The groom was late—almost half an hour late. Moira’s gown swept behind her in a trail of ivory silk as she kept her gaze fixed on the cathedral doors. “He’s simply delayed,” she told herself. Jonan wouldn’t miss his own wedding.
Not with the kingdom’s future, her father’s legacy, and a fragile political alliance hanging in the balance. Her gaze drifted across the cathedral and, against her will, landed on Raylan. He sat in the front row to her right, exactly where an Alpha King was expected to sit, and he was already watching her. She looked away immediately.
He was the most powerful shifter ruler on the continent, her fiancé’s brother, and a notorious playboy. She had met him twice, but she had thought about him far more than twice. The scar through his left eyebrow, the jawline, those hazel eyes. She had spent four years finding the thought inconvenient.
The doors opened. Footsteps—too quick, not Jonan’s. A young messenger in royal livery hurried up the aisle and handed her a letter. She knew before breaking the seal.
The priest read it aloud for her: “His Highness Prince Jonan has been summoned to the bedside of Lady Isolde, who has fallen gravely ill. He must attend to her immediately. ”
The cathedral ignited with whispers. Isolde.
Of course. The first love. The dying woman whose illnesses always arrived with impeccable timing. This was not the first time—Isolde had been gravely ill no fewer than six times since the betrothal was announced.
The priest turned to her. “Your Highness, shall we postpone the ceremony? ”
Behind her, her father’s men spoke in low, urgent voices. “If the alliance collapses, we lose the northern trade routes entirely.
”
Before she could answer, the energy in the cathedral shifted. The crowd’s attention redirected with the involuntary unanimity of a flock of birds catching a current. Raylan had risen from his seat. Wolf pack leaders dropped their gazes as he passed.
Human envoys averted their eyes. He reached the altar steps and looked up at her. “Well,” he said, “this is an interesting ceremony so far. ”
“You’re supposed to be seated,” she pointed out.
“I was,” he replied. “And then I thought someone ought to do something about this. ”
He glanced across the crowd. “Everyone seems to be waiting.
So, here I am. ”
“Your Majesty, this is not the moment—”
“Moira,” he interrupted. “Marry me instead. ”
People gasped.
“You cannot be serious,” she said. “I am always serious,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving. “I’m simply serious in an entertaining way. ”
“Your reputation precedes you considerably,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Most of my best qualities do. ”
He took a step closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “I have a plan. ”
“You do,” she challenged.
“Of course,” he smirked. His eyes were direct, warm and steady. “You cannot possibly want to marry someone you’ve spoken to twice. ”
“Three times,” Raylan said.
“You forgot the dance. ”
She had not forgotten the dance. “You told me—with extraordinary audacity—that you believed I was your fated mate as a pickup line while you were drunk. Forgive me if I’m not rushing to the altar.
”
He looked amused. “You’re already at the altar. ”
The silence stretched between them, thin and charged. “You swear,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt, “that this maintains the alliance between our kingdoms?
”
“On my crown,” Raylan said. She held his gaze for a long moment, ran the rapid calculation of a woman who had spent her life balancing kingdoms on the point of a decision. Then she admitted she had no other choice and turned to the priest. “Proceed,” she said.
Raylan’s exhale was very quiet. She almost didn’t catch it. —
Moira had not planned for this. She had spent two years planning to be a princess consort.
Now she was queen. She thought about Jonan. This was all his fault. She had trusted him, been blindsided by his earnest eyes and his talk of duty and honor while he reserved the right to abandon her at the altar for his dying first love.
She wanted him to suffer. Wanted him to realize what he’d lost. Across the ballroom, Raylan laughed at something Lord Varen said. Her gaze caught on him without permission, and his eyes flicked up and found hers.
She stood and walked toward her husband. “Your Majesty,” she greeted. “Your Majesty,” Raylan returned, somehow making it sound like an entirely different thing. “You look like you have something on your mind.
”
“Several things we should discuss. Now. ”
“Now? We’re at a party.
”
He extended his hand. “Dance with me first. ”
His fingers closed around hers, warm and certain, and she felt the contact travel up her arm. The musicians shifted smoothly into a waltz.
“What did you want to discuss? ”
“Not here,” she said. “Why not? ” He guided her through a turn.
“We’re alone in a room full of people. Very romantic. ”
His scent reached her properly for the first time since the cathedral. Her wolf went still.
Reverent. She had never felt anything like it. “Moira. ” His voice, low and close.
She realized she had stopped moving. “Are you all right? ”
“Fine,” she managed. “I think we should discuss the parameters of our arrangement.
”
“Moira,” he said. “You’re my wife. I think we can dispense with the formality. ”
“Fine.
Raylan, we—”
He dipped her. Slow, controlled, deliberate. The room tilted. His face above hers, close enough that she could see the scar through his eyebrow.
Then he turned to the hall. “Thank you,” Raylan said, his voice carrying effortlessly. “For celebrating with us tonight. It’s been a lovely evening.
But I think it’s time my wife and I retired to bed for the night. ”
The pause was deliberate. She felt it like a held breath. “Don’t wait up,” he added.
The ballroom erupted. Heat climbed her neck. On the way to his chambers, she kept replaying it: *My wife and I are going to bed. * Everyone would assume they were going to consummate the marriage.
Was that what Raylan assumed? She pictured his mouth, the weight of him, what he would look like with that careful control stripped away. They stopped in front of a heavy oak door. He opened it and gestured her through with easy courtesy.
