Page 16 of Alpha’s Divine Claim

“I do this alone because I choose to. I always have. Feeding is the one time my control slips. I go weak. The hunger is in charge. A stranger forgets my face by morning. Anyone who actually knows me would remember my weakness forever.”

He doesn’t press. “All right.”

We walk together in silence for a while. Drakoria spreads out around us, high country under a wide sky, warmer and older than the forests back at Ash Hollow. I carry the same fire this family does, the fire that turns my eyes gold when I let it loose, even though I grew up a world away, in my father’s city under the red moon. Briarstone has always been half mine, family and strange at once.

Valen keeps close on my left, his eyes moving over the ground as we cross it, the high places, the long sight lines, the folds where a threat could wait. I let him watch for both of us. What I can’t stop tracking is him. He stands almost a head over me, all lean muscle, relaxed; not braced for a fight. He’s older than he looks. I don’t know by how much. Looking at him now, I don’t think a number would explain it. His heat fills the whole space at my side. My stride lengthens to match his, longer steps than I’d take walking alone.

Wanting to be near a man is new to me. Wanting anything for myself is newer.

The fortress rises in front of us now, black stone and high walls. Guards at the gate come to attention the moment they see me. I’m known here, the king’s niece. The gate opens before I say a word. We pass through, across the courtyard, into corridors of old black stone. Torch-brackets line the walls, the flames steady in air that doesn’t move. The stone smells of old smoke and pitch, a place kept warm for centuries. Dragon lines are cut into the lintels overhead, worn soft by hands and years. I walked these halls a hundred times as a girl. My feet know the turns before my eyes catch up. It’s grander than I remembered, warmer. Valen says nothing. His eyes go to the doors, the height of the ceilings, the number of guards.

We’re only partway down the corridor when Niko catches sight of us and crosses the hall, a scroll still tucked under one arm like he had somewhere else to be a moment ago. He’s a big man, dragon and angel both, faint scales catching the torchlight at his temples, old celestial fire banked low in his eyes. “My favorite niece,” he says, then catches himself. “Don’t tell the others I said that.” He takes my face in both hands, warm, unhurried. “What brings you all the way out here?”

Queen Saige is right behind him, wolf-shifter, fierce and warm. She pulls me in and holds on longer than a greeting needs. “How is Auriella?” Her voice goes soft on my mother’s name. She doesn’t let go until I answer.

“She’s well,” I say. “She sends her love.”

To this house I’m not something strange to be stared at. I’m Auriella’s girl, come home.

The family closes in around both of us. Rhonan reaches me first. “You couldn’t just visit,” he says. “You had to bring a crisis with you.”

“I could say the same about you, troublemaker.”

Evren already told him I was coming, so none of this surprises him. His mate Serena hugs me too, her arm through mine. Jarvald is a step behind, steady, already scanning the hall out of old habit, half managing the room without seeming to try. Seris pulls me into a hug and tells the others to let me breathe first. Vaela, the youngest, holds back at first, quieter than her siblings, watching from a step outside the circle until I cross to her myself and draw her in. They take me back like I never left. For a moment the years between visits fall away entirely.

When the greetings are done I bring Valen forward. “This is Valen, new to Ash Hollow.” Niko takes his measure like any king sizing up an unfamiliar face, then clasps his arm. “Whoever walks in at my niece’s side is welcome in my hall.”

Rhonan looks him over, a new face even to him. “How long have you been with the pack?”

“Not long.”

“Wolf?”

“Wolf.”

Rhonan’s eyes cut to me, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. Then he lets it go. He doesn’t push for more.

With the introductions done, Valen eases back from the center of the room and takes a place by the wall, where he can keep the doors in view.

Saige calls for a feast. The hall fills, long tables laid with platters and wine, more food than any of us could finish. They seat Valen next to me, because whoever walks in at my side eats at the king’s table. He eats quietly, eyes still moving over the room. I eat like the rest of them, the food rich and familiar on my tongue, letting Seris fill my plate past the point I’d stop her if we were anywhere else. The bread here is better than anything in my father’s kitchens. I’ve never told my mother that.

One of the cousins asks what it’s like living with a wolf pack.

“Loud,” I say. “Warm. Better than I expected.”

Saige leans in. “Do they treat you right?” Her attention stays steady on my face while I answer.

“They do.”

“And you’re eating?” Her voice drops, quieter than the question needs to be. With Valen sitting right there, she isn’t asking about dinner.

“I’m fine, Aunt Saige. I take care of myself.”

Seris tells the room about the summer Kaspian and I spent here as children, how we snuck into the throne room after dark on a dare and knocked over a suit of armor loud enough to wake half the fortress. The table roars.

“That was your idea,” I tell her. “I just took the blame for it.”

“You volunteered.”