"Wait!"
The word slipped out of Aveloria's mouth before she could think. It came out raw, desperate, sharper than she intended.
Lucien had already started to walk away into the forest, his steps light and silent like a shadow. He paused at her voice, one hand still on the hilt of his sword, the other brushing a leaf from his shoulder. When he turned, she tried to read his calm, unreadable expression, but something in his eyes softened.
She took a few hesitant steps toward him. "You saved my life. I should thank you properly with something worthy."
Lucien gave a small, crooked smile. "You already tried. Remember? You said you didn't need saving."
"I didn't mean it like that."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "You sure?"
Aveloria frowned slightly but didn't argue. She didn't want him to leave. Something about him, the ease in his movements, the unbothered way he spoke, calmed the noise in her head. Her world had been a tangle of politics, mates, gossip, and danger for days. And now here he was, a rogue with a sharp tongue and no sense of etiquette, making her forget all of it briefly.
"Stay," she said quietly. "Just for a bit."
Lucien studied her for a long second, his expression unreadable. "You really don't like taking no for an answer, do you?"
"Not when I have questions."
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "Fine. But not here." His gaze flicked around the thick forest. "This place stinks of Wanderer blood. We'll find somewhere quieter."
She hesitated only a moment before nodding.
Lucien led the way, and Aveloria followed, holding her horse by the reins. They walked silently for a while, the only sounds being the crunch of leaves beneath their boots and the distant call of a hawk. The deeper they went, the clearer the air became, cooler and lighter, carrying the faint scent of pine and wildflowers.
They crossed a small stream, the water glittering under the sun, and then climbed a slope that led to a ridge overlooking the valley.
It was quiet up there, but also breathtakingly beautiful. The Bitterlands stretched out behind them, dark and wild, but ahead, the land rose toward the mountains, green and alive.
Lucien stopped beside a fallen log and sat, motioning for her to do the same.
"Better?" he asked.
Aveloria nodded, her chest loosening a little. "Yes."
He smirked. "Good. Because you looked like you were going to faint back there."
"I wasn't," she said, but her voice betrayed a small laugh.
For a while, they just sat, two strangers who shouldn't have been sitting together at all. The wind brushed her hair across her face. Lucien leaned back on his elbows, watching the horizon with an ease she envied.
"You always talk to rogues?" he asked after a moment.
"Only the ones who decapitate Wanderers," she said.
He chuckled. "So I'm a rare one, then."
"Very," she said, her tone half serious. "Most rogues don't step this close to the Kingdom's borders."
"I'm not most rogues."
"I've noticed."
There was a quiet between them again, comfortable this time. Aveloria looked down at her hands, tracing the edge of her dagger's hilt. "Do you live out here?"
"Sometimes. I move around a lot."
"Because of the Wanderers?"
He tilted his head. "Because of everyone. Wolves don't like rogues. Rogues don't trust each other. Wanderers…they don't trust anything living."
"That sounds lonely."
Lucien gave a slight shrug. "It is. But it's simple. No politics, no pretending. No one is trying to control you."
Aveloria stared ahead. "You sound like you hate the idea of belonging somewhere."
He gave her a look. "Don't you?"
She didn't answer immediately. "I used to think belonging was everything. If I could prove myself, shift like everyone else, be the daughter everyone expected, then I'd finally feel…enough."
Lucien's gaze lingered on her, thoughtful. "And did you?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. The more I tried, the less I recognized myself."
He hummed quietly, turning his eyes back to the mountains. "That's how they get you. They make you believe you need their approval. You don't."
Aveloria studied him. "You talk like someone who's been betrayed."
Lucien smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Everyone's been betrayed by someone. The difference is whether you survive it."
The air between them thickened, not uncomfortable, but heavy with something unspoken. She wanted to ask more, but didn't. Instead, she watched how his fingers idly brushed a blade of grass, the small scar near his wrist, the ease with which he seemed to carry pain.
After a while, Lucien stood and offered his hand. "Come on. There's a spot higher up. You'll like it."
She took his hand without thinking. His grip was warm, firm, but gentle.
They climbed together, following a narrow path that wound through tall rocks until they reached a ledge that opened to a vast view of the mountains. The wind up there was cold and clean. From this height, Aveloria could see the thread of rivers below and the little shimmer of moonlight beginning to touch the peaks.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
Lucien glanced at her, his lips quirking. "Told you."
They stayed there until night fell slowly and quietly. Lucien built a small fire using dry twigs, the flames crackling softly. Aveloria sat across from him, her knees drawn up, the firelight reflecting in her eyes.
He broke the silence first. "You don't seem afraid of me."
"I should be?" she asked.
He smirked. "I'm a rogue. You're the future Queen of Lycanthria. I've broken every law that keeps your kind comfortable."
"Maybe comfort isn't what I want," she said softly.
Lucien's eyes flickered with something she couldn't read. "Careful, Heiress. Words like that can get dangerous."
"Everything's dangerous lately," she replied.
He gave a low laugh. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that."
Aveloria smiled, then looked at him more closely. The shadows danced across his face, strong jaw, steady eyes, a trace of exhaustion beneath the confidence.
"Why did you help me?" she asked suddenly. "You could've just walked away."
Lucien poked at the fire with a stick. "Maybe I didn't like watching someone die."
"That's not an answer."
He paused. "Fine. You reminded me of someone I used to know."