“So,” he said, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. Her heart kicked. “You wanted to discuss the plan? ” Raylan asked, his tone carefully neutral in a way that made her suspect he was working hard not to laugh.
“Oh. ” He wasn’t about to remove her dress. Relief—and something that was absolutely not disappointment—flooded through her. “Yes.
I would like to understand the terms of our arrangement before things progress any further. ”
“Things? ” Raylan repeated, pushing off the door with lazy grace. “What things?
”
“Our marriage. ”
“Mhm. ” He poured two glasses of wine. “And what would you like to know?
”
“Why you did it,” Moira said. “Married me, when you could have offered any number of alternatives that didn’t involve binding yourself to a stranger. ”
“You needed a move,” he said finally. “I gave you one.
”
“That’s not an answer. ”
“It’s part of one. ” Raylan smiled. “I had a use for a wife, and you conveniently needed a husband.
The timing worked. ”
She frowned. “You’re going to need to be more specific. ”
“What do you want out of this marriage?
” he asked. “The alliance. Political stability. ”
“Sure.
” He waved his hand as though this were inconsequential. “But what about Jonan? ”
Her jaw tightened. “What are you asking?
”
“I’m asking,” he said, meeting her gaze, “if you’d like my brother back. ”
She froze. She kept her expression smooth and lied. “No.
”
Raylan’s eyes narrowed. “Try again. ”
“I don’t want him back,” Moira said. “But he did leave me at the altar in front of everyone who matters.
”
“You want revenge,” Raylan guessed. “You want him to see what he lost. ”
“And if I do? ”
Raylan smiled.
“Then our interests align. ”
“They do? ”
“There’s someone at court,” he said. “Someone I want.
A woman. She decided I wasn’t capable of being serious about anything. She won’t be with me. I’d like her to reconsider.
”
“So you married me to make her jealous? ”
“I married you,” he corrected, “to make both our exes extremely jealous while maintaining the political alliance your father needs. ”
She stared at him. “That’s brilliant,” he supplied.
“Insane,” she finished. The dimple appeared. “That too. ”
Despite herself, she felt her mouth want to curve.
“And if it works? If they come back? ”
“If Jonan wants you back,” Raylan said, “I’ll arrange a quiet annulment. You can marry him properly.
The alliance holds either way. And if my lady wants me back, you stay queen. I’ll be discreet. You won’t be bothered.
”
“Who is she? ” Moira asked. Raylan looked at her for a long moment. “Lady Jessa.
”
Moira knew the name. Beautiful, sophisticated, had left court six months ago, reportedly to travel. “You were involved with her,” Moira pressed. “And she left because she thought you weren’t serious?
While you sincerely love her? ”
Raylan turned to the window. “Do you know what it’s like,” he said quietly, “to be defined entirely by a mask you built to survive? Everyone decides what you are before you open your mouth.
Then someone comes along who you think might see past it. And they decide the mask is all there is. That you’re not capable of anything real. ”
“So yes,” Raylan said.
“I want her to understand she was wrong about me. That I’m capable of commitment and devotion and all the things she decided I wasn’t. ”
“Fine,” Moira said. “I have conditions.
”
“Of course you do. ”
“The performance is for the public. What we do behind closed doors is separate. No consummation.
”
The sound Raylan made was half laugh, half snort. Her spine went rigid. “Something funny? ”
“No,” he said quickly.
“Then why did you laugh? ”
“I didn’t laugh. I made a noise,” Raylan said, clearly working hard not to make another one. Heat climbed her neck.
“I’m establishing boundaries. ”
“You’re establishing very clear boundaries,” he agreed. “Very firm ones about the thing we are absolutely, definitely not doing. ”
“We’re not,” she confirmed.
“Understood. ” He took a step closer. “No consummation. No mutual pleasure.
No touching. ”
“Separate bedrooms, even. ”
He stopped directly in front of her. “Unless,” he said softly, his eyes finding hers, “you change your mind.
”
Her breath caught. —
Approximately forty-eight hours into being queen, Moira discovered that everyone was always looking. Several hundred pairs of eyes followed her like she was fascinating and possibly about to do something scandalous—which, to be fair, she had, two days ago, at an altar, in front of everyone who mattered. At the reception, Raylan’s hand settled at her lower back.
It felt like lightning. She kept her breathing even. *Make their exes jealous. Maintain the political alliance.
Salvage her dignity. * That was the plan. His thumb brushed once against the base of her spine through the silk of her gown. She shivered.
“You look stunning,” Raylan murmured. His hand slid lower, still acceptable, but closer to improper. “I should be commended for my restraint. ”
“Your restraint,” Moira said, “is the least commendable thing about you.
”
He laughed, quiet and genuine, vibrating through her in a way that was deeply inconvenient. Then he straightened and moved to work the room. She watched him do it with the skill of someone born to it. But sometimes, when he looked back at her, the practiced smile softened into something that looked almost genuine.
She hated that she noticed the difference. “Your Majesty. ” She turned. Jonan stood three feet away, hands clasped behind his back in the formal posture he defaulted to when uncomfortable.
The hurt, raw and humiliating, twisted in her chest. And now he was looking at her with that wounded expression, like *she* had done something wrong, while Isolde was on his arm. Isolde looked radiant. Not recovered-from-a-deadly-illness radiant.
Just radiant in the way beautiful women looked when they had gotten exactly what they wanted. “Lady Isolde,” Moira said. “I’m pleased your recovery was so swift. ”
“Your Majesty is too kind.
