Kieran's POV
I watch Isla stand in the center of the ceremonial circle, wearing the crown that makes her look every inch a queen, and all I can think is: This is my fault.
If I'd been stronger, braver, less of a coward—maybe she wouldn't be here facing five ancient Council members who look at her like she's a problem to be solved rather than a person to be protected.
"The trials will test three things," Elder Morgana announces, her voice echoing across the gathered packs. "Blood, mind, and heart. Fail any trial, and the crown passes to the Council's chosen heir."
"And I die," Isla says flatly. Not a question.
Morgana's smile is cold. "Pretenders to the throne don't deserve mercy, child."
Child. Like Isla isn't standing there having defeated my father in single combat yesterday. Like she isn't radiating more power than most Alphas achieve in a lifetime.
The Council sees what they want to see: a teenage girl playing dress-up.
They have no idea what she's survived to get here.
Roman stands beside me at the edge of the circle, his jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grinding. "This is wrong," he mutters. "She just became queen yesterday. They should give her time to prepare, not throw her into trials designed to kill her."
"The Council doesn't want her to succeed," I realize with cold certainty. "They want her to fail so they can install someone they control."
"Your father," Roman guesses.
I nod grimly. Despite his defeat, despite his crimes, my father still has allies on the Council. Old wolves who prefer corruption they understand over change they can't control.
"The first trial begins," Elder Morgana announces. "The Trial of Blood."
The ground beneath Isla's feet starts to glow with ancient runes—magic older than any living wolf. Isla gasps as red light wraps around her body like chains.
"What's happening?" she cries out, struggling against the magic.
"The Trial of Blood tests whether royal magic truly flows through your veins," Morgana explains, almost bored. "If you're the true heir, the magic will recognize you. If not..." She shrugs. "The magic will consume you from the inside out. Most pretenders last about thirty seconds before they start screaming."
Horror floods through me. "You're torturing her!"
"We're testing her," another Elder corrects. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" Roman snarls. "Because from here, it looks like you're trying to murder a teenage girl!"
The Elders ignore us, watching Isla with clinical interest as the red light grows brighter, more intense.
Isla falls to her knees, her face twisted in agony. The crown on her head glows in response, fighting the blood magic, but I can see it's not enough. The trial is overwhelming her.
Do something, my wolf howls. Our mate is dying!
But there's nothing I can do. The ceremonial circle is protected by magic that prevents anyone from interfering. All I can do is watch and pray.
"Forty-five seconds," an Elder notes. "Impressive. Most pretenders are dead by now."
"She's not a pretender!" I roar, slamming against the invisible barrier. "She's the rightful queen! Her parents were—"
"Were murdered traitors," Morgana interrupts coldly. "At least, that's what the official records say. Records your father provided, Alpha Kieran."
My blood runs cold. "You know those records are lies."
"Do we?" Morgana's smile is poison. "Or are we simply following the documentation provided by the current ruling Alpha? Your father claims the throne through right of conquest. The girl claims it through blood. Let the magic decide who's telling the truth."
Inside the circle, Isla screams. Blood runs from her nose, her ears. The magic is literally tearing her apart trying to verify her bloodline.
And I'm helpless to stop it.
"One minute," an Elder announces. "The girl is strong, I'll give her that."
"She's dying!" Roman shouts. "Stop this! You've made your point!"
"The trial stops when the magic decides," Morgana says. "Not before."
I look at Isla—my mate, the girl I destroyed, the queen trying so desperately to survive—and something breaks inside me.
"Stop the trial," I hear myself say.
Everyone turns to stare at me.
"I said stop the trial," I repeat, louder. "I invoke Alpha Right of Substitution."
Morgana's eyes narrow. "You can't be serious."
"What's he doing?" Roman demands.
"Alpha Right of Substitution is an ancient law," another Elder explains. "Any Alpha can choose to take a trial in place of the one being tested. The magic transfers to them instead."
"But if the magic rejects him—" Roman's face goes pale. "Kieran, no. You can't."
"I can and I will." I meet Morgana's gaze steadily. "Isla is the true heir. I'll prove it by taking her place. If the magic accepts me as her mate, it proves she's royal. If it kills me..." I shrug. "Then I die knowing I finally did something right."
"You're not her mate," Morgana says. "She rejected you. Everyone knows this."
"The rejection was never completed," I counter. "I never accepted it. Which means the bond still exists, even if it's damaged. And if any part of me carries her mark, the blood magic will recognize it."
It's a gamble. A stupid, desperate gamble based on hope and guilt and the desperate need to save her.
