“The palace has no control over what Healer Selene does in herpersonal time,” Lucian says, his tone carrying the weight of absolute authority. “She is free to see whomever she chooses.”
“Is she?” Zane’s voice drops, adding layers of hurt and confusion that would be masterful if they weren’t complete bullshit. “Because I’ve heard troubling rumors, Your Majesty. Rumors that she’s being forced to consider another man. To bond with someone else against her will.”
I close my eyes for a moment to stop myself from launching at the man.
“What rumors?” Lucian’s power coils tighter, the air in the room growing heavy.
“That Commander Rowan”—Zane’s gaze locks onto mine, challenge blazing in those dark eyes—“is spending time with my fated mate. That he is forcing her to sleep in his quarters.”
The words burst out of me before I can stop them. “Forcing her?!”
Every head in the chamber turns toward me now. Heat crawls up my neck, but I don’t look away from Zane. The bastard has the audacity to look offended, wounded, as if I’m the one who has wronged him.
“Of course forcing her,” Zane says sharply, his voice rising with righteous indignation. “She is my fated mate, Commander. She would never willingly be with another man.” His expression shifts to something almost sympathetic. “Even if she had…feelings for you before we met, the fated mate bond would never allow those feelings to continue. It’s impossible. Which means”—he spreads his hands as if the conclusion is obvious—“she must be being coerced.”
The logic is airtight if you don’t know the truth. If you believe his lies about being Selene’s fated mate, then everything else follows. Of course she wouldn’t choose me. Of course she’d need to be forced.
My hands shake with the effort of not striding over there and strangling him.
Lucian and I exchange a look—brief, loaded with unspoken communication. We both know what’s happening here. Zane is making his move, forcing our hand. Either we reveal the truth about the mating bond, which would destroy any chance offiguring out his plan, or we let him paint me as a villain who is forcing himself on an unwilling woman.
Before either of us can respond, movement catches my eye.
A man steps forward from the Council seats—late fifties, with slicked-back hair that’s more grease than style and a smile that nauseates me. His robes seem expensive but are worn in a way that suggests he cares more about appearances than actual quality. Rings glitter on every finger, gaudy and excessive.
High Inquisitor Draven. Leader of the purist faction within the Umbra Council. The man who has been a thorn in Lucian’s side since the moment he took the throne.
“Your Majesty,” Draven says, his voice oily and smooth. “This is indeed a troubling matter.”
Fuck.
My wolf snarls, recognizing the threat immediately. Draven stepping forward means this isn’t just about Zane anymore. This is about to become a Council issue. A political nightmare.
“The integrity of the fated mate bond is sacred,” Draven continues, addressing the room rather than Lucian directly. “If there are allegations that a member of the royal guard—a commander, no less—is interfering with such a bond, forcing his attentions on a woman who belongs to another…” He shakes his head, the picture of concerned righteousness. “This cannot be ignored.”
The chamber erupts in murmurs. Council members lean toward each other, whispering. I catch fragments of conversation: “coercing her,” “sacred connection,” “abuse of power.”
My reputation is being shredded in real time, and there’s nothing I can do about it without revealing the truth.
Lucian stands, silencing the room instantly. “Commander Rowan has served this kingdom with distinction for years. I will not have his character assassinated based on rumors and speculation.”
“Of course not, Your Majesty.” Draven’s smile never wavers. “Which is why I propose we investigate the matter properly. Bring Healer Selene before the Council. Let her speak for herself about these…arrangements.”
No. No fucking way.
The thought of Selene being dragged before the Council, forced to explain our relationship while Zane sits there watching with those calculating eyes makes my wolf howl with protective fury.
“That won’t be necessary—” I start, but Draven cuts me off.
“Surely the Commander has nothing to hide?” His gaze locks onto mine, sharp and knowing despite the pleasant tone. “If Healer Selene can explain why she’s been avoiding Lord Radrick, her own fated mate, that would settle the matter immediately. Unless there’s a reason the Commander doesn’t want her to speak?”
It’s a trap. A beautiful, perfectly constructed trap.
If we refuse to bring Selene forward, it looks like we’re hiding something—like I have been forcing her, and we know she’d expose the truth. But if we do bring her forward, we either have to reveal the mating bond—which creates its own nightmare—or have Selene explain why she’s avoiding her supposed fated mate while spending nights in my bed.
Revealing the bond she and I share is not a solution anymore. Zane just made it public knowledge that he and Selene are fated mates. He announced it to the entire Council, to every noble and advisor in this chamber. If Selene suddenly claims I’m her fated mate instead, Zane can accuse me of using magic to manipulate the bond. Of doing exactly what he tried to do to her. The irony would be laughable if it weren’t so fucking dangerous.
I take a deep breath. Through our bond, I feel Selene’s sudden surge of anxiety—she must sense my distress from wherever she is in the palace. The feeling makes my chest tighten with the need to go to her, to protect her from all this.
