POV EMMA BELLE
The morning light that filtered through the narrow windows of the Black Crag was a pale, crystalline silver, reflecting off the fresh snow outside. But inside the solar, the air was warm—thick with the scent of the hearth and the lingering, electric hum of the bond I had shared with Félix through the night.
I didn't want to leave the room. Every time my skin brushed against the silk sheets, I was reminded of the way his hands had felt on my waist, the way his lips had made a silent vow against my neck. But the world outside was still screaming for its Queen, and I had four kings waiting for me.
When I finally entered the great hall, the atmosphere was a mix of tactical intensity and a strange, simmering domesticity. Nathaniel was standing by a long oak table covered in maps, his fingers tracing the trade routes of the North. Damon was by the fireplace, sharpening his massive axe with a rhythmic shrr-shrr that vibrated in the floorboards.
And then there was Félix.
He was sitting on top of the table—completely ignoring the maps—tossing a small apple into the air and catching it. When he saw me, his entire face transformed. The cocky, rebel mask fell away, replaced by that wide, hoyuelo-filled grin that made my knees feel like they were made of mist.
"Good morning, Little Bird," he chirped, his green eyes dancing with the memory of the night. "I was starting to think you'd decided to hibernate until spring."
I couldn't help it. A genuine, bubbly laugh escaped my throat—a sound that felt foreign in this fortress of obsidian and war. "Maybe I did, Lixie. Some of us actually need sleep after saving the world."
The hall went silent.
The sound of Damon's sharpening stone stopped mid-stroke. Nathaniel's fingers froze on the map. Even the shadows in the corner of the room seemed to stiffen. I felt my cheeks heat up; I hadn't realized I'd used the nickname in front of them. It felt so natural, so private, that hearing it echo in the cold hall made me feel exposed.
A low, melodic sound broke the silence. It wasn't a growl or a sigh. It was a laugh.
I turned toward the corner, and for the first time, I saw Vincent step fully out of the shadows. He wasn't wearing his usual armor; he was in a simple black tunic, his dark hair falling over his eyes. He was looking at us—at the way Félix was staring at me with pure, unadulterated adoration, and the way I was smiling back—and he was laughing. It was a soft, dry sound, like wind through dead leaves, but it was unmistakably amused.
"What's so funny, Vincent?" Damon growled, his golden eyes flashing with a territorial fire as he looked from me to Félix.
Vincent walked toward the table, his gaze fixed on me. "The threads," he whispered, his voice resonating with a strange, mystical weight. "I told you, Damon. I told you, Nathaniel. You can build the walls, and you can write the laws, but you can't fight the rhythm of the heart."
He looked at Félix, then back at me. "Three of the most feared Alphas in the history of the North. One is a god of war, one is a master of the mind, and I am the king of secrets. And yet..." Vincent paused, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Only the rebel gets a name. Only the boy with the freckles gets the Queen to laugh."
Félix puffed out his chest, looking immensely proud of himself. "Jealousy is a bad look on you, Shadow-man. Maybe if you tried being charming instead of lurking in the drapes, you'd get a nickname too."
"I don't think 'Vinnie' has the same ring to it," I teased, feeling a strange surge of playfulness.
Vincent let out another short laugh, bowing his head slightly. "I think I'll pass on the nicknames, Emma Belle. But I find the irony delicious. The Council spent twenty years trying to suppress your wolf, thinking you would be a puppet. And instead, you've become a mirror. You reflect the strength of Damon, the logic of Nathaniel, and my darkness... but with Félix? You reflect joy."
Damon stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the stone. He walked over to me, his sheer size casting a long shadow. He didn't look at Félix. He looked directly into my eyes, searching for something. He reached out, his hand hovering near my neck before he stopped himself.
"The bond we have is for the North, Emma," Damon said, his voice a deep, vibrating rumble. "I accept that. I accept that he is the one who grounds you. But don't think for a second that my fire for you is any less than his wind."
"We know our places, Damon," Nathaniel added, though his silver eyes were focused on the mark on my neck—the one Félix had promised to seal. "Félix is the emotional anchor. But as the White Queen, you are the bridge between us all. We are your harem, your guardians. Whether we have nicknames or not is irrelevant to the crown."