But I'm done standing on the sidelines while Isla suffers for crimes I helped commit.
"Very well," Morgana says, looking pleased. "The substitution is accepted. Guard, release the girl. Bring him forward."
The red light releases Isla, and she collapses, gasping and crying. Roman rushes to her side while guards drag me into the circle.
"Kieran, don't!" Isla's voice is raw. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do." I meet her golden eyes across the distance. "You're the queen this kingdom needs. I'm just the fool who almost destroyed you. Let me do this one thing right."
The guards chain me in place where Isla was standing. The runes glow brighter, eager for fresh blood to test.
"Begin," Morgana commands.
Pain explodes through my body.
It's like being burned alive from the inside out. The magic tears through my veins, searching for any trace of royal blood, any connection to the throne.
And finds nothing.
Because I'm not royal. I'm just the son of a murderer and a tyrant, raised to be a weapon, taught to break the one person I should have protected.
We're going to die, my wolf realizes. The magic is killing us.
But then, through the agony, I feel something else. A golden thread, thin and damaged but still there.
The mate bond.
It's nearly destroyed from Isla's rejection, barely more than a whisper. But it exists.
And through that thread, I feel her. Her pain. Her power. Her royal bloodline flowing like liquid gold through veins I'm connected to by fate.
Hold on, Isla's voice whispers through the bond. Kieran, hold on. I'm here.
The blood magic follows the thread, finds Isla through me, and recognizes truth.
This boy is connected to the queen. This boy carries her mark, however faint.
Therefore, this boy lives.
The red light explodes outward in a wave of pure power, and I'm thrown backward, smoking and gasping but alive.
"Impossible," Morgana breathes. "The rejected mate bond shouldn't have been strong enough to—"
"But it was," I cough, struggling to my feet. Blood runs from dozens of small wounds, but I'm not dead. "Which proves Isla is exactly who she says she is. The true queen. The rightful heir. Unless you want to argue with ancient magic?"
The Elders exchange looks. They can't deny what everyone just witnessed.
"The Trial of Blood is complete," another Elder announces reluctantly. "The claimant is verified as royal bloodline. She may proceed to the second trial."
Relief floods through me, and I stumble toward Isla. She meets me halfway, and for a moment—just a moment—I think she might actually embrace me.
Instead, she punches me in the shoulder. Hard.
"Don't EVER do that again!" she shouts, tears streaming down her face. "You could have died!"
"Better me than you," I say simply.
"That's not your choice to make!" She's crying and angry and beautiful, and my wolf whimpers at how close we came to losing her forever. "I rejected you, remember? You're not supposed to care whether I live or die!"
"I'll always care," I tell her quietly. "Rejected bond or not. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve your forgiveness, even if I never get it."
Isla stares at me, emotions warring across her face. Then Roman appears, gently pulling her back.
"The next trial is about to begin," Roman says, his eyes on me filled with something between respect and resentment. "You should rest, Blackthorn. You look like death."
"I feel like death," I admit. "But I'm staying. I'm seeing this through."
Isla opens her mouth to argue, but Elder Morgana speaks first:
"The second trial begins now. The Trial of Mind."
The runes shift from red to silver. The air grows heavy with different magic—not blood magic, but something worse.
Mind magic. The kind that breaks people from the inside out.
"This trial tests whether you have the mental strength to rule," Morgana explains. "You'll face your greatest fears, your deepest regrets, your darkest memories. The magic will show you everything you've tried to forget. Everything you've buried."
"For how long?" Isla asks, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.
Morgana's smile is cruel. "Until you break. Or until you prove you can't be broken."
"That's not an answer," Roman protests.
"It's the only answer you'll get." Morgana waves her hand, and the silver magic wraps around Isla like smoke. "Begin."
Isla's eyes glaze over immediately. Her face twists in horror, seeing something the rest of us can't.
And she starts screaming.
Not from pain. From something worse.
From memory.
"What's it showing her?" I demand, trying to break into the circle again.
"Everything," an Elder says. "Every moment of abuse. Every cruel word. Every time she was made to feel worthless. The magic takes all of it and forces her to relive it. Over and over. Until her mind either breaks or accepts it."
"That's torture!" Roman roars.
"That's ruling," Morgana corrects. "A queen must face her past without flinching. Otherwise, she's too weak to lead."
Inside the silver smoke, Isla screams again. And I realize with horror what memory the magic is probably showing her right now.
Me. My cruelty. Every awful thing I ever said or did to her.
The Trial of Mind is forcing her to relive the worst moments of her life.
And I'm probably in most of them.