POV: Raevan
The desert winds carried rumors before riders did. That was the first warning—uneasy whispers filtering in through traveling merchants and exhausted soldiers returning from their posts. I stood on the highest balcony of the fortress, looking out across the vast dunes that shimmered like molten gold under the afternoon sun. The horizon felt wrong today, unsettled, as if something stirred beneath its surface.
Kaide approached from behind, his boots silent on the sandstone. “We received confirmation,” he said without ceremony. “Zarek has allied with the northern raiders.”
A cold spike slid down my spine.
The raiders were notorious for their brutality—wolves who followed no laws, no packs, no codes, only bloodlust. For Zarek to partner with them meant his ambitions had twisted into something monstrous. It also meant he was preparing for far more than a retrieval party.
He was preparing for war.
“How many raider clans?” I asked.
“Three,” Kaide replied. “The Red Scars, the Black Fang, and the Iron Howlers.”
I swore under my breath. The Iron Howlers alone were capable of tearing through our border scouts in a night. Red Scars were desert assassins disguised as traders. Black Fang specialized in siege tactics.
Together, they formed a nightmare.
“What do the elders say?” I asked.
Kaide gave a tired, humorless laugh. “They’re arguing. Half claim we should strengthen our defenses. The other half say provoking Zarek will doom us. And a few—idiots—are whispering maybe we should give Soraya back.”
My eyes snapped to him.
Kaide held up a hand. “I shut that down immediately. Vienne did too. Several warriors threatened to walk out if the council even considered it.”
Good. At least our loyalty hadn’t rotted completely.
Still, anger simmered in my gut. “Soraya bears no blame for this alliance.”
“Tell that to wolves who fear northern raids,” Kaide muttered. “Fear makes them stupid.”
I gripped the balcony rail until the stone bit into my palms. Soraya had barely healed from her collapse. She was finally training, finally beginning to understand her powers, and now this—this threat—would throw the entire empire back into chaos.
As if sensing my spiraling thoughts, Kaide added quietly, “She asked about the raids this morning. She wants to help.”
My pulse faltered. “She shouldn’t.”
“She knows that,” he said. “But she hates watching others suffer because of her.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Soraya was always too quick to blame herself, too ready to carry the weight of the desert on shoulders already bruised from betrayal and fate. I wanted to protect her from all of it—Zarek, raiders, elders, even her own guilt—but every path I took seemed to make things worse.
Especially with the child.
My jaw tightened.
Kaide studied me with a cautious expression. “Raevan… you’ve been different these past days.”
Different was a kind way to say hollow, restless, volatile. Since Azhara’s pregnancy was confirmed, sleep had become impossible. Food tasted like sand. My wolf snarled constantly, trapped between instincts—to protect Soraya and protect the heir forced upon me.
“If you’re asking if I’m coping,” I said, voice low, “I’m not.”
He didn’t deny it. “You should see her.”
I stiffened. “I don’t owe her anything.”
“Maybe not,” Kaide admitted. “But a child is coming. And she’s still locked in the lower chambers. You haven’t gone once.”
“I don’t know what I’d say to her,” I confessed, surprising myself.
The admission scraped at old wounds.
Kaide exhaled. “Then at least see the child’s mother once. For clarity, if nothing else.”
Clarity. Right.
I left the balcony without answering him.
***
The lower chambers were dim and cold, carved deep into the bedrock of the fortress. Guards straightened as I approached, bowing stiffly. No one stopped me as I entered Azhara’s room.
She stood near the narrow window slit, sunlight casting a pale line across her face. She turned when she heard my approach, her expression unreadable.
“Raevan.” Her voice was soft. Too soft.
I stopped several paces away, not trusting proximity. “I came because I needed to hear it from you,” I said. “You’re pregnant.”
Her hand drifted to her abdomen, fingers brushing the fabric. “Yes.”
I remained silent.
“You don’t believe it,” she murmured.
“I believe the healer,” I said curtly. “But disbelief isn’t the same as acceptance.”
Her lips twitched—a sad smile, not triumphant like before. “I did not expect acceptance. Only acknowledgment.”
We stood there, two wolves bound by a mistake neither of us had consented to.
Azhara looked down, voice trembling. “Raevan… I didn’t mean for the potion to lead to this. I never meant—”
“Stop,” I cut in. “Don’t rewrite your intentions for sympathy. You drugged me. You manipulated me. And now a child is the consequence.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, but I felt nothing stir. Not pity. Not anger. Only exhaustion.
“I know you love her,” Azhara whispered. “Everyone does. Even the guards in the hallways speak her name like a prophecy.” Her voice cracked. “But this child—our child—will still be yours. And I… I don’t know how to navigate that.”
The truth pressed heavily between us.
“I will not abandon the child,” I said. “I will not punish an innocent for your actions.”
She nodded shakily.
“But I will not pretend we’re bound by anything else.”
Silence.
I could almost hear her heart break.
“I understand,” she whispered.
I stepped back. “Rest. The healers will monitor you. And the guards will keep you safe.”
When I turned to leave, she said one last thing—quiet, but sharp enough to stop me.
“Zarek has formed alliances, Raevan. The empire trembles. And Soraya… she is at the center of it.”
I walked out without answering. She wasn’t wrong.