Chapter 4 The Lycan's Kingdom

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Blackfen Fortress, Two Days Later

The mountains carved into the sky like jagged teeth as the towering gates of Blackfen Fortress came into view. Dark stone walls stood tall, covered in ancient runes that shimmered faintly in the gray light of dawn. Guard towers flanked each side, their sentinels silent, silver-tipped spears in hand.

Elara's breath caught in her throat.

This wasn't a palace.

This was a fortress meant to keep beasts in-and kingdoms out.

Kael rode ahead, still and silent, his cloak whipping in the wind. Behind him, Elara sat atop her own horse now, guided gently by Kael's Beta, Thorne, a stoic man with a jagged scar across his right eye and the loyalty of a soldier carved into every motion.

No one had spoken much since they left Crimson Hollow.

But as they approached the fortress, Elara could feel it-the change in the air.

Power hummed beneath the earth. The sky hung heavier here, as though watching. Judging.

Her mark ached on her wrist again, glowing faintly under the bandages Kael had wrapped it with before their journey.

"You'll draw attention," he had said. "Until we know who to trust, the fewer eyes on that mark, the better."

Now she understood.

Because the moment the gates creaked open and she stepped inside the fortress walls, every eye turned to her.

Warriors. Advisors. Courtiers.

Their nostrils flared. Their expressions twisted-from shock to curiosity, then to fear.

She wasn't just a guest.

She was the King's mate-and that meant something dangerous.

---

Kael dismounted first and turned to help her down. She took his hand reluctantly, aware of how many watched their every move.

"My King," Thorne said in a low voice, bowing slightly. "Shall I summon the Inner Circle?"

"Summon them to the war chamber," Kael replied. "But not a word about her to the others."

"Understood."

Kael led Elara through the fortress gates, his pace steady, his presence impossible to ignore.

Blackfen was cold and vast, its walls etched with silver script. Torches lined the halls, illuminating tapestries depicting Lycans of old-kings crowned in blood, wolves wrapped in moonlight, battles fought under crimson skies.

Everything here felt... ancient. Alive.

And Elara didn't belong in any of it.

When they reached a quiet corridor near the eastern tower, Kael opened a carved wooden door.

"This is yours."

She stepped inside slowly. The room was modest-but warm. A bed made with furs. A fireplace already lit. A bath steaming near the window. And a wardrobe stocked with clothes clearly made for someone of rank.

"I don't need all this," she whispered.

"You will," Kael said.

She turned to him. "Why are you doing this?"

He studied her for a long moment, then stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"You think I chose this?"

Elara flinched. "Didn't you?"

"I fought fate my entire life. I ruled by fear. I never wanted a mate."

"Then why-?"

"Because the bond doesn't ask what we want," he said, voice low, almost bitter. "It demands. It claims. And when I saw you-felt your blood call to mine-I knew I would burn the world before letting anyone hurt you again."

She trembled.

"But I don't even know who I am," she said. "I don't know what this mark means. I don't even know how to be... what you want."

Kael stepped forward slowly.

"I don't want perfection, Elara. I want the truth. I want your strength. Your fire. The part of you they tried to smother."

He reached out, brushing a knuckle against her cheek.

"And I want you to learn who you are. Here. Safe. Protected. And when you're ready... I want you at my side."

Her breath hitched.

No one had ever spoken to her like that.

No one had ever seen her like that.

He didn't lean in to kiss her. He didn't touch her beyond that simple gesture. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes filled with quiet intensity.

"I'll give you space," he said. "But not distance."

She nodded, dazed.

Then Kael was gone, leaving her with warmth, silence, and the slow unraveling of everything she thought she knew about power... and herself.

---

Later that night, after she had bathed and dressed in one of the soft black gowns from the wardrobe, Elara sat by the fire, staring at the mark on her wrist.

It glowed again-brighter this time.

Almost like it was reacting to something.

Or someone.

A knock on the door broke her trance.

Before she could answer, it creaked open and a girl stepped inside-no older than Elara herself, with russet hair braided neatly and pale eyes that gleamed with nervous energy.

"My lady," she said with a curtsy. "I'm Amira. The King asked me to help you settle in."

"I'm not a lady," Elara said quickly.

Amira smiled shyly. "You are now."

She helped Elara tie her hair back, brought her warm honeyed tea, and laid out simple details about the fortress-the dining hours, the practice courts, the library Kael had commissioned himself.

"He reads?" Elara asked, surprised.

"Obsessively," Amira giggled. "Especially about the old ways. The Moonbound, too."

Elara's heart skipped.

Amira leaned in closer. "Everyone's whispering already. The soldiers say they felt something shift when you entered the gates. Some even knelt without realizing."

Elara swallowed hard.

"Is that bad?"

"I don't think so," Amira said softly. "But change always frightens those who cling to the old ways."

The fire crackled.

And outside, somewhere beyond the walls, wolves howled beneath the rising moon.

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