DRAVEN'S POV.
The council chamber reeked of incense and hypocrisy. It was the same scent that always filled the air when the lords gathered…thick, suffocating air, like they could drown the truth beneath perfume and polished words.
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight, watching them argue. They were like ravens fighting over scraps.
"She should have been executed," one of them said sharply, slamming a hand against the table. "You may have sent her away, Your Majesty, but the damage is done. What if she speaks of us? What if she leads hunters to our gates?"
I didn't bother answering right away. The man's voice grated in my ears…too loud, too self-righteous. Across from him, another lord huffed. "A single human girl isn't our biggest problem. The border patrols reported movement near the Shadow Plains again. Rogues are gathering."
"Oh, now you remember that," I said coldly, finally breaking my silence. My voice cut through their bickering like a blade. "When I told you about the rogues last moon, you called it rumor. But the moment a human stumbles into the castle, you treat it as the end of the world."
Uneasy murmurs rippled around the table. No one met my gaze. They never did.
"Your Majesty," Lord Kael said carefully, adjusting his cloak. "You know it's not just about her. It's about what she means. A human entering the heart of Ghost Moon territory alive, sets a dangerous precedent. If the humans learn—"
"They won't." The word was final. And what followed was silence.
But beneath the quiet, I could feel their fear. They didn't fear humans. They feared me, or rather, what my curse represented. A king who couldn't even touch his people without risking death. A symbol of divine punishment.
"Perhaps," one of the younger lords said, voice cautious, "it would have been wiser to…end it swiftly. To show the goddess that we—"
"The goddess," I interrupted, "does not answer to your theatrics."
He flinched and bowed his head.
Zayn, standing a few steps behind me, cleared his throat quietly. "The king has already taken action," he said, his tone smooth, and diplomatic. "The girl's return ensures no human traces lead here. Our concern should be elsewhere, the southern borders, for instance."
I appreciated that Zayn could read the tension like a map. But it didn't stop the lords from muttering among themselves, still circling the same useless argument. After an hour of their voices echoing off the stone walls, I'd had enough. I rose to my feet, the movement abrupt.
The room fell instantly silent.
"You waste my time with fear," I said, each word measured. "While rogues breed at our borders, trade routes are raided, and half the pack still recovers from last winter's fever, you choose to sit here trembling over a girl."
"She's not just any girl," someone whispered, but my glare silenced him.
"I have given my word she poses no threat. You will not speak of this again in my presence."
I turned to leave, the heavy doors groaning open under my hand, and tossed over my shoulder, "Next time we meet, I expect you to speak of solutions, not superstitions."
The doors slammed shut behind me.
Zayn followed a few paces behind as we walked down the corridor, the sound of our boots echoing. "You know they'll keep talking," he said.
"They always do."
"And the queen?" He asked.
I stopped. The question hung between us. My mother hadn't attended the last two meetings…a quiet protest that said more than any of her sharp words could.
"She'll come around," I muttered, though even I didn't believe it.
Zayn gave a dry chuckle. "I don't think 'come around' is something your mother does, Your Majesty."
I shot him a warning glance, but his smirk didn't fade. He was one of the few who could still get away with that.
We stepped out onto the terrace overlooking the mountains. The night air was cold, the moon a thin silver scar in the sky. Below, the valley stretched out in dark stillness, the wind carrying faint howls from distant patrols. Everything was too quiet lately.
"The rogues," I said after a moment, "are moving faster than before. Three attacks this month alone. The northern pack reported missing scouts."
"I heard." Zayn's tone turned serious. "They're organized this time. Someone's leading them."
My jaw tightened. "Then we'll find out who. Before they think we've grown weak."
We stood there in silence for a long time, the cold biting through my armor. I thought of the council's words again—'she should have been executed.'
They didn't understand. They didn't see the look in her eyes when she begged to be freed. Or the way she trembled and yet somehow stood her ground in a room full of wolves. Human. Fragile. Yet unyielding. Why did that linger in my mind like a curse of its own?
Zayn glanced sideways at me. "You're still thinking about her, aren't you?"
I said nothing.
"She's gone, Draven. You sent her home. It's done."
"Then why doesn't it feel done?" I muttered under my breath.
He sighed, long and low. "Because the curse never lets go of what it touches. You, of all people, should know that."
He left me there with that truth echoing in the cold air. I looked out over the valley again, toward the direction of her village, far beyond the fog and forest. She was probably safe by now. Eating whatever humans ate. Sleeping in her own bed. And yet…
Somewhere deep inside me, a restless part stirred, a pull I couldn't name, something that made the night feel heavier. The council feared a human girl. But what they should fear was the thing inside their king.
***
The morning broke gray and cold, the kind that sank through fur and armor alike. The fortress walls were wrapped in mist, the air carrying the faint tang of pine and iron from the mountains.
By the time Zayn entered the courtyard, I was already saddling my horse. "You're early," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"I've been awake," I replied flatly, pulling the reins tight. "We're riding out. The eastern border patrol reported damaged fences and missing livestock. I want to see it myself."
He didn't argue. He knew better than to suggest I send someone else. A king who ruled wolves didn't sit behind marble walls while his pack bled.
We rode out through the gates, the wind biting at our faces. The forests stretched endlessly, thick evergreens, dark earth, the occasional glint of running water cutting through rock. Every sound felt sharper out here, even the scents are cleaner.
It reminded me why I tolerated this throne, this curse, this endless cycle of politics and isolation. Out here, I wasn't the cursed king. I was just Draven, Alpha of Ghost Moon, bound to protect his people.
When we reached the outer village, the scent of smoke and damp wood filled the air. Wolves in human form worked to rebuild barricades along the stream that cut through their territory. Their heads bowed as we approached, murmuring, "My King."
"Report," I said to the head sentry.
He shifted uneasily. "Two calves missing from the western fields, sire. We tracked the scent, rogues, likely from the shadow ridge. The patrol followed but lost trail near the waterfall."
"Casualties?"
"None, sire."
"Good. Strengthen the barriers, double the patrols near the ridge. If they return, I want them brought in alive."
The sentry hesitated. "Alive?"
I gave him a cold look. "Alive. I want answers, not corpses."
He bowed deeply and retreated.
Zayn dismounted beside me, folding his arms. "You're too lenient," he muttered. "Rogues only understand death."
"Death doesn't teach," I said. "It only silences."
He sighed. "You sound like your mother."
I shot him a glare, but he only grinned. "Don't look at me like that, Your Majesty. You're the one quoting mercy now."
"I'm not merciful," I said, mounting again. "I'm practical."