"Who?"
He looked up, his expression closing off slightly. "Doesn't matter. She's gone."
The way he said it told her not to push further, but it stayed with her, that flicker of vulnerability buried under the rough edges.
The night deepened, and the fire burned lower. They sat in silence again, and for the first time in a long while, Aveloria didn't feel tense or watchful, just present.
When she finally looked up, the full moon had risen above the mountain ridge, glowing bright and heavy. Her breath caught slightly. The bond inside her, the one that always pulsed faintly since the Festival stirred. But this was different. Stronger. Wilder.
Lucien turned to her, his eyes almost glowing. He frowned, then blinked, as if trying to steady himself.
"Do you feel that?" she whispered.
He swallowed hard. "Yeah."
The air around them seemed to shift, not magic, but something ancient, primal. Aveloria's heartbeat quickened. She didn't understand how it could happen again, not after everything. But the pull was undeniable. It felt fierce and warm, threading through her veins.
Lucien stood slowly, his breathing uneven. "No. This can't be—"
But it was already there between them, pulsing stronger by the second.
Aveloria rose too, her hands trembling. "You feel it too, don't you?"
He nodded once, a flicker of awe in his voice. "You're my mate."
The words hung in the night like a secret the world had held back.
Lucien stepped closer, his hand lifting toward her cheek before he stopped himself. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, half to himself. "The Heiress? Out of every wolf in this cursed land…"
Aveloria let out a shaky breath, torn between disbelief and the ache of recognition that spread through her chest. "I didn't ask for this either."
He let out a low laugh, though his voice was rough. "Fate's got a twisted sense of humor."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was charged, thick with the weight of something bigger than both. Lucien's eyes softened, and for the first time, the guarded mask slipped.
"You don't deserve this kind of bond," he said quietly. "Not with someone like me."
"Don't decide that for me."
He looked at her for a long moment, then gave in. His hand brushed her face, slow and uncertain. The warmth of his skin against hers made her pulse stutter. Aveloria leaned into his touch. Like he was being controlled, he pulled her closer until their lips met.
When he kissed her, it wasn't rushed. It was hesitant at first, searching, then deep. The kind of kiss that made the world go still for a heartbeat. The bond flared through her chest, powerful and intoxicating, making her forget every reason she should pull away.
The air between them was heavy and dangerous. The kiss became hard, hungry, and desperate. She tasted the heat of him, the raw edge of restraint breaking apart as his large hand found her waist, dragging her even closer until there was no space left. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, answering a need she didn't recognize until now.
He groaned against her lips, a low growl that sent shivers down her spine, and she kissed him back with equal fire, matching his rhythm and hunger. Their breaths tangle, shallow and uneven. His large hand grabbed her neck, tilting her head up as he deepened the kiss, causing her pulse to race beneath his touch and her body to ache for his.
When they finally parted, Aveloria's breath trembled. Their foreheads rested together, breathing ragged and lips swollen. Neither spoke. Words would have ruined it, that wild, reckless pull that said they were already too far gone.
She looked at him, the rogue who had saved her, the one who shouldn't have been hers, and for a moment, everything made sense.
But the guilt came next to the reality.
She stepped back, her heart racing. "Lucien…I have to tell you something."
His expression shifted. "What is it?"
"There are others."
"Others?"
"Mates," she said quietly. "Three."
Lucien froze. "You're serious?"
She nodded. "I didn't choose them. It just happened."
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I thought those were just rumors. No one believed it."
"I wish they were."
Lucien's jaw tightened, but he laughed softly, shaking his head. "Of course. The Moon gives me a mate; she already has three others. That sounds about right for my luck."
Aveloria swallowed, guilt pressing at her chest. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
He looked at her again, calmer this time. "Neither did I."
They stood in silence, the fire crackling softly behind them.
Lucien finally said, "You don't belong to them. You could come with me. Please leave all of it, the palace, the titles, the expectations. We could disappear." His voice was low, rough, but honest.
For a heartbeat, she imagined it: freedom, peace, the world beyond the mountains. No politics, no betrayal, no endless duty. Just them.
But she saw her sisters' faces. Her father. Her brother. Her kingdom. The blood that had stained her first life.
"I can't," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I still have things to fix. People to protect."
Lucien's expression hardened, not with anger, but with resignation. "Then that cage of yours will eat you alive."
"Come with me," she said. "Help me. Please."
He shook his head. "The Kingdom doesn't want rogues, Aveloria. And rogues like me don't survive long behind palace walls."
She stepped closer. "You'd survive anywhere."
He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Flattery won't change my answer."
He withdrew from her completely and looked back at the fireplace. Silence reigned for the longest time since they had met.
When the first light of dawn started to creep over the ridge, Lucien tapped her softly, looking straight into her eyes. "I have to leave now. A new land awaits me."
"Lucien—"
"The Wanderers are coming for you, Heiress," he said quietly. "And not even your crown will save you when they do."
Aveloria's heart clenched. "Then what will?"
He looked at her for a long moment, then said, "Learning who to trust."
And with that, he turned and walked away, vanishing into the forest before she could say another word.
Aveloria stood there long after he was gone, the morning light spilling across the mountains, her heart aching with something she couldn't name, part longing, part fear, part destiny.
She had four mates now. Four paths tangled around one soul. And she didn't know which would save or destroy her first.