Aris
Sapphire Ridge isn’t a beautiful place by any means. Compared to the sub-tropical, evergreen landscape of the capital, the Ridge is, for the most part, buried in several feet of fog on even the sunniest of days. Today is no exception.
It’s raining. Pouring, to be completely, brutally honest. The hood of my cloak is sopping wet by the time I reach the gate of the castle, which opens wide with the help of a quartet of guards who either sensed my presence or open the gate for anyone who comes near, the latter being more likely. Sapphire Ridge is secluded, rural, and not friendly to outsiders. Everyone here–all two-hundred pack members or so–are related loosely, I believe. Distance cousins–at bes–are given the preference to marry and reproduce for alchemy power over love or even the mate bond.
The castle of Sapphire Ridge is a boxy fortress of moss-eaten gray stone that casts the rest of the village buildings in its shadow. Built into the side of the mountain, its grounds are little more than stretches of stone and more modern concrete additions and paved over gardens. But, as I round the front of the castle, set on entering through the back, more intimate entrance, I spot a building I’ve never seen before during my infrequent visits that span my entire memorable life as Roman’s best friend.
I haven’t been here for years. Nothing has changed–not the village. Not the villagers who spend the majority of time in their wolf forms. Not the gray hue to every person, place, and object as far as the eye can see.
Nothing but the patina green of rusted copper catching in the glare of the rain.
A greenhouse rests in the fog several years away, tucked in a thicket of overgrown trees. The glass is covered in condensation, but the garden around it is severely overgrown and frostbitten, like it hasn’t been tended to in months.
Of course it hasn’t. That greenhouse belongs to Posey. My mate. My wife. It was the one Goddess-damned thing her family was willing to give her for herself as long as she behaved and fell in line, and knowing Posey, she always did.
Until now.
A guard stops me at the back entrance to the castle but stiffens and bows his head when I lower my hood. “Price Aris,” he murmurs, embarrassment biting through each syllable.
“I’m looking for Alpha Farrow.” I could’ve spirited directly inside, but this is more dramatic.
“He’s in his study, Your Highness.” He gives me another bow, deeper than the last. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and slip through the door, opened by a second guard who decides keeping his mouth shut is better than putting his foot in it, and I appreciate the silence.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the guards have alerted their Alpha to my presence by now. The castle is alive with activity, but no one goes out of their way to pay me any mind.
The undercurrent of frantic activity makes sense. I’ve barely heard from Roman in the past several weeks, if not months. He returned here from Gem Lake and almost immediately became engaged, and that wedding is supposed to take place within the next week. The wedding I was formally invited to but only heard about because of the formal invitation delivered by a Sapphire Ridge messenger, not Roman’s mouth.
A wedding Posey hasn’t mentioned. Not once.
I want to believe the marriage wasn’t totally Roman’s idea, but knowing him and his priorities of late…. Yeah, he’s going through with it, whether he’s ever met the woman or not, whether they’re cousins in some way, shape, or form, or not.
I follow a familiar route to the upper floors of the castle, doing my best to keep my mind blank, trying not to think too hard on what I’m going to say when I face Posey’s father, possibly her mother, and Roman. It seems pretty straightforward to me. She is mine. Mine. The most precious, deserving woman in all of Veiled Valley and the world beyond. She’s a master of her craft, so talented she puts her entire born pack to shame. How dare they make her believe she was worthless? How dare they raise her to be someone’s dutiful puppet? How dare they–
I stop short in the shadow of a side staircase, backtracking two steps to squint into the dimly lit corridor to my left.
Two shadowed figures whisper in low tones, the taller one gesturing between them as the shorter one runs her fingers through her hair before desperately agreeing with whatever the man said.
It takes all of two seconds for their faces to come into view.
Willow and Roman have no idea I’m standing at the base of the corridor watching them, not even bothering to step into the sanctuary of a nearby alcove to spy.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he tells her, but his voice is strained.
“You invited me.”
He steps into her space, his deep sapphire eyes lighting with frustration. “I felt obligated to do so given our–our history.”
“Because I’m your mate, and you’re marrying someone else?” Her freshly manicured nails trill on her hipbones as she tilts her chin to look into his eyes. “Fucker!”
“Did you come here just to rub this in my face a little more? You rejected me. I told you I’d–I’d do it, Willow. I said–”
“First of all, I never rejected you. Secondly, you were the one who stormed off when I asked if we could talk about this another time. I was at work, Roman. My job. My very important job that you offered to leave your rightful role as Alpha to allow me to keep!” She shoves him back a step. “And then I get a fucking invitation to your wedding?”
“Willow,” he grinds out, his voice hushed. “Do you think, for even a second, that I want to be doing this? I wanted you. I made that clear months ago. You didn’t give me a choice in the matter. I respected your wishes. I left you alone, gave you space, or whatever.”
“No, you didn’t give me space–you straight up left. I got off work an hour after that, and you were gone, and I had no way to get in touch with you.”
“Why are you here, Willow?”
“Are you going to deny it? That you ran?”
