Chapter 32

*Kael*

I don’t know when my feet brought me here. It was like my soul knew where it would find what it needed.

One moment, I was pacing the upper halls of the palace, the stone walls echoing my own ragged breaths. The next, I found myself standing outside a wooden door carved with interlocking vines and lunar sigils—Dax’s mother’s chambers—a place of wisdom, not politics, a place I hadn’t dared to visit in years.

My wolf flicked beneath my skin, ears pricked. He felt the sanctuary in the air, the quiet magic that wasn’t my crown or blade. He whined low, unsettled but curious.

The scent of crushed lavender and burning sage drifted through the crack under the door, soothing and strange.

I raised a hand to knock, and the door creaked open before I could.

“You look like a storm trying to hold back the rain,” she said, voice warm and knowing, as if she heard my wolf’s tremor.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.

She stepped aside with a gentle smile and motioned me in.

The room was a haven: low shelves lined with dried herbs in bundles of moonwort, wormwood, and rosemary; leather-bound tomes that whispered of old rituals; crystals and polished stones catching stray sunbeams. A copper pot hissed on a small hearth, sending up tendrils of steam fragrant with honey and root spices.

“Sit,” she said, voice soft.

I obeyed, sinking into a cushioned chair. My wolf shifted restlessly, then settled, sensing this was not a battlefield but a place to heal.

She poured a steaming cup of amber liquid—earthy, sweet, with a hint of mint—and placed it in my hands. The warmth seeped through the clay mug into my cold fingers.

“The council is circling like vultures,” I finally said. “They want my crown.”

She nodded, unsurprised. “They fear what they don’t understand, Kael. They believe leadership is a prize to snatch, not a burden to bear. There are far too few rulers who lack the understanding that to rule is about respect and love for those whom you are responsible for. Power and selfish desires have clouded over what being a true ruler was always meant to be. ”

I stared into the swirling tea, my reflection warping in the surface. “I rejected my mate. I broke the most sacred bond the Moon Goddess bestows. And now... I don’t know how to fix it.” My wolf growled low in my chest, echoing that fear.

Her expression softened. She leaned forward, her silver hair catching the light. “Do you want to?”

“More than anything.” The words tasted like ash.

She sat back, folding her hands on the table. “Then start there. Wanting is the beginning. Regret feeds nothing, but intention can move mountains and mend hearts.”

My throat tightened. “How do I reach her when I don’t even know where she is?” My wolf whined quietly, as if urging me to speak the truth.

She met my gaze, unwavering. “You don’t need to know her location. The bond still exists, battered though it may be. Send it life, not desperation or fear, but love and clarity. You send your truth.”

I blinked, tears stinging. “She’ll feel it?”

“She will.”

The weight of it pressed into my chest. All the words I’d left unsaid tangled in my mind: *I’m sorry, I was blind, You are my fate.* My wolf trembled under my skin, longing to howl her name.

“And what if she turns away?” I whispered. The fear of everything I had to lose, tumbling out.

“Then you still send it,” she said firmly. “Because even if she never speaks your name again, you will have been the male who tried. The male who changed.”

I glanced at her, seeing the lines of grief carved into her face—grief for her own mate, for the kingdom’s suffering, for the truth buried beneath lies. I had been blind for so long. I had so much to make up for.

“My father…” I began, voice cracking. “How could I not see? How could I be so blind to who he was, what he did? I let him shape me. I became the very thing I want to stand against.”

Her eyes were gentle. “We are all shaped by those who come before us, Kael. But you are not your father. You can choose differently. You still have time.”

My wolf snarled softly, as if agreeing.

I ran a hand through my hair. “The council wants me to show power at the summit,” I said. “But I don’t want their power. I want peace.”

She tilted her head. “Then show them what true power looks like. Strength does not shout. It stands firm in compassion. It endures. It heals. Be the leader who you were always meant to be.”

Silence settled between us, heavy with possibility and fear.

She rose and came around the table, placing a hand on mine. Her touch was steady, grounding. “You are not a bad male, Kael. Maybe a little lost, but not bad. Be the king your people need, not the one they fear. Be the mate she deserves—someone who loves fiercely, changes bravely, and keeps trying when all seems lost.”

My wolf howled low, rising within me like a vow.

I nodded, voice raw. “Tonight, I will try.”

She let me go, and I stood, every part of me trembling with hope and dread.

I left without saying another word, letting my feet take me where I needed to go.

I crossed to one of the courtyards and continued walking until I felt it. I felt like I was in a place where I could connect. I looked up at the moon, full and luminous—the same moon that had witnessed our first bond and my greatest mistake.

I closed my eyes and sent my intention into the night: *I am here. I am yours. I am sorry. Let me love you. Let me fix this.*

My wolf whined in relief. And I felt something warm within me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt something stir that wasn’t fear.

Hope.