CHAPTER THREE
A Bargain with the Beast
SERAPHINE
The Lycan King gave me a bedroom instead of a dungeon, which was insulting in ways I had not expected.
Prison should look like prison.
It should have iron bars, damp stone, and a bucket in the corner. It should not have a marble fireplace, blue velvet curtains, or a bed wide enough to host a diplomatic summit.
Two royal guards stood outside the door.
Another patrolled beneath the window.
The balcony dropped sixty feet to an ornamental courtyard.
I checked.
Darius caught me measuring the distance with my eyes and sighed.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
I hated that expression already.
He set a tray on the small table near the fire. Bread. Cheese. Roasted chicken. A bowl of winter pears.
“I’m not hungry.”
“That makes one of us.” He stole a piece of bread.
“You’re the king’s commander.”
“Among other burdens.”
“Do you always deliver meals to assassins?”
“Only royal ones.”
I folded my arms. “I am not royal.”
His eyes flicked toward my collarbone.
The mark was hidden again beneath a fresh black tunic someone had left for me.
“Not what I meant,” he said.
The mate bond pulsed low under my ribs.
It had not stopped since the map room.
Sometimes it was only warmth. Sometimes I became aware of Lucian somewhere beyond the walls, a pressure at the edge of thought. I could not read his mind, thank the moon. But I sensed his presence the way a wolf sensed a storm before clouds arrived.
I despised it.
I despised that my wolf did not.
She paced beneath my skin whenever his scent lingered in the hall.
Darius chewed his bread. “He kept his first promise.”
“What?”
“Twenty-three Ashen prisoners were released at dawn. The remaining six are charged with murder unrelated to the border rebellion. Their cases are being reviewed.”
I stared at him.
“Food wagons left for Blackwater before sunrise,” he added. “No royal banners. His order.”
“Why no banners?”
“He said hungry people shouldn’t have to thank the man they hate before they eat.”
That sounded nothing like the monster I had built in my mind.
Which made me angrier.
“I want to see the prisoners released.”
“You will.”
“When?”
“After the tribunal.”
I reached for my boots.
Darius groaned. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“You can’t.”
“The king promised—”
“The tribunal is downstairs.”
I stopped.
Darius grinned. “For someone who broke into a palace, you’re surprisingly dramatic.”
“I can still throw you off the balcony.”
“Lucian would be annoyed. He’d have to find another commander who tolerates him.”
The tribunal chamber looked older than the palace around it.
Seven black stone seats formed a crescent beneath a circular window. Moonlight would strike the center of the room at night, but morning filled it with thin winter sun.
Malrec occupied the highest seat.
Beside him sat six councilors, including Lady Elowen Ardyn.
Malrec’s daughter was not what I expected.
She was perhaps twenty-nine, with pale gold hair and steady gray eyes. She wore moon-white silk and no jewelry except a signet ring. Rumor said she had been raised to become Lucian’s queen, whether affection entered the arrangement or not.
She looked at me with open curiosity.
Not jealousy.
That was almost disappointing.
Lucian stood at the opposite side of the chamber.
He had changed into a black military coat buttoned to the throat. No crown today.
His gaze met mine.
Heat flickered beneath my skin.
I looked away first and hated myself for it.
Malrec began with a recitation of the Edict.
“Following the Red Moon Rebellion, King Aeron Veyr decreed that no member of the royal bloodline shall mate, marry, or knowingly bind with a bearer of the moon mark. The union is declared dangerous to crown, pack, and realm.”
“Conveniently vague,” I said.
One of the councilors scowled.
Elowen’s lips almost curved.
Malrec ignored me. “The accused displays the crescent.”
“Accused of existing?” I asked.
“Lady Vale,” Lucian said quietly.
I looked at him.
His face remained controlled, but amusement brushed the bond.
I nearly choked.
He could feel me too.
Wonderful.
Malrec continued. “The bond must be tested beneath full moonlight in thirteen days. If confirmed, severance must occur before the following moonrise.”
I knew what the law meant. I had heard enough stories growing up.
“What happens if the king refuses?” I asked.
No one answered immediately.
Lucian did.
“The crown passes to the nearest eligible heir.”
“And you?”
“Execution for treason against the Edict.”
The room felt colder.
I stared at him.
He looked almost bored.
But the bond went silent in a way I was beginning to understand meant deliberate control.
Malrec folded his hands. “The purpose of this trial period is to confirm lineage, bond, and threat. Lady Vale will remain within royal custody.”
“Protection,” Lucian corrected.
I laughed. “Such a comforting word.”
Elowen spoke for the first time. “Perhaps we should define the difference.”
Malrec’s eyes sharpened. “Elowen.”
She did not look at him. “If Lady Vale is protected, she may participate in her own defense. She may examine the Edict, its histories, and any evidence relating to its application.”
I studied her.
Lucian said, “Agreed.”
Malrec’s fingers tightened.
Interesting.
The tribunal ended with more rules than I cared to remember. I left with Darius and Lucian through the eastern corridor.
“I want access to the original Edict,” I said.
Lucian’s expression did not change. “So do I.”
“You’ve never seen it?”
“I’ve seen the court copy.”
“Not the original?”
“The original tablets are sealed beneath the old palace.”
“By whose authority?”
“Moon clergy.”
We both stopped walking.
Darius looked between us. “I dislike it when you two think at the same time.”
“Malrec,” I said.
Lucian nodded once.
For the first time since entering the palace, we agreed on something more important than mutual irritation.
High Seer Malrec did not want anyone looking too closely at the law that demanded my death.
That afternoon, Lucian showed me the forged border orders.