The healers worked miracles. ”
“Clearly,” Moira said. Warmth pressed against her back. Raylan had returned.
“Brother,” he said, too pleasantly. “Lady Isolde. How delightful to see you both looking so well. ”
Jonan’s jaw flexed.
“Brother. I merely wish to speak with Moira about—”
“That’s *Her Royal Majesty* to you,” Raylan corrected softly. The silence was exquisite. Jonan went pale, his expression moving through hurt, anger, humiliation before smoothing into careful blankness.
“Her Royal Majesty,” Jonan repeated. The words sounded like they cost him something. “If you’ll excuse us,” Raylan said, already guiding Moira away. Later, she murmured, “I need air.
”
Raylan looked at her, sharp and assessing. “You’re hoping my brother will follow you. ”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “That was rather the point, wasn’t it?
Jessa is over there. ” She snapped and walked away. The night air was cool against her skin. She pressed her palms to the stone railing and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
Behind her, the balcony door opened. She knew the cadence of those footsteps. “My brother. ” Jonan’s voice was tight with disbelief.
“Really, Moira? You don’t even know him. ”
She turned slowly. “I know that he was there.
At the altar, on my wedding day. Which is more than I can say for you. ”
Jonan clenched his jaw. “There we go again.
You refuse to consider what Isolde was going through. ”
“Isolde? ” Moira gestured through the glass doors, where the lady was spinning in the arms of some minor noble. “Seems to be having quite a lot of fun for someone who was at death’s door two days ago.
”
“The illness has receded for now. That doesn’t mean it won’t return. ”
“The moment you start paying attention to another woman,” Moira finished. “You abandoned me for her on the most important day of my life, and you’re asking *me* to understand?
”
His eyes flashed. “I never knew you to be so heartless. ”
“If I’m heartless,” she said, moving toward the door, “then I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t get married. ”
His hand closed around her arm.
“Moira. I know for a fact you haven’t consummated your marriage with my brother. You don’t smell like him, not the way you would if you had. There’s still time.
We can fix this. An annulment, before it’s too late. You don’t know Raylan, not really. He’ll grow bored.
”
“I’m perfectly aware he doesn’t love me. ”
“Then perhaps you think you’ll be immune to his charms. But he will hurt you, Moira. Don’t let him use you like he’s used everyone else.
”
Something in her chest went tight. Not because the words hurt, though they did, but because they rang true. “Right,” she said quietly. “Because he couldn’t possibly consider me a good queen in my own right.
”
“Moira, that’s not what I—”
“You’re right,” she said, pulling free. “I don’t know him. But I know you, Jonan. I know that you left me at an altar in front of everyone who mattered.
And now you’re standing here acting like I’m the one who betrayed you. ”
She turned and made it three steps into the ballroom before warmth pressed against her back. “Was he sufficiently miffed, my love? ” Raylan’s voice came too flat.
“That,” she managed, “remains to be seen. ”
“Don’t divorce me too soon. I still need to show Jessa I can be serious. ”
She turned to face him.
He was holding a glass of amber liquor, cheeks flushed, eyes bright but slightly unfocused. “Try harder,” she snapped. He stared at her, ran a hand through his hair. “All right.
I’ll be very serious. ” He held out his hand. “Dance with me. ”
The music shifted, something slow, and he pulled her closer.
She needed to break the silence. “You know, if Lady Jessa doesn’t like you the way you are, perhaps she isn’t the right lady for you. ”
His expression shifted. “She is right,” he said, and the weight in his voice was enormous—certainty and longing and something that sounded like grief.
“There could be no one else. There is only her. ” His tone made her breath catch. He loved Jessa completely.
“I just need her to see me. ”
Her chest ached. She glanced toward Jessa, who was watching them with that knowing, amused smile. Annoyance flared.
Who did she think she was, dismissing the Alpha King like he was nothing? “We’ll make her see you,” Moira said, squeezing his hand. “I promise. ”
His scent changed, became quietly pleased, touched.
“Thank you,” Raylan said softly. They stood there for one breath, two, his hand still at her waist, hers still in his. *This is a performance*, she reminded herself. The music ended.
—
The first week of her marriage to Raylan was nothing like the two years of courtship with Jonan. Jonan had been proper and respectful. Raylan treated her like she was something he wanted to devour—and it was all performance. She repeated this to herself approximately forty times a day.
“You’re overdoing it,” she protested during a dance when his hand slipped lower. “No, I’m not. ” His voice went husky. “They need to believe it.
”
“Believe what? ”
He pulled her closer. “That every touch,” Raylan said, his mouth very close to her ear, “every whisper, every moment in your presence is breathtaking. ”
Her breath actually stopped.
There was also the fact that Lady Jessa was always there, attending every function looking elegant and amused and completely unbothered by the devoted husband act. When Raylan stepped away during the ball to speak with Jessa in private, something hot and irrational coiled in Moira’s stomach. Later, Jessa was introduced to her. “Your Majesty.
I wanted to congratulate you on your marriage. ”
Raylan’s smile was polite, practiced. Moira watched for the dimple. Hated that she was looking for it.
It didn’t appear. That night she dreamed of Raylan—his hands, his voice, his scent, the heat of his body against hers. She woke flushed and furious with herself. *It’s just stress.
The alpha effect. My wolf responding to a dominant male. * Her wolf curled quiet in her chest. Three weeks into the marriage, late one night, Moira crossed paths with Raylan outside his study.
