The war horn sounded across Ironheart’s main courtyard, its deep bellow echoing off stone walls like a challenge to the gods themselves.
“Form ranks!” Astrid’s voice cracked like a whip over the assembled warriors. “Today we show the prince what real warfare looks like!”
I strapped on my borrowed armor, the unfamiliar weight settling across my shoulders as Commander Hayes approached with a grim smile.
“Last chance to back out, Your Highness,” he said. “No shame in admitting you’re not ready for Ironheart tactics.”
“I didn’t come here to back down.”
“Good.” He clapped me on the shoulder hard enough to rattle my teeth. “Because she’s planning to test every limit you have.”
Across the field, Astrid stood before her assembled troops, red hair braided for battle, armor gleaming in the morning sun. When she looked at me, her green eyes held challenge and something else—something that made my wolf pace restlessly.
“Prince Kieran!” she called out, her voice carrying across the courtyard. “You’ve been training with my soldiers for weeks. Today we find out if you’re truly one of us.”
A roar went up from the assembled warriors, bloodthirsty and eager. This wasn’t just a training exercise—it was a trial by combat, witnessed by the entire pack.
“What are the terms?” I called back.
“Full contact. No mercy. Victory or defeat.” Her smile was sharp as a blade. “Think you can handle it?”
“Try me.”
The simulation began like controlled chaos. Two armies clashing in the courtyard, steel ringing against steel, shields splintering under the impact of war hammers. But I had eyes only for Astrid as she carved through the melee like a force of nature.
“Stay close!” she shouted over the din of battle. “And try not to get yourself killed!”
I fought beside her, matching her brutal efficiency strike for strike. Where she led, I followed, until we moved like two parts of the same weapon. The pack that had once viewed me with suspicion now responded to my commands without hesitation.
“Behind you!” I roared, catching an attacker’s blade on my shield as he tried to flank her.
She spun, her sword taking his legs out from under him. “About time you proved useful!”
But there was approval in her voice, and pride, and something that made my chest tight with recognition.
When the horn sounded the end of combat, we stood together in the center of the field, surrounded by groaning warriors and broken weapons. Sweat and blood streaked our faces, but we were both grinning.
“Well fought!” Alpha Stormclaw’s voice boomed from the observation platform. “Both of you!”
The crowd roared its approval, but I only had eyes for the woman beside me.
“Not bad for a prince,” she said, breathing hard.
“Not bad for a barbarian.”
She laughed—a real laugh, bright and fierce. “Careful, Your Highness. I might start thinking you actually like it here.”
“Maybe I do.”
The words hung between us, heavy with meaning. Around us, the celebration continued, but suddenly we might as well have been alone.
“Astrid—”
“Prince Kieran.” Alpha Stormclaw’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “A word.”
The Alpha’s private study was a shrine to warfare—weapons lining the walls, battle maps covering every surface, the skulls of defeated enemies displayed like trophies. He poured two cups of something that smelled like liquid fire and handed one to me.
“You fought well today,” he said without preamble.
“Thank you.”
“My daughter has trained you well.” His pale eyes studied me over the rim of his cup. “The question is, what do you intend to do with that training?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Don’t play games with me, boy.” His voice carried the authority of decades. “You’re leaving tomorrow. We both know it. The question is what you intend to do about my daughter.”
The directness of it hit like a physical blow. I set down my cup, meeting his gaze.
“I care about her.”
“Care?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Men have died for caring about Astrid Stormclaw. What makes you think you’re different?”
“Because I’m not trying to change her.”
“No?” He leaned back in his chair, studying me with calculating eyes. “Then what are you trying to do?”
“Love her as she is.”
The words escaped before I could stop them. Alpha Stormclaw’s eyebrows rose.
“Love.” He tasted the word like wine. “And what does love mean when you’re bound to two other women?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m willing to find out.”
“Are you?” He stood, moving to the window that overlooked the courtyard. “Because from where I stand, it looks like you’re collecting queens like trophies.”
“That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” He turned to face me, and I saw something dangerous in his expression. “Three women, three territories, one crown. Sounds like politics to me.”
“It’s not politics. It’s prophecy.”
“Prophecy.” He spat the word. “You hide behind destiny like a shield, but we both know the truth.”
“Which is?”
“You want them all. And you’re using fate as an excuse to take what you desire.”
The accusation hit its mark. I felt my jaw clench, my hands curl into fists.
“That’s not true.”
