The harem's library becomes my sanctuary, a refuge from three sets of eyes that haunt my every waking moment. Dust motes dance in afternoon sunlight as I surround myself with ancient texts and crumbling maps, desperate for answers.
I've been avoiding them for three days now. Nathan's intense gaze across the dining hall, Luca's bright smile in corridors, Ryder's gentle summons I've declined with invented headaches.
The space helps me breathe without drowning in their scents, their touches, the impossible pull of destiny and desire.
The curse consumes my research. Ryder explained the basics—his ancestor's crime, Selena's murder, the bloodline dying at thirty unless they find their fated mate.
But I need more. Which pack did Selena come from?
My fingers trace faded ink on yellowed pages. "A High Pack of the North," one chronicle states vaguely. Another mentions "the pack of ancestors of the Moon Goddess herself."
The most promising lead appears in a journal: "The Snow Wolves of the northern mountains."
But there are three northern packs that could claim that title. The records blur together, deliberately obscured. I find evidence of burned archives, torn pages, systematic erasure.
The Cruel King didn't just kill Selena—he tried to eliminate her entire existence.
"Finding her descendants would require knowing which specific pack to search," I mutter, cross-referencing bloodline records with trade routes. "But if the records are destroyed..."
"You know, most people say hello before launching into monologues about genealogy."
My heart stops. Luca sits across from me, that familiar playful smile lighting his face. But his green eyes hold something serious, something that makes my wolf stir restlessly.
"How long have you been there?" I manage, closing the tome.
"Long enough to watch you bite your lip while concentrating. It's adorable, by the way." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Though I'm more curious about why you're hiding in here instead of anywhere we might actually see you."
"I'm researching. The curse needs—"
"Coralina." Just my name, but the way he says it cuts through my deflection. "You're avoiding us. Me, Nathan, even Ryder. The question is why."
I look away, focusing on the map. "I needed space to think clearly."
"About what?" He leans forward. "About whether you wish the mate bonds didn't exist? Whether you could just choose Ryder without fate making everything complicated?"
The questions hit like physical blows because they're exactly what's been tormenting me. "Luca, please don't—"
"Because I've been wondering," he continues, voice edged with something raw, "if maybe you'd be happier if Nathan and I had never shown up. If the dreams had stayed dreams. If you could just love your king without two mates pulling at your soul."
"Stop." The word breaks from me, tears burning my eyes. "Just stop."
"Then talk to me." All playfulness vanishes. "Tell me what's really happening here. Because watching you disappear, feeling you pull away—it's killing us."
The tears spill over. "I'm terrified, okay? I have two fated mates who my wolf recognizes as everything. I have a man I'm falling in love with who might die in four years. And I don't know how to be enough for any of you, let alone all three."
My voice cracks. "Nathan needs stability. You need someone who can match your light. Ryder needs someone strong enough to stand beside a king. And I'm just me. One person trying to split herself three ways and failing everyone."
Luca moves around the table, his hand covering mine, warm and steady. "Coralina, look at me."
When I do, his expression is gentler than I've ever seen. "You don't have to be enough for everyone. You don't have to be perfect or split yourself into pieces. You just have to be honest about what you want."
"But what if what I want is impossible? What if I can't choose?"
His thumb strokes my knuckles. "Then don't choose. Who says you have to?"
"Everyone. Everything. The world doesn't work that way—"
"Our world has men who turn into wolves, curses spanning generations, and dreams connecting souls across miles. Why should love follow conventional rules?"
He stands, tugging me up. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere that isn't full of dusty books and impossible questions. Just for an hour. Let me help you remember what it feels like not to carry everyone else's happiness."
I should refuse. But his hand in mine feels like an absolution, and I'm so tired of thinking, analyzing, trying to solve an equation that might not have an answer.
He leads me through palace corridors I've never seen, until we reach an innocuous door. Beyond it, stone steps descend into darkness. Luca produces a lamp, its glow casting dancing shadows.
"Trust me?" he asks, and despite everything, I do.
The steps lead to another door opening into magic. A hidden garden spreads before us, lit by moonlight through a glass ceiling. Night-blooming flowers release perfume—jasmine, evening primrose. A fountain bubbles at the center.
"How did you find this place?"
"Nathan and I discovered it years ago during a boring diplomatic summit. We'd come here when court politics got suffocating." He guides me to a bench. "Seemed like you might need that escape."
We sit in comfortable silence, the garden's peace seeping into my bones. After days of frantic research and desperate avoidance, this quiet feels like a gift.
He breaks the silence first.
"You know what Nathan did when we were twelve?" Luca grins wickedly. "He tried to impress this girl by showing off during training. Shifted mid-jump, completely misjudged the landing, and face-planted right into the mud pit."
"Nathan? Mr. Brooding Intensity?" I can't help but laugh. "Please tell me someone saw."
"The entire pack saw. Including the girl. She patted him on the head like a wet puppy and walked away." His eyes dance with mischief. "He didn't talk to anyone for three days."
"You're terrible for telling me this."
"Oh, I'm just getting started. Did you know there's a duke from the eastern provinces who insists everyone learns his traditional mating dance?" Luca stands, striking an absurd pose with one leg bent like a flamingo. "It's supposed to showcase virility."
"Stop," I gasp between giggles as he hops in a circle, arms flailing.
"The best part—" he continues, now adding aggressive hip thrusts, "—is that his wife told me she only agreed to marry him to make him stop dancing."
"You're making that up!"
"Scout's honor. Nathan had to leave the room during the demonstration because he was about to shift from trying not to laugh." He plops back down beside me, slightly out of breath. "The duke still does it at every celebration. We take bets on who'll crack first."
He continues, distracting me, and for one precious hour, I forget about curses and destiny. I'm just Coralina, sitting in a moonlit garden with someone who makes impossible things feel possible.
"Thank you," I tell him as he walks me back. "For this. For not pushing."
"Coralina?" He stops at my door, taking both my hands. "Earlier, when you said you don't want to choose?"
My heart races. "Yes?"
"Good." Relief transforms his face, tension melting away. "Because neither do we. Nathan and I—we've been trying to figure out how to share you with each other and with Ryder. It's not conventional, but nothing about us is."
He releases a breath he's clearly been holding, shoulders relaxing. "Just don't give up on us yet. Any of us. Promise?"
"I promise," I whisper, and mean it.
He kisses my forehead gently, then disappears into shadows, leaving me with more questions than answers but somehow, inexplicably lighter.