“Are you lurking in the dark, husband? ”
“I’m merely existing in the same realm as you, wife. ”
“Directly in my path? ”
“In your palace.
And you’re my queen,” his voice dropped slightly. “That makes it ours. ”
Her pulse kicked hard. “You’re enjoying this.
”
“What if I am? ”
She should leave. She stepped closer instead. “You’re very good at it.
The devoted husband act. The court is certainly convinced. They think I’m besotted with you. ”
Raylan pushed off the door frame, closing the distance.
His hand slid to her neck, thumb resting against her pulse point. “Tell me something, Moira. When I touch you like this, do you think about the performance? ”
She couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t do that. ”
“Do what? ”
“Look at me like that. ”
He stepped closer.
“Like what, Moira? ”
Hearing her name said like that—rough, possessive—unsettled her more than any touch. She retreated. “Good night, Your Majesty.
”
His voice followed her, low and possessive. “Good night, my queen. ”
The next morning, Moira woke with nausea. She sat up too quickly, pressing a hand to her mouth.
“Fetch the healer,” she gasped. The palace healer arrived within the hour. “Any dizziness? Sensitivity to scent?
”
Her stomach turned at the question. “Perhaps. ”
The healer’s expression shifted in a way Moira immediately disliked. “Your cycle.
When was it last regular? ”
“That is not your concern. ”
“It is if I’m to treat you, Your Majesty. ”
Her mind raced backward through state functions and wedding preparations.
“Six weeks,” she whispered. The healer’s voice was gentle but final. “Your Majesty, you are with child. ”
“No.
”
“Yes. ”
The room tilted. Six weeks pregnant. There was only one man she had ever been with.
This was Jonan’s child. —
Moira had been sitting in her chambers for three hours. Pregnant. Six weeks.
In another few weeks, shifters would scent it. She should have told Raylan. One drunken night at the engagement party didn’t guarantee pregnancy, but it didn’t rule it out either. And she had said nothing.
He had been kind, unexpectedly, consistently kind. He had married her when she had no other move, and she had been hiding this the entire time. She found him in his study. “Moira.
” He was standing before she registered the movement. “What’s wrong? ”
She shook her head. “Talk to me.
” He was in front of her, hands hovering. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. ”
She closed her eyes. “I’m pregnant.
”
Silence. His hand settled on her shoulder, tightened once. “It’s Jonan’s,” she explained, the words tumbling out. “From before the wedding.
The engagement party. It was one time. I should have told you. I understand if you want to—”
“Moira.
” She looked up. “The child is royal,” Raylan said, warm and matter-of-fact. “You’re my wife. I’ll claim it as mine.
”
She stared. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to,” Raylan said, no hesitation. “I want to. ”
“But how does this serve the plan?
What does this do for Jessa? ”
His mouth curved into something genuine. “If I’m claiming my wife’s child as my own, Jessa’s going to have a hard time arguing I’m not serious about anything. Isn’t she?
”
The relief was enormous. The terror she had carried for three hours lifted, leaving her shaking. “Come here,” Raylan said quietly. She collapsed against his chest.
His arms came around her, solid and completely steady. He didn’t speak, just held her. The next morning, her things had been moved—her clothes, her books, everything relocated to chambers adjoining Raylan’s, connected by an interior door currently standing open. She found him in the shared sitting area, reading correspondence.
“You moved my things. ”
“Your rooms were too far. ”
“Too far from what? ”
“From me,” he said with a patient look.
Food started appearing—not generic meals. The particular bread that settled her stomach. Ginger tea at exactly the moment the nausea hit. After three days, she cornered him.
“Have you been giving the kitchens instructions about what I eat? ”
He looked at her like she had asked why the sun rose. “You’re pregnant. You need to eat specific things or you’ll be ill.
”
“I can manage my own. ”
“You were managing it by not eating. Now you’re eating actual food. Problem solved.
”
A week in, she figured out the scent marking. He touched her more than the performance required—in private as well as public. His hand at her back, her shoulder, her hair. Casual.
Constant. He was hiding the pregnancy for her, and she hadn’t even needed to ask. When the nausea was bad, when court was too much, ginger tea appeared. Her schedule was quietly cleared.
He sat with her in the evenings when she was too exhausted to perform and simply let her be tired. He was kind, she realized—much more so than he let on. And he was kind while taking care of a woman whose child wasn’t his. That afternoon, she made a decision.
She needed to tell Jonan. He was the biological father. He had a right to know. And if he wanted her back, Raylan would be free to pursue Jessa properly.
It was only fair. He was helping her. She would help him. She would tell his brother about the child today.
“You’re tense. ” She looked up. Raylan was watching her from the doorway. “I’m fine.
”
“You’re not. ” He settled onto the sofa. “Come here. ”
“I don’t need—”
His hands settled on her shoulders, warm and certain, finding the knots of tension.
His thumbs pressed into the base of her neck, slow and deliberate. She melted completely. *I should tell Jonan today*, she thought. *I have good reasons.
*
His thumbs found the knot at the base of her skull, and her thoughts scattered. *I’ll tell Jonan tomorrow. *
That night, she couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed and listened through the walls.
Silence. He wasn’t there. *He’s with her. He’s with Jessa.
* She was out of bed before she made the conscious decision, crossing the sitting area to his door. It opened. Raylan stood there, slightly disheveled, shirt unlaced, looking confused and amused. “Moira?
What’s wrong? ”
Relief flooded through her so intensely it made her knees weak. His scent hit her properly. She realized she had grown addicted to this—his scent, his touch, his presence.
