this. I don’t even know if she eats or drinks.
She doesn’t even glance at them. She never takes her cold, calculating eyes off me.
“You come alone,” she says in her soft, lyrical voice that sends shivers down my spine.
“I don’t need guards in my own kingdom.”
She stares at me, unblinking. “That’s not what I meant.”
I swallow hard, feeling the absence of my wolf more than ever.
“You are unwell,” she says, those bright golden eyes seeing into my soul. “Your wolf is frail and ailing.”
“Why?” I ask, hot tears filling my eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”
For the first time, the frustration leaves me and all I’m left with is worry. He’s a part of me. And I miss him.
She doesn’t answer. She just stares, collecting information in ways I’ll never understand.
“Your kingdom is in shambles,” she says, her hair billowing although there’s no breeze in the cold, dank cave. “Your bloodline is in peril.”
I drop to my knees as tears rush down my cheeks. “How do I fix it?” I beg. “How do I save my wolf and my people?”
She steps closer, soundless feet on bare stone, and studies me as if I am something cracked open, something whose fractures are finally visible.
“You have felt your wolf fading for some time,” she says.
“Yes.”
“And you have told no one.”
“No.”
I drop my head as she breaks me open. As she peers inside my wounded core.
“And you come here to seek my advice.”
“Yes. And your ancient wisdom.”
“But you have received my ancient wisdom,” she says. “And you’ve ignored it.”
I look up at her through watery eyes. “The prophecy…”
Her glowing body rises off the ground and her eyes turn white with pure light. “Only the unbound will bind the kingdom whole.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel the words reverberating through every cell in my body.
“But who is the unbound?” I ask in desperation as she lowers back down to the stone floor and her eyes return to their normal eery golden glow.
“Why must you speak in riddles, Oracle? My whole kingdom is in jeopardy.”
“I have given you everything required to save it.”
“The unbound,” I ask, my voice racing to get my questions in before she tires of me and vanishes. “Is it my mate you speak of?”
“I pity you and your species. If this is the best of you, then I do not have much hope for the men of wolves.”
“My mate,” I say, ignoring her jab. “Is she human? Please.”
“She is not of your kind, King Alaric of the Moonborne Wolves. Find her, and your kingdom will be whole.”
In a flash, she’s gone.
I hear the drip-drip-drip of the water landing on stone. The copper scent in the air subsides.
I stagger up to my feet, wipe the water from my eyes, and head out with my heart pounding and my thoughts spiraling.
A human mate.
The very idea feels like treason. Wolves and humans have lived in uneasy peace for generations, old wars buried but not forgotten.
To cross that line could shatter everything.
Or, it could save it all.
Only the unbound will bind the kingdom whole.
I have no choice.
I run through the forest, traveling as fast as these two slow legs will take me.
My thoughts race faster than my body.
A human mate.
My kingdom, my shifters, my wolf… they all depend on a human.
I shudder at the thought.
By the time Moonborne Castle comes into view, the decision has already been made.
I hate myself for it.
But I will not let my kingdom fall. I will not betray the wolves who trust me.
I am alpha. I will endure.
I will invoke the Vocatio Regia.
For the first time in centuries, it will be done.
Even if it damns me.