Chapter 18

Nadine's pov

The door had barely stopped swaying from Cassian’s exit when another knock came, sharper this time. I stiffened, my pulse still unsteady, the memory of that glowing mark burned behind my eyes.

The door creaked open and a maid stepped in, her nose tilted higher than the crown of her head. She didn’t bow, didn’t avert her gaze like servants used to when they addressed me years ago. No, this one looked at me as though I were something dragged in from the mud, unworthy of even being in these walls.

“His Majesty says you are to prepare,” she said curtly. “You will accompany him to the training grounds.”

I blinked, disoriented, still clutching the edges of my robe. “The training grounds?”

Her mouth twitched, almost a smirk. “That is what I said.”

The casual disdain in her tone needled under my skin. I’d endured the glares, the whispers about Seraphine’s ghost, the weight of every servant’s disapproval since being forced into the Luna’s chambers. But this, this direct insolence, sparked something in me I hadn’t felt in years.

I rose slowly, my wolf pushing forward, not in dominance but in warning. The maid’s eyes flickered, a hint of satisfaction glinting there. She wanted me to snap, to give her the excuse to call me arrogant, undeserving, weak.

Instead, I straightened my shoulders and let the ice slip into my voice. “You may leave. I will prepare myself.”

Her nostrils flared, but she dipped into a mocking half-curtsy and swept out of the room, the door closing harder than necessary behind her.

The silence that followed pressed in heavy, but I didn’t crumble under it. No, I paced. My hands trembled, not with fear this time, but with fury. Madden was parading me to the training grounds? To be what, another spectacle? A caged wolf trotted out for the kingdom to sneer at?

The thought of standing beside him, of facing the warriors’ stares, made my stomach twist. Yet beneath that fury, another thought lingered. Training grounds. Soldiers. Escape routes.

I dragged in a breath, steadying myself. Cassian’s words slithered back into my head, about freedom, about owing him. My chest tightened. No. I wouldn’t accept his leash, not even for escape. But if Madden thought he could use me like a trophy, he was gravely mistaken.

My eyes drifted to the mirror. I barely recognized the woman staring back. Pale skin, bruised shadows under her eyes, hair falling wild over her shoulders. Yet beneath it all, the scars, those strange, glowing lines that had surfaced under the moonlight. My wolf stirred, restless, curious.

“Why now?” I whispered to my reflection. “Why would they appear now?”

No answer came. Only the pounding of my heart and the faint memory of Cassian’s glowing mark, eerily similar.

I tore my gaze away, forcing myself to focus. If Madden wanted me present, then I would show up. But I would not bow. Not to the maid. Not to the council. Not even to him.

The door opened again, not Cassian, not the insolent maid. Another servant, this one quieter, eyes downcast, carrying a neatly folded gown. She placed it silently on the bed and left without a word.

The gown was dark, simple compared to Seraphine’s silks, but still fine enough to mark me as someone standing beside a king. I slipped into it, the fabric heavy against my skin. My hands smoothed over the scars on my arms one last time before I gathered myself.

I would go. I would walk beside him. And I would not let anyone, not even Madden, see me bend.

The gown felt heavier with every step I took, like iron chains disguised as silk. I tied my hair back, splashed cool water over my face until the puffiness around my eyes dulled, and forced myself into composure. If Madden wanted me dragged out as a spectacle, I would walk with my chin high, even if my heart trembled beneath my ribs.

When I opened the door, three maids were already waiting. Their gazes flicked over me with the kind of sharpness meant to cut. They weren’t here out of courtesy, I realized at once. They were guards in silk aprons, stationed to keep me from veering off.

“Come,” one of them said, curt as a whip.

I followed. My footsteps echoed faintly down the long corridor, every step measured, deliberate. Their eyes burned into my back, their whispers brushing against my ears. I knew what they said without hearing the words clearly: traitor mate, cursed Luna, Seraphine’s shadow.

The palace air changed as we drew closer to the training grounds. The muffled clash of steel and barked orders vibrated through the walls before we even stepped outside. My wolf stirred uneasily, pressing against me.

The sun was high when we emerged into the open courtyard. Rows of warriors lined the field, sweat glistening on their brows, their massive bodies moving in rhythm with each shouted command. The scent of iron, sweat, and raw dominance filled the air.

And there, at the far edge, stood Madden.

Even from a distance, he radiated power. The sight of him made the training grounds pause for a beat, as though every warrior unconsciously bent to his presence. His gaze found me immediately, pinning me like prey.

My steps faltered. The bond surged violently, an invisible thread snapping taut between us. My breath hitched, my body reacting before my mind could fight it. The air thickened, heavy, suffocating.

I clenched my fists. No. I will not yield.

But the pull only grew stronger as I neared him. Heat flared through my veins, my wolf pressing against the bond in desperate recognition. My vision blurred. I swayed, the ground tilting under my feet.

“No…” The whisper tore from my lips before I could stop it.

The last thing I saw was Madden striding toward me, fury flashing across his face as my knees buckled.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground. The impact I braced for never came. Instead, his scent crashed over me, wild forest, smoke, and something darker that was uniquely him.

My body betrayed me, leaning into his chest, trembling but unwilling to pull away. The bond pulsed violently between us, alive, hungry, undeniable.

“Nadine,” he growled, low and dangerous, but his grip on me was not cruel, it was steady, protective.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his. They burned with the fury of a man who wanted to hate, who wanted to punish, but couldn’t sever the chain tethering him to me.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he whispered, voice rough and unyielding.

“No matter how far you run, your soul is mine.”

The world tilted again, his words sinking into me like a brand, burning deeper than any scar.

And then, darkness swallowed me whole.