“Moira,” he said. “Talk to me. ”
She kissed him. Not a decision.
Just movement. Her hands in his hair, her mouth on his, her body pressed against him with a desperation she couldn’t name. He made a sound, and then his hands were on her waist pulling her closer, kissing her back with an intensity that made her forget why this was a bad idea. “Moira.
” Rough, strained. “Are you sure? ”
“Don’t talk,” she said. He kissed her again, and talking became impossible.
He took her to his bed and worshipped her. His hands mapped every inch of her skin. His mouth followed, slow and deliberate, like he had been waiting for this and refused to rush. When he finally moved over her, she felt something in her chest crack open.
He moved carefully, watching her face, one hand cradling her jaw while the other gripped her hip with possessive certainty. She wrapped her legs around him, and his control fractured. She came apart in his arms, and he followed moments later, burying his face in her neck. “Perfect,” Raylan murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“You’re perfect. ”
She wasn’t. She had just complicated everything impossibly. But his warmth surrounded her.
His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear. She closed her eyes and let herself believe this was fine—just for tonight. —
Moira woke to warmth. For one perfect moment, she didn’t think—just felt Raylan’s body behind her, his arm heavy and possessive around her waist, his breath stirring her hair.
Safe. Held. Content. Then her mind caught up.
She was in his bed. They had slept together. She was pregnant with Jonan’s child, married to Raylan under a fake arrangement, and she had just complicated everything impossibly. She sat up too quickly, pulling the sheet to her chest as if fabric could rebuild the armor she had let him strip away.
Behind her, Raylan stirred. “It’s way too early to be getting up,” he murmured, his hand finding her hip. “Usually women leave after breakfast. The breakfast is excellent.
”
*Usually women. * Because of course there had been others. She was just another in a long line of conquests. “Well,” she said, her voice dry and controlled, “that was—”
“That was?
”
She touched her temples. “It was a mistake. Pregnancy hormones. They’re intense.
” She pushed off the bed, retrieving her nightgown. “It doesn’t mean anything. ”
She said it before he could. Because of course it wasn’t special to him.
She was just another distraction in his campaign to win back Jessa. “If you say so,” Raylan said finally. Flat. Neutral.
She left before he could see how much that hurt. In the days that followed, Raylan remained polite, attentive, controlled. But the warmth was muted. He no longer appeared each morning with ginger tea.
Didn’t sit with her entire evenings. The distance was careful and deliberate, like he was giving her exactly what she had asked for. She told herself she should be relieved. It felt like losing something precious she hadn’t known she was allowed to want.
She tested it one evening. “You haven’t spoken to Jessa lately? ”
“I suppose not,” Raylan said, flat and unreadable. “Shouldn’t you be working on showing her you’re serious?
”
No reaction. Just silence. She was falling in love with him. The realization had been growing since that night.
Undeniable. Terrifying. Falling in love with a man who loved someone else. Who had been kind out of duty and pragmatism.
And she had ruined it by wanting more. That night, she wrote the letter to Jonan. *”I am with child. Two months.
The timing will tell you what you need to know. “* She told herself he had a right to know, but she felt guilty, like she was betraying Raylan. She sealed it with shaking fingers. —
The royal hunt was supposed to be a spectacle.
Pack leaders, nobles, a display of strength for the assembled court. Moira rode with controlled posture, playing the alpha queen. Raylan stayed close enough to protect her but not close enough to touch without reason. She felt every inch of the absence.
Jonan found his moment when she stepped away from the main group. “Moira. ” Urgent. “I must speak with you.
”
She followed him into the trees. “I received your letter,” Jonan said without preamble. “I regret sending it. ”
“Why?
”
“The child is mine, isn’t it? And yet I’m married to another man. ”
“You don’t have to be. ” He stepped closer.
“I still love you, Moira. ”
The words should have stirred something. They didn’t. “Then you should have shown up at the altar.
”
“You’re right. ” Quiet. Ashamed. “I thought Isolde was dying.
She begged me to come say goodbye. I didn’t know how to refuse her. But I’m not blind. I’ve seen how quickly she recovered.
I know she still hopes for a future between us, even though I’ve made it clear that I’m—”
“That you’re what? ”
“That I’m in love with you. ” He took her hand. She let him, too surprised to pull away.
“It was always you. I made a mistake, but I love you. And you’re pregnant with our child. We can fix this.
We can be a family. ”
“I’ve slept with Raylan. ”
Jonan went still. “Oh.
” A pause. “It doesn’t matter. Of course you did. He’s irresistible, or so I hear.
” He shook his head, physically dislodging the information. “I forgive you, Moira—for leaving, for betraying me with him. None of that matters. We can be together.
”
“I forgive you. ” As if she were the one who had done something wrong. A part of her thought this would be safer—legitimacy for the child, a clean resolution, an escape from the impossible situation with Raylan. Another part was furious that he felt like he was the one forgiving her.
“I need time to think. ”
“How much time? ”
“Two days. Give me until your birthday ball.
I’ll have an answer then. ”
He squeezed her hand and left. Moira stood alone in the trees, feeling nothing. No attraction, no longing, no pull toward the man who wanted to build a life with her.
Empty. At the pavilion, Raylan was mingling. As she approached, his hand shot out, catching her wrist and pulling her to him, the devoted husband for watching eyes. “Where were you, wife?
”
“Taking a walk. ”
“With my brother? ”
“There are things left unsaid, as you can imagine. ”
He searched her face.
