Chapter 186

Chapter 186
Freya‘s pov.

The door to my chambers shut with a heavy click, sealing me in quiet. For the first time since the valley, I stood alone—no voices, no stares, no judgment. Just me and the echo of everything that had happened.
I peeled off my clothes and stepped beneath the shower. The water was hot, biting, a welcome sting that grounded me in the present. It washed the grime from my skin, but not the ache from my chest.  Arius vanished into sacrifice. I pressed my palms to the wall, water streaming down my back, and whispered to no one, “Why does it always cost so much?”
When the steam grew too thick to breathe, I shut off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. My reflection in the mirror was raw-eyed, vulnerable. I let out a sharp breath and forced myself to meet my own gaze. Pull it together, Freya.
Reyna’s voice curled through me, steady as a heartbeat. You’re not alone. Not anymore. We’re with you.
Hera followed, warmer, coaxing. It’s time we talk. About what comes next.
I sat on the edge of the bed, hair damp against my shoulders, and answered aloud, “Next? You mean everything I’m not ready for?”
You’re stronger than you think, Reyna said. You’ll be a queen like no other. Wolves will remember your name.
Fear prickled my spine. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. Being queen means leading. Means deciding who lives, who dies, what path everyone follows. What if I’m not enough? What if I fail them?”
Hera’s voice sharpened, cutting through doubt. You’ve already fought battles no one else could have survived. You brought us back. You’ve carried burdens that would have broken anyone else. That’s not weakness—it’s proof you can rule.
Tears burned my throat. “But what if I don’t want to rule?”
Then rule anyway, Hera pressed. Because if not you, who? Dorian cannot do it alone. Tiberius cannot. It has always been you. You were chosen because you’re capable of more than fear.
Reyna soothed, And think of what good you can do. Imagine healing the divide between wolves and hunters. Imagine giving our people hope again. Imagine the strength of a queen who has known both love and loss, and survived them both.
I closed my eyes. Their faith steadied me. Slowly, I nodded. “Then I won’t run. But I won’t rush, either. Not yet. First, I need to see the packs with my own eyes. Meet them. Understand their joys, their grief, their expectations. I want to know my mother’s people. I want to bridge the gap with the hunters. And I need…” My voice broke. “I need time to know myself, too.”
Reyna’s approval hummed through me. That’s wisdom, not fear.
Hera chuckled. And if words fail you, well… you’ve never been shy about other weapons.
That earned a shaky laugh from me. “So I’ll dress the part, hm?”
I stood, pulling open the wardrobe. If I had to face Dorian and Tiberius tonight, I’d face them as more than a trembling girl. I chose a gown that clung in all the right places, black velvet dipping low at the neckline. My hair I left loose, curling into soft waves. My lips I painted crimson, bold enough to silence any doubts. When I caught my reflection again, I almost didn’t recognize her—the queen I could be.
Courage surged. I straightened my spine, shoulders square, and opened the door.
The hall outside hummed with tension. Voices, sharp and low, carried from the chamber ahead. When I entered, I saw Tiberius and Dorian squared off, the air between them crackling with argument. But their words died the instant they saw me.
Their jaws slackened. Their eyes drank me in, wide and unguarded.
Cassian’s voice broke the silence as he appeared behind me. “Well, well. Why the deadly quiet?” He glanced between them, then at me. One brow arched high. “Ah. I see. You brought out the heavy artillery.” He clapped Dorian on the shoulder, smirked at Tiberius, then tipped his head at me. “Good luck, boys. I’ll bow out before I melt.” With a laugh, he slipped away, shutting the door firmly behind him.
I crossed the room with regal steps, letting the silence linger, letting them see me not just as their Freya but as something more. I sat gracefully, folded my hands, and asked, “So. You wanted to speak with me?”
Dorian’s voice was rougher than usual, his eyes still fixed on me. “Right now, I’d rather do something else entirely.”
Tiberius jabbed him lightly in the ribs. “Focus. Yes, Freya—we need to talk.”
He was the one to begin. “We are partners in this life. Equals. Decisions should be shared, not made in shadows. Do you agree?”
I met his gaze, steady. “I do. I should have spoken with you before leaving. At the very least, I should not have vanished without warning. Some choices are mine alone, but this one touched all of us. I should have acted more responsibly.”
His expression softened. “Then we agree. No more secrets.”
I nodded. “No more secrets. And I have something to say. I need time. I want to visit the packs, to mend ties with hunters, to build alliances that will outlast us. I want to know my mother’s kin. I want to understand my people before I wear a crown. Most of all, I need time to know myself.”
Tiberius leaned back, considering, then inclined his head. “Fair. I can’t argue with that.”
Dorian, though, frowned. “So you’re refusing me? Refusing to be my queen?”
I reached for his hand. “Not refusing. Just… not yet. I’ll advise you, I’ll stand beside you, but I won’t be crowned until I’ve earned it.”
“Why not both?” he pressed. “Be crowned now and still do those things. Why delay?”
Tiberius cut in, voice sharp. “Don’t push her. Her reasons are sound. She’s been caged too long. She needs space to stand on her own.”
Frustration twisted Dorian’s face. He dragged a hand through his hair. I rose and placed my palms on his chest. “Dorian, you don’t need to fear. You and Tiberius—you’re my only ones. My only loves. Nothing will change that. I just need to breathe without the weight of a crown for a while.”
He caught my wrists, lifted them to his lips, kissed them like a vow. His eyes were pained. “Freya, how can I believe that when I saw what I saw?”
Tiberius stiffened. “What did you see?”
I exhaled shakily. “I made a mistake. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t desire. It was… comfort. A desperate attempt to ease someone’s pain. But it was foolish. Reckless. And it won’t happen again.”
Dorian’s voice was ice. “So what, Freya? You’ll kiss anyone who looks broken?”
Tiberius’s eyes snapped wide. “What?”
“I said I was sorry!” My voice rose, raw. “I was wrong, I know. But will you both crucify me for one mistake?”
Tiberius’s jaw worked. He looked ready to lash out, then shut his mouth and turned on his heel, leaving the chamber in silence.
The quiet was heavier than anger. I sank down, burying my face in my hands.
Dorian’s voice was low when it came. “You know… Tiberius has never wavered. Never doubted you. Never left. He is constant, and it burns me because he makes me look lesser. But it’s true.”
Tears blurred my sight. “I know. I’ve wronged him. I’ve wronged you both.”
He stepped closer, crouching until his eyes caught mine. “Do you know he was denied back into the hunters’ tribunal? Denied because he gave it up for you—because when you ran, he had no choice but to follow?”
“Stop,” I whispered. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think any of it has been easy? You of all people should know how much I’ve suffered, how much I’ve given for others. For you. So don’t stand there and tell me I don’t understand the cost.”
His gaze was steady, sharp as steel. “We’ve all paid costs, Freya. But if you don’t learn from them, if you don’t grow—then what was the point of any of it?”
And with that, he rose, turned, and left me with only the sound of my own uneven breath.