“Did you not run from me the morning after we realized we were mates?”
Willow’s nostrils flare, but the statement knocks her down a few pegs, for sure. “That didn’t stop you from seeking me out three times after that, Roman. We’ve been hooking up, and you failed to tell me you were fucking engaged to be married!”
“I want to be marrying you,” he whisper-shouts. Goddess, I chose the right time to arrive. “I would give anything to have you take her place. So, if you’re here to continue ripping my heart out of my chest, there’s nothing more I can say. I won’t reject you. It goes against everything I feel, but I sure as hell am not going to stand here and continue making a fool of myself–”
“You’re going to be the Alpha of a pack in Eastonia, Roman. Not even just that, but the Alpha of a pack with special witchcraft! I’m a news anchor!”
“You’re also my mate. That trumps everything!”
“I would fucking hope so.”
He turns his head slightly, and then both of them startle. He grabs her and defensively tucks her behind his large frame, but the damage is done. The couple sees me, realizes I’ve been listening for quite some time, and they both pale to the point I think they’re about to collapse.
“Aris, what are you doing here?” Roman looks utterly surprised. “Did you–”
“Hear everything? Yes, but it’s not news to me. Hi, Willow. Were you going to tell Posey you were in town? She’s been trying to get a hold of you for a while now.”
The mention of Posey has Roman’s hackles raised. Great.
Willow peaks out from behind him looking flushed and uncomfortable, but she gives me a small, subdued smile nonetheless. “Hi, Aris. I was–I was going to drop in. I heard she’s staying with you.”
“She is.” I walk toward them, swishing my cloak behind me, my ring on full display, the little gems that are normally so dark they blend with the iron rippling silver with my powers.
Roman notices the ring and stiffens, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. “I heard the rumor you’d proposed to some princess from Celestoria but didn’t realize you’d gone through with the marriage.”
“I didn’t. Princess Morgan is safely back in Celestoria for all I know.”
“Then who?” Roman’s brows furrow deeply, but Willow steps out from behind him, and the look in her eyes…. Women are a lot quicker than men, for sure.
“My wife is at home, resting. We’re leaving for my family’s Solstice celebrations in a few days.”
Willow’s eyes grow wide, but she doesn’t utter a word. Roman, on the other hand, continues to look like a deer in headlights. “Then why are you here?”
“I need to speak to your father and also convey my deepest, most heartfelt apologies that I won’t be attending your wedding, but it seems like there may not be a wedding after all.” I wink at Willow, who flushes.
Roman relaxes, nodding like me being here, in Sapphire Ridge, on Alpha King business, is a totally reasonable thing for me to do. In theory, it is.
In reality, however…
“Is Posey okay?” Willow takes another step in my direction. “Is she… doing better? She’s supposed to be taking her vows soon, right?”
“She is better, yes. As for her vows, no. She won’t be taking them.”
Roman flinches and looks right at me. “What?”
Neither of them notices the shadow looming further down the hallway. A tall, broad man who looks exactly like Roman but three decades his senior silently comes into view and stops short of making his presence known. I look past Roman and Willow, wondering if I’m doing the right thing by being a total asshole about this, but as much as I love Roman… as much as I respect him… as much as I understand the situation he’s in, because I’ve been there myself, recently…
“Posey is no longer training with the priestesses.”
“Why not?” Roman steps toward me, but Willow grabs his arm to stop his approach, and like a good mate, he obeys. Farrow, still lurking in the shadows, notices, and goes still as stone.
“Because she is mine. My wife.”
The floor under Roman’s feet could have collapsed, and it would have had the same effect. He gasps, chuckles, then stares at me like I slapped him. “Uh, come on, man. What’s going on?”
I look down at my ring with a saccharine smile. “Alpha Farrow, I find it hard to believe you weren’t aware of her skills. She bends iron like water. She made this ring. The little gems, too. They hold my power so expertly.”
Roman slowly turns around to face his father. He doesn’t shake Willow’s hand off his wrist, and she is too stunned to speak as she stares at the ring. Her eyes, however, are wet with unshed tears.
Tears of relief. Joy. Pride, I think.
I step toward Roman, passing him, and angle myself in a way I can face both men, tucking my hands behind my back.
“Prince Aris,” Farrow says sternly, trying to bite back the acid in his voice. “What is the meaning of this lie?”
“How dare you assume I’d lie, Alpha. Your daughter puts the rest of you alchemists to shame. She hid her powers to ensure Roman took his rightful seat on your throne. Did you know that? Or did you have a hand in how she was treated and forced to hide her gifts?” Farrow looks murderous, but I continue, “I love her, if that’s any consolation.”
“What?” Roman rasps, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I may have just carved an impassable rift between the two of us.
But if I play my cards right and take the heat, he might have a real chance of happiness for himself.
Willow can sense it, I think, when I tell them everything, leaving Posey’s bigger secret, her fox form, out of the conversation entirely.
All the while, her hand remains on his wrist, slowly creeping down until their fingers are intertwined.