Chapter 7 The Alpha’s Wing
The walk to Kael’s private wing felt nothing like any path Lina had taken before—not even through the cursed forest. This corridor hummed with quiet power. The guards stationed here were sharper, stronger, their eyes tracking every shift in the air.
Kael walked ahead of her with a silent command that made wolves flatten their ears without a single word spoken. Lina noticed it instantly.
This is where he rules.
She wondered if he brought anyone here.
Her wolf answered immediately.
No. Not anyone. Only us.
She pressed that thought down, but the heat of it lingered under her skin.
Riven strolled ahead, hands tucked behind him like he was trying—and failing—to look relaxed. “If Theron sees you bringing her into your wing,” he muttered to Kael, “he’s going to choke on his own arrogance.”
“Let him,” Kael said evenly.
Lina couldn’t help but ask, “Does he really hold that much authority?”
Riven barked a humorless laugh. “Authority? No. Influence? Unfortunately, yes.”
He waved a hand dramatically. “Our beloved Councilor can turn a whisper into a political earthquake.”
Kael shot him a warning look, but didn’t disagree.
They reached a pair of tall doors reinforced with iron bands. Kael pushed them open, and warm light flooded out.
Lina took a step inside—and froze.
His wing wasn’t cold stone and shadows like she expected.
It was… beautiful.
An open hall stretched before her, with tall windows draped in dark fabric, soft rugs layered over stone, and lanterns glowing in golden pools of light. A wide hearth dominated one side of the room, embers glowing like captured sunsets.
And the scent—gods.
Her wolf inhaled sharply.
Alpha. Warm. Home.
Kael gestured inside. “This is where you’ll stay.”
Lina turned slowly, taking in the polished wood, the shelves filled with old books, the large table covered in maps. It wasn’t extravagant—but everything felt purposeful, grounded, alive with his presence.
“I can’t stay here,” she said quietly. “This is your space.”
“Exactly,” Kael replied. “My space. The one place I can guarantee Theron won’t touch you.”
Riven wandered toward the fireplace and flopped into a chair with all the grace of a wolf pup. “Trust me, princess. If the Alpha wants you here, you’re here.”
Lina stiffened at the word. “I’m not—”
“You are,” Riven said. “Council politics aside, bloodlines don’t lie.”
Kael shot him a sharp look. “Enough.”
Riven huffed and crossed his arms.
Kael guided Lina further inside. “There’s a guest room through there,” he said, pointing to a hallway. “Clean bedding, fresh clothes, a bath.”
A bath.
Lina’s steps faltered.
She hadn’t had warm water in centuries. Not water heated by hand, not water scented with herbs or steam rising in gentle waves.
Her breath caught.
Kael noticed. “I can have Elara draw one for you.”
Lina shook her head. “Later.”
She wasn’t ready to be alone yet—not with the Council stirring and the witch’s warning still echoing in her bones.
Kael moved closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She swallowed. “Everything.”
He didn’t push her. Instead, he stepped to the window overlooking the courtyard and waited, letting her come to him in her own time.
She did.
Wolves were training below, their shouts and strikes rhythmic under the brightening afternoon sky. She watched them silently.
“They look… disciplined,” she murmured.
“Trained since they were boys,” Kael said. “Most were told the Valerius were monsters.”
Lina’s throat tightened. “And what would they do if they knew I was one?”
Kael’s voice dropped to a quiet, controlled edge. “They’ll learn the truth. And if anyone dares threaten you—”
He stopped, jaw tightening.
Riven finished for him from behind: “—he’ll tear out their throats. Politely, of course.”
Kael threw a glare over his shoulder, but Riven only smirked.
Lina turned back to the window. “I don’t want to start a war.”
“You didn’t start anything,” Kael replied. “You were born into one.”
His words pierced straight through her.
She didn’t respond.
Kael stepped closer again, the heat of him brushing her arm. “There is something you should see.”
Before she could ask, he held out his hand.
Lina looked at it—strong, steady, scarred from decades of battle.
Hesitant, she placed her palm in his.
It fit too perfectly.
A spark shot up her arm, hot and bright. Kael inhaled sharply. Lina’s wolf lifted its head with a low, sweeping purr.
