POV: Raevan
Dawn had not yet broken when the elders summoned an emergency council. Word had spread quickly—too quickly—that Azhara had been caught with a vial of forbidden poison. Kaide brought her in under guard, her wrists bound with silver-threaded rope, her face pale and blotched from crying. She looked nothing like the poised, perfect court jewel she had always pretended to be. Instead she looked hunted, cornered, unraveling.
The council chamber was carved deep into the cliffside, illuminated by golden braziers that cast long shadows across stone pillars. Every ranking wolf sat in a half-circle—Beta, generals, healers, Sandscar warriors, and the ancient elders whose faces were etched with sun and age. They watched Azhara in cold silence.
I stood at the center, alone, arms crossed behind my back. I refused the throne seat. I didn’t want authority today. I wanted truth.
Elder Saren, the oldest among them, lifted his staff. “Raevan of Ashra. You bring charges against your promised bride. Speak.”
My jaw clenched. “Azhara attempted to poison Soraya. She aimed the vial for her mouth while Soraya was unconscious and defenseless.”
Gasps rippled through the chamber. Some disbelief. Some outrage. Some satisfaction from those who had always suspected Azhara’s cruelty.
Azhara shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was trying to protect him! Protect all of us!” Her voice cracked. “You all heard the stories—Zehrael witches twist minds. They unsettle packs. They—”
“Enough.” I let the word slice through the room.
She flinched.
Elder Vahan, harsh and sharp-eyed, leaned forward. “Is this true? Were you intending to—”
“I wasn’t going to kill her!” Azhara cried. “Only silence her magic. Stop the chaos she’s causing. Raevan is losing control because of her. Look at him! Look at what he’s become!”
A murmur rose.
I held the vial up between my fingers. “Two drops of this can kill.”
Azhara’s eyes darted to the liquid. “I—I didn’t know—”
Kaide scoffed from beside the guard line. “You knew exactly what it was.”
Azhara trembled, then lifted her chin, trying to salvage some form of dignity. “Everything I did, I did for Ashra. For Raevan. For our future.”
Elder Saren nodded slowly. “Azhara of the Firemoon House, you have violated three sacred decrees: harming a packmate, using forbidden poison, and acting against an unconscious wolf.” His gaze hardened. “Punishment must be decided.”
Azhara’s breathing hitched.
The chamber braced.
She looked at me—really looked—and for the first time her eyes held something besides jealousy or manipulation.
They held fear.
“Raevan,” she whispered, “please… say something.”
“I did,” I said softly. “You tried to kill her.”
A strangled sound escaped her—part sob, part fury.
The elders began discussing punishments: exile, imprisonment, stripping her of status, cutting her off from Firemoon inheritance. I heard none of it. My attention remained on Azhara.
She shook with each passing word, panic rising.
Finally, Elder Saren raised his staff again. “We will put it to vote. Azhara of Firemoon—”
“I’m pregnant.”
The chamber froze.
Everything—every voice, every breath—hung suspended in the hot desert air.
Azhara stood straighter. She slid a hand to her abdomen. “I am carrying Raevan’s child.”
Gasps broke out. A few wolves stood, stunned. Kaide swore under his breath. The elders stared at her as though she had announced the sun collapsing.
My pulse hammered.
Pregnant.
Impossible.
My bond with her was the weakest it had ever been. I felt nothing from her—no heartbeat that wasn’t hers, no second presence, no whisper of shared life. Our mating had been forced through magic, not intention.
She watched my face, searching for reaction. For weakness.
For hope.
I gave her nothing.
Elder Vahan leaned forward, voice trembling with shock. “Azhara… are you certain?”
She nodded. “I—I am. A healer tested me yesterday morning. I waited to tell Raevan, but…”
Lies.
All lies.
But they were clever lies. Precisely aimed. Because if she truly carried my heir, she could not be exiled. Not punished. Not dismissed as a criminal.
Or could she possibly be…
She watched me, begging silently:
Say nothing. Let them believe. If they believe, I survive.
My wolf growled with violent disgust.
Elder Saren cleared his throat. “Raevan… do you confirm the claim?”
Every eye snapped to me.
The weight of an empire pressed onto my shoulders. If I said yes—even hesitantly—the elders would halt the trial. They would protect her, elevate her, shield her. She would rise again and Soraya would be in more danger than ever.
If I said no, I would be calling my own betrothed a liar in front of the ruling council.
Azhara trembled visibly.
I lifted my chin.
“I do not confirm it.”
Her face cracked like clay under fire.
“I felt no bond pulse when mating happened. No shift in her aura. Nothing that suggests my heir grows within her.”
Gasps again, louder.
Azhara choked. “Raevan… you’re lying. You’re doing this for her.” She pointed feebly toward Soraya’s absent place. “You’d deny your own child for her—”
“Enough!” Elder Saren thundered. “We will summon the healers to verify immediately!”
Two healers stepped forward.
Kaide folded his arms. “Funny how she's suddenly nervous.”
The healers reached her. One took her wrist. The other placed glowing hands over her abdomen.
Azhara held her breath.
The glow faded.
Both healers exchanged a look.
Then the eldest one bowed to the council. “She is pregnant.”
My vision blurred.
Everyone fell silent.
Azhara exhaled in relief.
The chamber erupted—Elder Saren lifted his staff one final time.
“Azhara of Firemoon, for poisoning attempts, you will be watched until a full punishment is decided.”
Guards seized her arms.
But I didn’t look back. I only thought of Soraya.