Elara Nightwind died on her knees.
Cold marble pressed into her skin, seeping through the thin fabric of her gown as blood pooled beneath her. The grand throne hall of the Northern Realm loomed above her, its towering obsidian pillars etched with ancient runes that glowed faintly red—symbols of judgment, power, and death.
Chains carved with silver sigils bound her wrists and ankles. They burned where they touched her skin, draining her magic, her strength, her very life. Each shallow breath felt like knives slicing into her lungs.
But none of it hurt as much as him.
Kael Blackthorn stood before her, tall and merciless in his Alpha King regalia. Black armor molded to his powerful frame, a crimson cloak falling from his shoulders like spilled blood. His silver eyes—once warm, once filled with devotion—now held nothing but frost.
Her mate.
Her husband.
Her executioner.
"Elara Nightwind," the High Elder announced, his voice echoing through the hall. "You stand accused of treason. Of conspiring with the Eastern Clans. Of leaking war strategies that led to the slaughter of over five thousand wolves."
A murmur rippled through the council.
Elara lifted her head with trembling effort. Blood slid from the corner of her lips, warm against her chin.
"I didn't do it," she said hoarsely. "Kael… you know I didn't."
The mate bond between them screamed inside her chest, raw and broken, tugging violently at her soul. Every instinct begged him to step forward, to shield her, to claim her innocence as he always had.
But he didn't move.
Kael's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as his grip on the ceremonial sword tightened. The blade shimmered with lethal enchantments—designed to kill even a queen.
"There is proof," he said coldly. "Your seal was found on the correspondence."
Her heart shattered.
"That seal was stolen," Elara whispered desperately. "I warned you months ago. I told you the council was plotting—"
"Enough." His voice cracked like thunder.
She flinched.
Behind him, the council elders exchanged satisfied glances. They had never accepted her. A low-born wolf from a fallen house had no place beside the Alpha King. Her rare lunar magic had made her useful—but never welcome.
She realized then.
This trial was never about justice.
It was about removing her.
"I gave you everything," Elara said softly, her voice breaking despite herself. "I gave up my freedom. My family. My power. I loved you more than my own life."
Kael's eyes flickered—just for a second.
Then they hardened.
"And that," he said, raising the sword, "is why your betrayal cuts deepest."
The blade descended.
Pain exploded through her chest, white-hot and merciless. She screamed as the sword pierced her heart, magic and blood erupting in a violent surge.
The mate bond shattered.
It felt like her soul was being torn in half.
Her scream echoed through the hall as darkness swallowed her whole.
Her last sight was Kael turning away.
She gasped.
Air slammed into her lungs violently as Elara jolted upright, her body drenched in sweat. Her hands flew to her chest, fingers digging into warm, unbroken skin.
No wound.
No blood.
No chains.
Her heart pounded wildly as she looked around in disbelief.
This wasn't the throne room.
This was a small stone chamber with pale walls and a cracked window. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, illuminating a simple wooden desk, an old wardrobe—
Her childhood bedroom.
"No…" she whispered.
She staggered out of bed, legs weak, and stumbled toward the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. Her reflection stared back at her with wide, terrified eyes.
Seventeen years old.
Unmarked.
Unmated.
Alive.
A sharp memory slammed into her mind, vivid and terrifying.
The Mate Ceremony. Three days away.
Her breath hitched.
She had gone back.
A bitter, broken laugh escaped her lips as she pressed a hand against her chest, where the mate bond should have been.
Silent.
Dormant.
But not gone.
"So this is fate's cruelty," she murmured. "You give me a second life… just to test me again?"
Images flooded her mind—Kael's smile when they first met, his promises whispered in the dark, the way he had sworn to protect her from the council.
All lies.
Or perhaps… all weakness.
Her expression hardened.
This time, she would not be naive.
She would not sacrifice herself for love.
She would not kneel for a throne that would one day kill her.
If Kael Blackthorn wanted a queen, he would have to earn her.
If the council wanted her dead, she would make them bleed first.
And if fate still insisted on binding her to the man who had killed her—
Then she would rewrite fate itself.
Outside, the moon glowed bright and full.
Unbeknownst to her, far away in the royal palace, Alpha King Kael Blackthorn bolted upright in his bed, clutching his chest as pain unlike any he had ever known ripped through him.
Somewhere deep in his soul, something had changed.
And for the first time since her execution…
Elara Nightwind's name burned on his lips.