THE KING’S DEBT
THE KING'S DEBT
Freya
The anger I felt during my conversation with Kade carries over to the next day, making me clench my hands into fists even as I watch Finn play from the railing above the yard.
Kade thought he’d pretend to be clueless, to be out of control with Izel, and get away with it? He thought he could soften me with his words and his fake, gentle touches, bringing up our mate bond? He doesn’t know there’s no softness in me left. At least, not for him.
I pace restlessly, my heart heavy. It’s not just Kade I’m thinking of.
It’s also what’s coming next. The Conclave feels like a huge boulder rolling at me with a speed I’m certain will crush me.
If the High Council is truly involved with Izel—through Elder Thane—what chances do I have?
How would I know they haven’t rigged anything to make me fail on purpose?
And will half the pack really follow me if I successfully claim Severance?
If that does happen, delusionally so, it doesn’t sound anything like the prophecy Rowan told me about.
The High Luna is meant to bring empires together.
Not break them. Silvercrest is a centuries-old dynasty.
It has seen numerous Alphas and High Lunas. Who am I to divide it?
My thoughts break when a strange scent hits my nostrils. It’s foreign, wrong… evil. Ahead of me, just above Finn, a dark blotch begins to form, hovering like an opaque cloud that keeps expanding.
Nyx growls deep in my chest. ‘Move!’
The warning comes too late. Shadows bloom from the cloud itself—blotches darker than night, hovering and twisting like smoke with substance. They move down toward Finn, fluid and hungry, and he screams, stumbling to his feet. The boy in front of him runs to the side, saving himself.
I don’t think. I sprint down the stairs, running as fast as my feet can carry me and lunge, calling forth Nyx’s shield. But the clouds multiply, writhing, burning wherever they touch me.
“Finn!” I scream, reaching for him helplessly, though my eyes refuse to open. I groan in anger, commanding Nyx’s power. She offers it without bounds. I force my eyes open and see everything bathed in silver.
The first shadow hovers over Finn. I crash into it, hands outstretched, and it splits into three, licking my skin with black fire, passing through the shield with some resistance. Pain sears through me, hot and biting, and I stumble, pulling back—but more blotches swirl toward him.
The guards hesitate, frozen, unwilling—or too terrified—to step into the smoke.
“No!” I roar, throwing myself at him. Each shadow that touches me bursts into sparks that singe my arms, my face. My fingers curl, nails scraping sand and dirt, but I protect Finn’s body with mine, keeping him out of reach of the shadows.
Yet, Finn screams. “Mama!”
I twist, grab him, try to pull him back inside the keep—but another shadow wraps around his legs, coiling, hot and alive.
Then another grabs my leg and drags us both to the edge of the yard.
My hands strike, and tear using Nyx’s power, and yet, for every blotch I destroy, two more rise in its place.
My eyes close again, and when I open them, we’re in the woods. Out of the keep’s border.
Suddenly, a gust of wind hits us, dismantling the shadows momentarily. I see movements from the corner of my eyes. Dark figures pour from the forest, but not blotches—real, people.
Rowan?
Rowan.
He moves like a phantom. His sword arcs, clean and true, slicing through the smoky blotches.
Sparks flare where steel meets phantom, and the shadows hiss, retreating before him.
He barks orders; his rogues fan out, circling the yard but stopping just short of the boundary stones. Border law. They do not cross.
“Hold the line!” he shouts.
Our eyes meet. For one heartbeat, the world goes silent.
Nyx surges, full this time. My bones crack, skin stretches as I drop to all fours. The shift tears through me—pain and ecstasy in one motion. When I rise, silver fur gleams in the sun, dust swirling around my paws.
‘Feral,’ Nyx whispers. ‘Let even evil fear us.’
I launch at the nearest blotch, jaws snapping, claws ripping. Sparks blaze where my silver fur hits the black smoke. Another shadow wraps around Finn; I tear at it, but it splits again, burning my muzzle, my hands, my heart.
“Finn, run!” Rowan’s voice thunders.
The boy stumbles toward the fence, but another shadow coils for him. I spin, growling, claws slashing—but I’m too slow. Pain tears through me as fire sears my arms.
Then Rowan is there. He moves like a storm. Sword arcs, and the shadows part, shrieking, retreating into nothing. One sweep clears Finn entirely, Rowan’s arm shielding him as if he were treasure.
When silence finally falls, only the wind stirs the sand over the scorched traces of smoke.
Finn trembles, clutching his chest. I force myself back into human form, gasping, blood and soot streaking my neck.
My knees hit the sand beside him. Rowan pulls out his cloak and wraps it around my shoulder, covering my bare body.
I clutch it tight around me, not caring about anything but my child.
“It’s all right, love. You’re safe. Mama’s here.”
Rowan crouches opposite me, hand on Finn’s back, applying pressure to the bruise the shadows had left. His forest green eyes flick to mine. “Shadows conjured using witchcraft.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. His rogues remain beyond the boundary stones, heads bowed and hands sheathed.
Boots thunder from the main gate. Kade and his guards storm the yard, their swords drawn.
“What in the Goddess’s name—” His voice breaks when he sees Finn, wounded but breathing. Relief and rage knot in his eyes. Jax is beside him, his eyes widened in shock.
Kade reaches us—then stops when he sees my state. His eyes flare with disbelief when he sees who is standing beside me.
The Rogue King’s shadow falls long across the ground.
“Kade,” I manage, voice hoarse. “They came for Finn.”
Rowan rises, expression unreadable. “I tracked them from the northern ridge of the valley. Phantoms, shadows. We intercepted what we could.”
Kade’s grip tightens on his sword. “You broke border law.”
“I upheld it,” Rowan says, cold steel in his tone. “Not one of mine crossed until your heir bled. Your border stood, Kade. But your soldiers did not. The shadows burned through them—every last one—before I even arrived.”
I gasp in horror.
Fury and disbelief crack across Kade’s face. Emris strains, scent clashing with Rowan’s in the air.
“You expect me to thank you?” he demands.
Rowan’s lips curve faintly. “No. I expect you to keep your son alive.”
Jax shifts, prepared to defend his Alpha at command, his jaw clenched just as tight.
Finn whimpers. That sound ends the argument. Brin’s apprentices rush to carry him to the infirmary. I follow, but Rowan’s hand brushes my arm over the cloak—a fleeting touch, gone before Kade can react.
“Watch your borders, Freya,” he murmurs.
Then he turns, whistles once, and his rogues melt back into the forest like smoke.
Silence settles. Kade exhales slowly, fury draining to exhaustion. He looks at me—then toward where Rowan disappeared. “He saved our son,” he says, voice rough.
“He did,” I murmur.
For a long moment, Kade says nothing. The wind tugs at his dark hair. “My father banished him,” he mutters. “And now I owe him a debt.”
“You owe him Finn’s life. You can never repay it.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Do you think I don’t know that?”
We stand amid scorched ground and smoke-stained ghosts of shadows. Kade’s gaze flicks to the treeline, to where Rowan vanished.
At last, he says to Jax: “Send word. The Rogue King of Nightfell will be received as a guest of Silvercrest—under treaty law.”
Even Nyx stills, stunned by this action. ‘He invites the storm inside,’ she whispers.
Maybe. But for once, I see no arrogance in Kade’s eyes—only reluctant recognition that power no longer bends solely to him.
The King of Rogues saved the future Alpha of Silvercrest.
And Kade Thorne, for the first time, owes a debt he can never repay.
And he may not know it, but by doing this, he has just ruined the High Council’s plan of getting rid of Nightfell using Silvercrest.