"Speak for yourself, Nate," Félix smirked, jumping down from the table. He walked over and slid his arm around my waist, pulling me against his side with a casual possessiveness that made Damon's jaw clench. "I like my status just fine."
I looked at the four of them. It was a strange, beautiful, and terrifying dynamic. I felt the physical pull of Damon, the intellectual respect for Nathaniel, and the deep, soulful curiosity about Vincent. But Félix... Félix was the air I breathed.
"I need you all," I said, my voice steady. "The Council is regrouping. Caleb is probably begging for more warriors as we speak. We can't afford to let these... tensions... divide us."
"They won't," Vincent said, his expression turning serious again. "But Emma, you must understand why the others feel this way. In the history of our kind, the White Queen usually divides her heart equally to keep the balance. You... you are shifting the weight to the side of the rebel."
"Because he's the only one who doesn't look at me and see a throne!" I countered, my power flaring slightly, the violet light shimmering around my feet. "He looks at me and sees Emma."
Félix squeezed my waist, his green eyes soft and full of that secret promise he'd made in the solar. Only I get to mark you.
The realization of that secret made my heart race. I knew that the other three could feel the shift in the energy. They knew that while I would rule with them, and perhaps even share their beds one day to strengthen the kingdom, the "True Mark"—the one that soul-locked a wolf to their mate—would belong to Félix alone.
"We have work to do," Nathaniel said, sensing the emotional threshold we were about to cross. He pointed to the map. "The Eclipse Pack has moved their main encampment to the Whispering Ridge. It's a tactical blunder. They think the terrain will protect them from a frontal assault, but they aren't expecting a Queen who can manipulate the kinetic energy of the mountain itself."
"Then we don't give them a frontal assault," I said, moving to the table, though I didn't pull away from Félix. "We give them a collapse."
As we spent the next few hours planning, the atmosphere shifted. The jealousy didn't disappear, but it was channeled into a lethal focus. I watched them—Damon's raw power, Nathaniel's brilliant strategy, Vincent's insights into the enemy's movements, and Félix... Félix was the glue. He was the one who kept the mood from turning too dark, the one who made me smile when the weight of the war felt too heavy.
Later, when the meeting broke and the others went to prepare the warriors, Félix and I found a moment of silence in the training courtyard. The sun was higher now, turning the snow into a field of diamonds.
"They know, don't they?" I asked, looking at the distant peaks.
"They know," Félix said, leaning against the wall beside me. He took my hand, his fingers interlaced with mine. "Damon hates it. Nathaniel is trying to rationalize it. And Vincent? Vincent just thinks it's a good story."
He turned to face me, his green eyes serious for once. "But it doesn't change what I told you last night, Emma. The Mark... it's a sacred thing. The others will be your Kings. They will be your lovers, if you choose them. But I am the only one who will ever be your Mate. My soul is the only one that can latch onto yours without shattering the Queen's light."
I looked at him, feeling my wolf pacing in my chest, her hunger for him growing with every second. "Why only you, Lixie?"
"Because you were an Omega when I found you," he whispered, stepping closer until our noses were touching. "And I was a rebel. We didn't come to this with titles or expectations. We came to it with nothing but our own broken pieces. The Moon doesn't mark crowns, Little Bird. She marks hearts."
He leaned in and kissed me—a slow, deep taste of the future he was promising. It wasn't a kiss for a Queen. It was a kiss for Emma.
When he pulled away, he winked at me, the dimplesreturning. "Now, let's go show your ex-mate why he should have stayed in bed today. I've got a nickname to protect, after all."
I laughed, the sound echoing through the courtyard, and for a moment, the war felt like a distant dream. I was the White Queen, and I had four kings at my side. But as I watched the boy with the freckles and the golden-blonde hair walk away to grab his bow, I knew that no matter how many battles we fought, my heart would always find its way back to the rebel who called me his Little Bird.
"Wait for me, Lixie!" I called out, my violet light flaring as I ran to catch up.
The war for the crown had officially become a war for our future. And I wasn't going to lose a single second of it.