Riven groaned loud enough to be dramatic. “Sweet moon. The bond is screaming.”
Kael ignored him.
“Come,” he said softly.
He guided her deeper into the hall, down a corridor lined with wolf statues—each one different. Some snarling. Some watching. Some carved mid-leap, as if frozen between worlds.
“What is this place?” Lina asked.
“My family’s hall,” Kael said. “Each Alpha leaves something of their wolf behind.”
Riven added, “Most leave scars on the kingdom too.”
Kael didn’t deny it.
At the end of the hall, they stopped before an enormous wooden door with a carved crescent moon.
Kael glanced at her. “This room is private. No one enters without my permission.”
“Not even Riven?” Lina teased gently.
Riven scoffed. “I don’t enter without armor.”
Kael pushed the door open.
Inside was a vast, circular chamber lit with hundreds of small lanterns.
Each lantern glowed with soft light, floating gently in the air like captured stars.
Lina gasped.
“What is this?”
Kael walked to the center of the room. “This is where my ancestors kept records of… unusual magic.”
Her wolf stirred instantly.
Lina slowly walked around the room, eyes scanning the floating lights. Each one held an object inside: an old medallion, a broken fang, pieces of ancient weapons, tattered journals bound in old leather.
“Magic the Dominion suppressed?” she asked quietly.
“Magic we didn’t understand,” Kael corrected.
“And you keep it… safe?” Lina’s voice softened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked directly at her. “Because unanswered questions are the most dangerous kind.”
Her breath caught.
Riven, lingering by the doorway, muttered, “He means he collects shiny cursed garbage like a magpie.”
Kael didn’t even look at him. “One of these records mentions the Valerius pact. The original pact. The one your father made.”
Lina froze.
“Show me.”
Kael nodded and stepped to a lantern hovering slightly higher than the others. With a subtle gesture of his fingers, the lantern drifted down, the glass dissolving like smoke.
Inside was a scroll sealed with a symbol Lina hadn’t seen since she was a child:
The Valerius Mooncrest.
Her knees nearly weakened. Kael caught her elbow before she could lose balance.
Lina traced the symbol with one trembling fingertip. “Where did you find this?”
“It was hidden in my father’s study,” Kael said. “He kept it locked away.”
“Why?”
Kael’s expression darkened. “Because if anyone in the Council saw proof that the Valerius didn’t betray the Dominion… his father would have been exposed. As would mine.”
Lina’s breath stilled.
“You knew?” she whispered.
“I suspected.” His voice was low, tormented. “I didn’t understand the truth until today.”
The silence between them stretched heavy and raw.
“You were never the threat,” he said softly. “They were.”
Something in Lina broke—not painfully, but like a lock snapping after centuries of pressure.
Her voice shook. “My people died for a lie.”
Kael’s hand closed around hers again. Not to command. Not to restrain.
But to keep her grounded.
“To rewrite that lie,” he said, “we need to show the kingdom the truth.”
Lina met his gaze.
“And you think I can help you do that?”
“No,” Kael said.
Her chest tightened—
Until he added, with quiet certainty:
“I think we can help each other.”
Her wolf surged forward.
Ours. This is the one.
Kael stepped back slightly, giving her space. “You should rest. Tonight will be… complicated.”
“What happens tonight?”
“The Council will make their first move,” Kael said. “And I will make mine.”
Riven sighed from the doorway. “This is going to end with someone getting punched.”
Kael didn’t deny it.
Lina exhaled slowly. “I’ll rest. But Kael…”
He raised a brow. “Yes?”
“I don’t need protection the way you think.”
A small, rare smile curved at his mouth. “I know.”
“Then why insist?”
He stepped closer—so close she could feel the breath of his words against her cheek.
“Because I protect what matters.”
Her heartbeat stumbled.
Riven covered his face. “I am leaving now before I vomit.”
Kael finally stepped back. “Your room is through there. Call if you need anything.”
Lina walked toward the guest chamber, her pulse still unsteady, her wolf still humming with warmth.
Just before she stepped inside, she glanced back.
Kael was still watching her.
He didn’t look away.
And for the first time in her life—not three centuries ago, not behind the Veil, not lost in the forest—Lina felt something she thought she’d never feel again.
Hope.