“Prove it.” He moved closer, close enough that I could smell the steel and leather scent that seemed to permeate everything in Ironheart. “Stay. Choose my daughter. Let the prophecy burn.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Then you know I can’t give you my blessing.” His voice was final, absolute. “You want to claim her? Earn her. But don’t expect me to hand her over like a political prize.”
“I would never—”
“You already have.” He turned back to the window. “She’s been different since you arrived. Softer. More vulnerable. And now you’re leaving her to chase another woman.”
“The bond—”
“The bond is an excuse.” He looked at me over his shoulder, and I saw something like pity in his eyes. “You could fight it if you wanted to. You could choose to stay. But you won’t, because deep down, you want to see what else is out there.”
The words were a gut punch because they held just enough truth to hurt.
“I have to complete the prophecy.”
“You have to choose what matters more—destiny or the woman you claim to love.” He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “When you figure out the answer to that question, you’ll know what kind of man you really are.”
He left me alone with my guilt and the weight of choices I’d never wanted to make.
I found Astrid in the highest tower, exactly where I knew she’d be. She stood at the window, silhouetted against the star-filled sky, still wearing her battle-stained armor.
“Your father thinks I’m using you,” I said.
“Are you?” She didn’t turn around, but I heard the challenge in her voice.
“I don’t know.” The honesty felt like cutting open a wound. “Maybe.”
“At least you’re honest.” She finally faced me, and I saw something broken in her green eyes. “Most men would lie.”
“I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Then tell me the truth.” She moved closer, close enough that I could see the exhaustion etched in her features. “When you leave tomorrow, will you think about me? Or will you be too busy falling in love with her?”
“I’ll think about you.”
“For how long?” Her voice cracked slightly. “A week? A month? Until the new bond takes hold and I become just another memory?”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Isn’t it?” She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “Because from where I stand, it feels like I’m losing you already.”
“You’re not losing me.”
“Then prove it.” She pulled me down for a kiss that tasted of desperation and goodbye. “Show me that this means something.”
What followed wasn’t gentle. She bit and clawed and demanded everything I had to give, as if she could brand herself into my memory through sheer force of will. We fell onto her bed in a tangle of armor and desperate need.
“Don’t be gentle,” she gasped against my throat. “I need to remember this. All of it.”
“I won’t forget you,” I promised, my voice rough with emotion.
“You say that now.” Her nails raked down my back, leaving marks that would last for days. “But she’s out there, calling to you. And eventually, you’ll answer.”
“Astrid—”
“Don’t.” She silenced me with another kiss, fierce and final. “Just… don’t.”
When it was over, we lay tangled together in the darkness, both breathing hard. She traced patterns on my chest with her fingertip, her touch gentle for once.
“I want to give you something,” she said quietly.
“What?”
She reached for the knife on her bedside table, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. “A reminder.”
“Astrid, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” She pressed the edge to my ribs, just deep enough to draw blood. “So you’ll remember me when you’re with her.”
The sting was sharp but brief. She leaned down, pressing her lips to the fresh wound.
“There,” she whispered. “Now you’ll carry part of me with you.”
I caught her hand, bringing it to my lips. “I would have remembered you anyway.”
“Maybe. But now I’m sure.”
Dawn came too soon, pale light filtering through the tower windows. I dressed quietly, trying not to wake her, but when I turned to leave, her voice stopped me.
“Kieran.”
I looked back. She was sitting up in bed, the sheet pooled around her waist, her red hair wild around her shoulders.
“Don’t look back,” she said. “When you ride away, don’t look back. I won’t be watching.”
“Astrid—”
“Promise me.”
I stared at her, memorizing every detail of her face in the morning light. “I promise.”
She nodded once, then lay back down, turning away from me. “Go. Before I change my mind and chain you to the bed.”
I left her there, curled on her side, pretending to sleep.
The courtyard was already bustling with activity when I arrived. My horse was saddled and waiting, my escort mounted and ready. Alpha Stormclaw stood with his commanders, his face giving nothing away.
“Prince Kieran,” he said formally. “Ironheart thanks you for your… visit.”
“The honor was mine, Alpha.”
He nodded curtly. “Safe travels.”
I mounted my horse, settling into the saddle. Around me, the Ironheart warriors who’d become my brothers in arms offered quiet farewells and respectful nods.
But Astrid was nowhere to be seen.
True to her word, she wasn’t watching from the tower. Wasn’t standing in the courtyard. Had given me the gift of leaving without having to see the pain in her eyes.
As we rode through the gates, I kept my promise. I didn’t look back.
But my chest aches like I left a blade in it.