I showed him something he had missed.
The wax used on royal commands carried a trace of blue myrrh, a ceremonial resin burned only in moon temples.
He leaned over the parchment beside me.
“You’re certain?”
“I grew up with healers. Resins matter.”
His shoulder brushed mine.
The bond flared.
We both moved apart.
Darius, across the room, stared very hard at the ceiling.
“There was blue myrrh at Blackwater,” I said. “Burned into the walls after the attack.”
Lucian’s attention sharpened. “Then we start there.”
“You’re coming?”
“I am king.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It usually does.”
I folded the order and tucked it into the map case.
“Fine.”
His brow lifted. “Fine?”
“If you try to betray me, I’ll kill you.”
“You already tried.”
“Practice improves performance.”
His mouth actually curved.
It was not a full smile. It was worse.
It made the ruthless king look human.
My wolf pressed forward with sudden, traitorous interest.
I turned away.
I had thirty days to uncover a conspiracy, survive a law written to erase my bloodline, and avoid wanting the man I had sworn to hate.
The first two seemed easier.
* * *
Lucian’s idea of preparing for a dangerous border journey was to hand me a sword and tell me to attack him.
I liked the plan immediately.
The east training yard was empty except for Darius, who leaned against the wall eating an apple as if royal violence were breakfast entertainment.
Lucian removed his coat and rolled his sleeves.
“No knives,” he said.
“You’re taking all the joy out of this.”
“Training blades only.”
I tested the balance of the wooden sword.
“What are we training for?”
“Blackwater.”
“I know how to fight.”
“Yes.”
The way he said it annoyed me.
“What?”
“You fight like someone who expects no one to cover your back.”
I went still.
Darius stopped chewing.
Lucian continued, “You overextend when you think a target is yours alone. You leave your left side open because you assume retreat is your responsibility, not someone else’s defense.”
“That is a lot of criticism from a man I nearly stabbed.”
“Nearly is doing work in that sentence.”
I swung.
He blocked.
We moved across the yard.
Wood cracked against wood. He was stronger. I was faster in human form. He anticipated direct attacks too well, so I stopped giving him any.
I feinted high, kicked his knee, and drove the sword toward his ribs.
He twisted, caught my wrist, and used my momentum to turn me against him.
My back hit his chest.
The bond flared.
We froze.
His breath touched my ear.
“Your left side,” he murmured.
I stomped on his foot.
He released me with a curse.
Darius nearly choked on his apple.
“Useful lesson,” I said.
Lucian glared and reset his stance.
We fought until both of us were sweating and my arms ached.
Eventually he did something infuriating.
He trusted me.
He turned his back during a two-person defense drill and expected me to handle the attacker coming from his blind side.
I did.
Then he covered mine.
Simple.
Mechanical.
It unsettled me more than the bond.
Afterward, we sat on the stone steps while Darius fetched water.
Lucian’s hair had fallen across his forehead. Without the coat and crown, he looked younger.
Too human.
I disliked that too.
“What happens at Blackwater if the villagers attack you?” I asked.
“I let them be angry.”
“That was not the question.”
“If someone draws a weapon, Darius stops them.”
“And if Darius cannot?”
Lucian drank from the flask.
“I defend myself.”
“Without killing them?”
“If possible.”
I studied him.
“Why go personally?”
“Because the orders used my seal.”
“You could send investigators.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“Two disappeared. One returned with a report so useless I suspect he was frightened into writing it.”
“That still does not explain why a king walks into a village that hates him.”
He looked across the yard.
“My father used distance as armor. He signed orders and let other men see what they did.”
The answer came without performance.
I thought of the old wolf at the prison gate spitting near his boots.
“You make a habit of being present for hatred?”
“When I earned it.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
Darius returned with another flask and tossed it to me.
“You should ask him about the assassination council,” he said.
Lucian’s head turned. “No.”
My interest sharpened. “The what?”
Darius sat two steps below us. “After he took the throne, three dukes proposed a permanent committee to review threats against the crown.”
“That sounds normal.”
“They wanted authority to eliminate threats without trial.”
I looked at Lucian.
“What did you do?”
“Abolished the committee.”
Darius grinned. “Then someone tried to kill him at dinner.”
“Darius.”
“What? It is relevant.”
I laughed.
Lucian looked betrayed by both of us.
“Was the assassin on the committee?” I asked.
“His brother,” Darius said.
“Remarkably direct politics.”
Lucian stood. “Training is over.”
I remained seated.
“Why are you telling me any of this?”
Darius’s humor faded.
“Because you came here with a story about who he is.”
“So did everyone else.”
“Yes.” He tossed the apple core into a bucket. “Some stories are true. He is ruthless when cornered. He holds grudges. He thinks sleep is negotiable. He once made a baron stand in the rain for four hours because the man beat a stable boy.”
Lucian muttered, “It was raining already.”
Darius ignored him. “But if you are going to hate him, hate the man he actually is.”
The words settled too close to something I had been avoiding.
Lucian’s gaze met mine.
“I can offer the same courtesy,” he said.
“What story did you have about me?”
“Moonmarked rebel. Knife enthusiast. Reckless.”
“Those are mostly accurate.”
“I am discovering additional complications.”
“Such as?”
He looked at me for a second too long.
My pulse betrayed me.
Then he said, “You cheat in training.”
I threw the water flask at him.
He caught it.
Darius laughed.
Later, when I returned to my luxurious prison room, I realized something uncomfortable.
Trust had not arrived as a grand decision.
It had begun in the training yard when Lucian turned his back and assumed I would guard it.
And I had.