Chapter 2 The Weight of the Crown

The walk back from the bridge felt like a march to the gallows. My boots, once light and sure-footed on the frost-covered gravel, now felt like they were cast in lead. Every step away from the center of the bridge was a step further into a future I had not authorized, a life that had been traded away for a peace treaty written in my own blood.

I could still feel the phantom pressure of Killian Blackwood's hand on my wrist. The spot where his skin had touched mine was humming, a low-frequency vibration that seemed to have bypassed my skin and settled directly into my marrow. It was an alien heat, a dark and heavy energy that clashed with the cool, calculated calm of the Silver River blood in my veins.

"Lyra, slow down," my father commanded.

I didn't stop. I didn't even turn around. I pushed through the heavy, bioluminescent ferns that guarded the entrance to our territory. The glowing plants pulsed with a soft, blue light that usually brought me peace, but tonight, they looked like the cold eyes of ghosts.

"Lyra!"

Alpha Silas caught my shoulder. I spun around, my white hair whipping across my face like a silken shroud. My chest was heaving, not from the climb, but from the suffocating weight of the words he had spoken on that bridge.

"A bride?" I hissed, my voice cracking. "You didn't just sign a treaty, Father. You sold me. You handed the heir to the Silver River over to the man who slaughtered our southern scouts last winter. You gave me to a butcher."

"I gave you to a husband who can protect you when I am gone!" Silas roared back, his voice echoing off the canyon walls. He looked tired. The moonlight caught the deep lines of exhaustion carved into his face. He wasn't the invincible Alpha I had idolized as a child; he was a man holding onto a crumbling empire with bleeding fingers.

"I can protect myself," I said, my hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of the daggers strapped to my thighs. "I have spent nineteen years training for the day I would lead this pack. I didn't train to be a trophy wife for a Blood Moon Alpha."

"You were trained to be a leader, Lyra. And a leader knows that sometimes, the greatest sacrifice isn't made on the battlefield. It is made in the council chambers," he said, his voice softening. He reached out to touch my face, but I flinched away.

The silence that followed was sharp. Behind us, the Silver River guards hovered like shadows, their faces pale and uncertain. Among them, Kael stood like a statue carved from ice. His hand was clenched so tightly around the grip of his rifle that his knuckles were stark white against his tanned skin.

"The convoy leaves for the palace in ten minutes," Silas said, his eyes dropping to the ground. "Prepare yourself. We have a gala to host, and your fiancé will be arriving shortly to begin the formal transition."

The word fiancé tasted like poison in my mouth.

I turned and sprinted toward the palace. The Silver River Citadel was a marvel of modern architecture-all glass, white stone, and seamless technology. It was built into the side of a shimmering waterfall, a fortress of light designed to repel the darkness of the woods. But as I ran through the corridors, the familiar scent of ozone and lilies felt like a cage.

I reached my private quarters and slammed the door, the biometric lock clicking into place with a clinical beep. I leaned my back against the cold glass, sliding down until my knees hit the floor.

Mate.

The word was still there, a treasonous whisper from my wolf, Selene. She was pacing at the edge of my consciousness, her silver-white fur bristling with a terrifying excitement. She didn't care about the war. She didn't care about the thousands of lives lost over a century of pride. She only cared about the cedar and chocolate scent of the male on the bridge.

"Shut up," I whispered, clutching my head. "He is the enemy. He is the darkness we were built to fight."

A soft chime sounded at the door. "Lyra? It's me."

I took a deep breath, smoothing my hair and standing up. I couldn't let anyone see the cracks. "Enter, Maya."

Maya stepped into the room, her face a mask of worry. She was my closest friend and the pack's lead healer, a woman who had spent more time stitching me back together than anyone else. She was carrying a garment bag made of shimmering silver silk.

"I heard," she said quietly. She laid the bag on my bed. "The whole palace knows. The gossip is moving faster than a rogue on a scent trail."

"It's a nightmare, Maya," I said, walking over to the window. Below, I could see the palace gardens being prepped for the Engagement Gala. Silver drapes were being hung from the trees, and droids were polishing the marble tiles until they shone like mirrors. "My father expects me to walk into that ballroom and smile at the man who wants to destroy us."

"Is it true?" Maya asked, stepping closer. Her voice was barely a whisper. "The rumor from the bridge? They say you two didn't just talk. They say the air changed when you touched him."

I felt a flush creep up my neck. I thought of Killian's gold eyes, the way they had darkened with a primal hunger when he looked at my mouth.

"He's a Blood Moon Alpha," I said, avoiding her gaze. "He projects a lot of energy. It was just... intimidation."

"Lyra, I'm a healer. I know what a chemical spike looks like," Maya said, turning me to face her. "If the Moon Goddess has fated you to the Blackwood heir, fighting it will only make the fire burn hotter. You know what happens to unmated pairs who try to ignore the bond. It drives them mad."

"Then let me be mad," I snapped. "I will not be a pawn in this game. I am a Silverstream. We are the architects of the new world. We don't bow to primal urges."

Maya sighed, reaching for the zipper on the garment bag. "Then you had better put on your armor, Princess. Because your 'primal urge' is going to be walking through those front gates in less than four hours. And he's bringing his entire pack with him."

She pulled the dress from the bag. It was a masterpiece of Silver River craftsmanship-a gown made of woven silver thread that felt like liquid metal. It was beautiful, elegant, and entirely transparent about what I was: a prize to be displayed.

I looked at the dress, then at my own reflection in the mirror. My ice-blue eyes looked haunted. My white hair was a mess of tangles and forest debris. I looked like a warrior who had lost her war.

"In three days, I will be at the Neutral Cathedral," I whispered, touching the cool silk of the dress. "And in three days, Lyra Silverstream will die. Only the Bride of the Blood Moon will be left."

"Or," Maya said, her eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp intelligence, "maybe you're not the one being sacrificed. Maybe you're the Trojan horse, Lyra. You're a strategist. Use the bond. Use the marriage. If you can't kill him with a dagger, kill him from the inside."

I looked at her, a slow, cold smile spreading across my lips. The strategist in me, the part that had been suppressed by the shock of the bond, finally began to wake up.

"You're right," I said, my voice returning to its steady, lethal calm. "He thinks he's buying a wife. He has no idea he's inviting his greatest enemy into his bed."

I took the silver dress from her hands. "Help me get ready, Maya. If I'm going to a gala, I want to make sure Killian Blackwood never forgets the night he thought he won."

Author's Note:

The plot thickens! Lyra is moving from "Victim" to "Strategist," and I am here for it! 🗡️✨ But can we talk about Maya's advice? "Kill him from the inside"-is she suggesting Lyra use the mate bond as a weapon? That is so dangerous! 😱

And what about Kael? He looked like he was about to start a war all by himself at the bridge. Do you think he's going to let Lyra go without a fight? 🌋

Drop a comment! Are you Team #TrojanHorse or do you think the bond is going to make Lyra forget her plan the moment Killian touches her again? I'm reading every theory! See you in Chapter 3 for! 🐺🍫