The Great Hall's heavy doors slammed shut, but the cold finality of Maeve's order echoed louder than the wood. Three sunrises. The time Allister had left to formally reject his destined bond and choose Celeste was now measured in agonizing hours.
He marched Sunflower back down the hallway, the leather strap still loose on her wrists. The atmosphere had changed; they were no longer walking past a few confused guards. Now, curious pack members from the kitchens, the army, and the offices lined the route, drawn out by the news of the mixed-blood and the public order.
Allister felt every eye on him, every wolf questioning his resolve. The air, heavy with his own shame, was cut through by the constant, electrical scent of Sunflower his forbidden attachment. He could practically feel the entire pack silently asking: Why does the Alpha protect the problem?
He gripped her arm tighter, not to control her, but to keep himself steady.
They reached the private wing. As Allister fumbled with the key to his section, Celeste stepped out from her guard post, a perfect, vicious smile on her lips. Her eyes, usually just sharp, now held a cool, victorious shine.
"Alpha Allister," she said, her voice full of false sympathy and respect. "I am so relieved the Elders made such a quick, wise decision. Three sunrises. It is an honor to know that the Silverwood family line will be secured with such certainty."
Her words were a ribbon soaked in poison. She hadn't mentioned her own name, but the meaning was a bold statement of victory.
"Your dedication is noted, Celeste," Allister replied, his voice a low, warning growl. "Return to your post. Do not speak to the prisoner."
He shoved Sunflower past the barrier and into his hallway, locking the door behind them and blocking Celeste's irritating presence.
He didn't bother with the interrogation room right away. He simply released Sunflower's wrist in the center of his large, quiet room, then sank onto the edge of his bed, completely defeated.
The silence was heavier than any conversation. Sunflower stood perfectly still, watching him. She didn't boast, she didn't joke, she simply let the crushing weight of the reality settle upon them both.
The broken bond, now free from the mental noise of the Elder's Hall, began to hum with a new, devastating rhythm. It wasn't desire, and it wasn't the pain of the forced command. It was a wave of synchronized panic a pure, shared terror of the coming deadline. Allister felt his own dread instantly reflected by hers, and her fear was instantly made bigger by his. The cycle of fear was crippling. His heart rate tripled, not from effort, but from the sudden, overwhelming feeling of two minds in total panic.
He put his head in his hands, clenching his teeth. "Stop it," he whispered, his voice rough. "Stop… feeling."
Sunflower, leaning against the cold stone of the wall, shook her head slowly. "I'm not doing anything, Alpha. You are. And I'm feeling it. It's a very loud, ugly sound in my head, Allister. It says: I am going to destroy you to save myself."
Allister snapped. He surged off the bed, walking the room in three frantic steps.
"You don't understand!" he bit out, his control finally breaking. "You think Maeve is just an old woman? She commands the loyalty of three of those council members. She controls the pack's history books. She holds the true legal power. My father… the Alpha before me defied her once, over a small trading post. Within a month, he was challenged for the Alpha title and lost. She has never lost a political fight."
He turned to face her, the desperation clear in his eyes. "This order is not a suggestion. It's a command. By forcing the decision now, she makes sure that when the pack splits over the mixed-blood issue, I will be connected to a pure-blood partner who can help her maintain control. You are leverage, Sunflower. And that bond between us… it's a weakness."
He ran a hand through his hair, a sign of pure, agonizing helplessness. "She will not stop. If I reject Celeste, or delay the decision, she will execute you immediately, and then she will challenge my authority. I cannot save you."
The confession hung in the air, heavy and total. Allister, the strong, rigid Alpha, had just admitted his powerlessness to his hostage.
Sunflower pushed off the wall and walked slowly toward him. She stopped just out of easy reach, her purple eye dark with unexpected understanding.
"Oh, I think I understand perfectly, Allister," she said, her tone dangerously calm, stripped of its mocking wit. "Political leverage. I know that idea. That's what I was running from, in case your broken brain missed that part."
She pointed toward the locked door to her temporary room. "That wall you were picking at, Alpha? It's not just a boundary marker. It's a secret entrance to the oldest tunnel network in this region. My grandmother didn't hide a map; she was trying to open a way for me to escape."
She looked directly into his storm-colored eyes, her purple and gold a sharp, beautiful contrast. "You're not the only one here with ancient political problems. Whatever they are running from, whatever my mixed-blood family is, it is powerful enough that ancient Elder Councils still fear it. And if you think three sunrises is a tough deadline, try spending your entire life with a target painted on your back."
She had matched his fear with her own, deeper history. In that moment of shared, exposed vulnerability, the frantic buzz of the broken bond softened, settling into a low, steady beat. It was the sound of two souls sharing a secret burden, a painful whisper of trust.
Allister stared at her, the truth of her words her endless, calculated fight for survival hitting him with the force of a physical blow. He wasn't dealing with a simple captive; he was dealing with a fugitive princess, and he had just guaranteed her death sentence.
"What are you going to do?" Sunflower asked, her voice quiet.
Allister had no answer. The only certainty was that in three sunrises, he would be making a choice that would doom one of them. He slowly backed away, walking to his own sleeping area, but stopping just short of his bed.
"You will go into your room," he commanded, the authority flat and fragile. "And you will stay silent. I need to think."
Sunflower watched him, then gave a small, defeated shrug and walked into the adjoining room without a word.
Allister stood in the middle of his quarters, listening. The scent of her was all over his room now. He didn't sleep. He stood guard, not against her escape, but against the relentless passing of time that was counting down to his own destruction.