“Do you still love him? ” he asked quietly. “Even now? ”
The question caught her off guard.
He looked tense, almost hurt. But that didn’t make sense—unless he was hoping she would go back to Jonan, hoping to be set free to pursue Jessa. Something in her wanted to tell him she loved *him*. But he didn’t love her.
And if she could give him his freedom, wasn’t that the right thing? “I think there could be a future between us,” Moira said carefully. “Jonan and me. He wants to fix things.
”
Raylan’s face went completely neutral. “I see,” he said. He released her wrist, didn’t return to the nobles, just grabbed a drink and walked into the trees alone. Two days until Jonan’s birthday ball.
Two days to make the decision that would set Raylan free and break her own heart. It was the right thing to do. She just wished it didn’t feel so much like dying. —
Jonan’s birthday celebration flooded the palace with noise and warmth and undercurrents.
Moira couldn’t concentrate on a single one. Her attention kept sliding sideways toward the man two feet to her left. She could tell Raylan’s mood without looking at him, and she was miserably aware that she had hurt him. “Moira.
” Jonan stood at her elbow. “You said we would speak tonight. ”
“Later, Jonan. ”
“This is your ball.
Enjoy it. ” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I want us to be a family, Moira. You, me, and our child.
That’s what’s right—for the baby, for the kingdoms—”
Her pulse spiked. Not from his words, but from the crawling awareness of eyes nearby. She looked left. Jessa stood four feet away, half turned as though watching the dancers, gaze sharp.
She had heard. “Excuse me,” Moira said and moved before Jonan could respond. Jessa was already drifting toward the corridor. Moira followed and caught her in the adjoining hallway.
“You’re fast,” Jessa observed. “You overheard us. ”
“Well, you weren’t exactly being quiet. ”
“I need your word that you won’t repeat what you heard.
”
Jessa studied her for a moment, not with malice but with a complicated expression. Then she nodded. “I won’t. ” Her tone shifted, careful but with an edge.
“That being said—if you’re planning to leave His Majesty, you should at least respect him enough to tell him yourself. ”
“That is none of your concern. ”
“It becomes my concern when you’re about to hurt him. ”
The words landed harder than they should have.
Jessa wasn’t looking at her like a rival. She was looking at her like someone with a personal stake in an outcome Moira didn’t understand. “Is that what you want? To leave him?
”
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Moira said. “I will always do what is best for my kingdom. ”
“Does he know? About the baby?
”
“He does. And he’ll stay for the same reason I will—for the good of the kingdom. ”
Jessa’s expression shifted into disbelief. “Is that genuinely what you think?
”
“That everything he’s done has been for the good of the kingdom? What else would it be? He loves you, Jessa, not me. I am a political asset, a convenient wife.
I was never anything more than a solution to a problem. ”
Jessa stared at her, genuinely taken aback. “You’re his past,” Moira continued, the fury in her own voice telling her things she wasn’t ready to hear. “His obsession.
The woman the entire arrangement was built around. ”
“Your Majesty. ” Jessa’s voice dropped, quiet and deliberate. “You are wrong about him.
You are very significantly wrong, and I think if you go and speak to him tonight—”
The sensation hit her mid-sentence. Not an emotion. Physical. Abrupt and cold, landing in her gut like a stone dropped through still water.
*Wrong. * The word arrived before she had framed a thought, screaming and wordless, with the quality of an alarm she understood immediately. It didn’t feel like hers. It landed as though transmitted rather than generated.
Not her panic. *His. *
“Your Majesty? ” Jessa’s voice came from somewhere slightly outside her focus.
“I have to find Raylan,” Moira said. She was already moving, back into the hall, cutting through the crowd. She was listening to the pull, the wrongness growing sharper, guiding her like a current toward the side corridor. She felt the precise moment he went from controlled to diminished, like a flame going from steady to barely held.
She found him in the alcove at the end of the corridor. With Isolde. Isolde’s hands rested on Raylan’s arms. His face was tilted toward her neck—not kissing, his nose against her skin—and Isolde’s body was angled toward him with the satisfaction of a woman who had arranged things exactly as she intended.
The jealousy was immediate and total. She was already turning away. She stopped. She made herself think.
Raylan did not like Isolde. He had never sought her out. And she knew him. This did not fit.
She turned back and looked at him. His eyes were wrong—glassy and unfocused. He who was never less than fully present. His movements were slow, effortful.
His weight rested against the wall with a dependence that had everything to do with his legs not being reliable. The jealousy turned to ice. The ice shattered into fury so clean it felt like clarity. She crossed the distance in a few strides.
“Step away from my husband. ”
Isolde startled, dropping her hands. “Your Majesty, I was only trying to help. I found him like this and I was worried.
”
“Step away from him. ” Moira reached for Raylan, and she felt his weight shift toward her immediately—unguarded, instinctive. His skin was too warm. “What did you give him?
He can barely stand. ”
She turned to him, forcing her voice steady. Her hand went to his face. “Raylan, listen to me.
Stay awake. ”
He blinked, his eyes finding her face with visible effort. Underneath the fog, unmistakably, relief. “Moira,” he said, slurred and soft.
Her throat closed. She turned back to Isolde. “You did this. ”
Isolde’s wide eyes filled.
“I would never. I would never harm the king. I found him like this—”
“Guards! ” Moira raised her voice.
“Jonan! ”
Jonan arrived in seconds, alarm collapsing his expression as he took in Raylan swaying against Moira’s grip. “What happened? ”
“Ask her.
”
Isolde turned to Jonan, eyes shimmering. “Jonan, I swear—”
“She has been manipulating you for months,” Moira interrupted. “And now she has drugged the king. ”
Jonan looked at Isolde.
“Why? Why would you do this? ”
“I didn’t do it. You know she hates me.
She would say anything—”
“If you weren’t the one who did this,” Moira said, her fury gone cold, “you would have called for help. It’s obvious he is unwell. You kept him here and said nothing when he could be dying, for all you know. ”
Isolde’s eyes flickered.
“He is not dying,” she said, with a certainty that arrived too fast to be anything but a mistake. “He is not dying,” Moira repeated. “You said that with a great deal of confidence for a woman who claims not to know what’s wrong with him. ”
Isolde heard the trap closing, but the words were already out.
“Either you took a chance on the king’s life because you thought you could profit from his state,” Moira said, “or you know exactly what is wrong with him because you are the one who caused it. ”
Jonan looked at Isolde. “She’s right,” he said quietly. “I know you, and she’s right.
”
The composure cracked. “What was I supposed to do? ” Isolde said. “Ever since she married your brother, you have completely forgotten I exist.
I only wanted you to see—”
“By drugging the king,” Moira said, “to manipulate Jonan into coming back to you. ”
Isolde turned to Jonan. Her tears returned, immediate. “Jonan, please!
”
“How dare you! ” Jonan interrupted. “How dare you harm my brother! ” He turned to the guards.
“Arrest her. ”
The tears evaporated as completely as if they had never existed. “You can’t do this to me after everything! ”
He said nothing, and the guards took her from the hall still shouting his name.
Raylan swayed, worse this time. Moira’s grip tightened, her other arm going around him, but his full weight came into her chest before she could brace. “Get a healer,” Jonan barked. “Now.
”
Her arms wrapped around him. “Raylan, you have to stay awake. Please. ”
The truth arrived with the quietness of something that had always been true.
She loved him. —
The healers had told her three times that he was fine. Moira sat beside Raylan’s bed anyway. He looked younger in sleep.
She had been watching him breathe for two hours. She stood, and made it four steps before the discomfort started. A wrongness that built under her skin, a pull in her chest that grew with each step from the bed. Her wolf whined, low and insistent.
She walked back and sat down. The door opened. Jonan entered quietly, crossing to the bed and looking at his brother’s face for a long moment. “How is he?
”
“The same,” she said. “Asleep. ”
“Isolde gave him a heavy dose. ”
Jonan pulled a chair from the corner.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It isn’t me you should be apologizing to. ”
Jonan’s eyes stayed on his brother’s face. “Growing up, he always seemed so untouchable to me.
Like nothing affected him. ”
“You were jealous of him? ”
“Not exactly. Not at first.
He was always too much, somehow. And I was just—boring, I guess. ”
“Perhaps you’re not as different as you think,” Moira observed. Jonan was quiet.
“He never made it easy to get close to him. ”
“Neither did you,” Moira said. “You never once defended me against Isolde. ”
He stiffened.
“She never drugged you. ”
“No,” Moira said. “But she stole you from me on our wedding day, and you let her. ”
He didn’t deflect, just sat with it.
Then he nodded. “I shouldn’t have. I made a mistake. ”
“Yes,” Moira said.
“I want to fix it. I want to be there for you, for the child. ”
“No,” she said. “I will not abandon my vows with Raylan for you.
”
“Moira, listen to me—”
“You don’t love me,” she said evenly. “And I won’t disregard the vows I made to Raylan to settle your guilt for you. ”
He flinched. “That’s not—”
“You want to do the right thing,” she said.
“That’s honorable, but it isn’t love. It’s duty. ”
“The child is mine. It is my duty to look after him.
”
“Yes,” she said. “But we don’t need to be together for you to be part of his life. ”
“I want to be together. I mean it, Moira.
That day I was manipulated. ”
“But if you truly loved me,” she said gently, “you would not have left me at the altar. ”
He looked away. “She told you she was dying, and you ran to her without question.
You deserve to find someone you genuinely love. Someone you choose for no other reason than that you want to. ” She paused. “And I deserve more than being someone’s duty.
”
Jonan exhaled slowly, with the quality of something heavy being set down. “I’m sorry, Moira. For all of it. ”
“I know.
”
He looked at his brother’s still face. “He’s lucky,” Jonan said quietly. “My brother. ”
Moira went still.
She did not contradict it. —
Raylan woke slowly. Moira watched it happen, the way consciousness returned in stages. “What happened?
” Raylan asked, disoriented. “Are you all right? ”
He looked soft with sleep, beautiful. She was suddenly, devastatingly aware that she would like to wake next to him every morning.
The thought hurt. “I’m fine,” Moira said. “You were drugged. ”
“Drugged?
By who? ”
She was moving before she could think, her hands on his shoulders guiding him back against the pillow. “Isolde. I found you together.
She was trying to make it look as though something was happening between you—to make Jonan jealous. ”
The parallel hit her immediately, sharp and uncomfortable. In a way, she had been doing the same thing. Using Raylan to make Jonan jealous.
But she couldn’t do it anymore. “Thank you,” Raylan said quietly. “For what? ”
“For saving me,” he said simply, “and for staying.
” He paused. “Did Jonan come by? ”
The way he asked it, controlled, trying not to show that the answer mattered, hit her in the chest. She understood what he was hoping for—that she was about to announce she was finally going back to Jonan, and he could be free.
“He did. He came to check on you. He was worried. ”
Raylan’s mouth twisted.
“And what else? ”
She looked at him—this man who had claimed her child without hesitation. She decided now was the time. Jessa clearly cared for him.
The woman had shown it with her protectiveness. If Raylan was released, he could finally be with her. “It’s sorted,” Moira said. “I’m so thankful for your help, for everything you’ve done, but the contract can end now.
”
Raylan froze. “Over? ” His voice was flat, controlled. “Yes.
Jonan and I talked. We’ve worked things out. He wants to be part of the child’s life. ”
The silence was enormous.
His jaw tightened. “So this is it, then? The contract is unnecessary now. I’m no longer of use to you.
”
“What? No,” Moira said quickly, shocked by his anger. “It isn’t like that. ”
“Then what is it like?
” His voice went harder. “You’re going back to him, aren’t you? ”
“No, I turned Jonan down. ”
His anger deflated.
“Why? Why would you turn down the father of your child? ”
“I’m releasing you from the contract,” Moira said. “You’ve been more than kind, and I will not be the reason you cannot follow your heart.
I won’t trap you the way Isolde tried to trap Jonan. ”
She walked toward the door. “Stop. ” Raylan’s voice cut through the room, rarer than she had ever heard it.
“Stop,” he said again. She paused, didn’t turn. She heard him move, his feet hitting the floor. His hand closed around her wrist.
“Don’t walk away from me,” Raylan said quietly. She turned slowly. His face was stripped, just him and the hazel eyes she had been learning to read for months. “I love you,” Raylan said.
She froze. “You what? ”
“Choose me,” he continued, his voice urgent and raw. “Stay, be with me.
”
She tried for composure and failed completely. “But what about Jessa? ”
“Jessa and I have never been together,” Raylan said. “There was never a plan to get her back.
We’re friends, that’s all. I made up the entire story to give you a reason to stay married to me that didn’t involve telling you the truth. ”
“What truth? ”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“I felt the mate bond the moment we met,” he said quietly. “Four years ago, at that diplomatic function. You ran. You avoided me.
And then you accepted Jonan’s betrothal. What was I supposed to do? ” His hand tightened on her wrist. “It shattered me, watching you plan a wedding to him.
So when Jonan didn’t show up at the altar, I saw my chance. I gave you a reason to marry me that had nothing to do with the bond. I made up the Jessa story so you would spend time with me. Give me a chance.
” His eyes found hers. “I love you. I have loved you for four years. And that child—” his free hand moved to her stomach.
“That child is mine because you’re mine. ”
Her chest felt too tight. “Say something,” Raylan said quietly. “Please.
Say anything. ”
Her composure broke. Not dramatically, just her breath shaking once, then again. “I felt it too,” she said, her voice unsteady.
“That pull. The wrongness when you weren’t near. I thought it was your charisma. I thought everyone felt it.
”
He let out a quiet breath that was almost a laugh. “I turned down your brother because I love you,” Moira said, her voice turning fierce. “Not because of a bond I didn’t know existed, but because of who you are. ”
“Say it again,” Raylan said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.
She lifted her chin, tears threatening. “I love you, Raylan. ”
He pulled her in. His eyes were bright, too bright.
“Good,” he said, his voice thick. “Because I’m never letting you go. ”
He kissed her. —
One year later, morning in the palace gardens felt different from court nights—quiet, honest, unperformed.
Moira sat on the stone bench beneath the old oak tree, watching her son grip her finger with determined seriousness. He was eight months old now, all chubby cheeks and fierce concentration. “He’s got a good grip,” Raylan said, crouching beside them. “Future warrior, this one.
”
The baby squealed, and Moira’s chest tightened with a warm, happy ache. She had never imagined this ease, this contentment. “Moira. ” She looked up.
Jonan stood on the garden path, no longer carrying the wounded pride he had worn for months. Just present. Part of their lives in a way that was careful but genuine. “Jonan,” she said, her voice kind.
He approached and knelt to the child’s level. “Hello, nephew. ” The word was clean, uncomplicated. Jonan accepting his place in the boy’s life—not as father, but as uncle—and being grateful just to be part of it.
The baby reached for him immediately. “He’s getting big. ”
“He’s eating constantly,” Moira said. “Takes after his father in that regard.
”
Raylan snorted. “Our son has excellent taste. ”
Jonan looked up at his brother, and something passed between them. Acknowledgement, respect, the particular understanding of men who had fought over the same woman and come out the other side as family.
“Your Majesty,” Jonan said. “Brother,” Raylan returned. Later, Raylan moved behind Moira with that prowling grace she had learned to love. His hands settled at her waist with familiar gentleness.
“You’re quiet today,” he murmured. She placed her hand over his. “I’m tired. ”
His grip tightened immediately.
“Do I need to call the healer? You’ve been more tired lately—”
“Raylan,” she laughed. “I’m not sick. ” He searched her face.
“But I am pregnant,” she said softly. “Again? ”
For a moment, Raylan looked stunned. Then his expression broke into pure, unguarded joy.
“Moira,” he breathed, pulling her close. Their son squealed between them, objecting to being squished. Raylan pulled back with a laugh and lifted the baby into his arms. “You’re going to be a big brother.
”
The baby grabbed his father’s nose and shrieked. Moira watched them—her family—and felt the quiet triumph of a life she never thought she’d be allowed to have. This wasn’t duty or arranged for politics. This was choice.
And most importantly, love.
