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The silver chain bit into my wrist when I lunged for the door.
It snapped tight. Yanked me backward. Slammed me against the bedpost so hard my teeth rattled.
Pain shot up my arm. The cut on my side tore open again, warm blood soaking through the clean shirt somebody had forced over me while I was out.
"Open the damn door!" I shouted.
The guard outside didn't answer.
I looked down at the chain. Silver links. Thick enough to hold a wolf. My skin had already blistered underneath, and the room smelled like burnt pennies.
Great. Kidnapped by a king. Chained in a palace. Bleeding on furniture that probably cost more than my whole building.
Nia still needed her medicine.
I pressed my fingers against the cut and tried not to picture her face. Pale cheeks. Cracked lips. That little cough she kept pretending wasn't getting worse.
"Mara."
Ronan's voice came from behind me.
I spun around.
He stood beside the fireplace with one hand braced on the mantel. No guards. No court. No fancy audience waiting to watch me get torn apart. Just him in a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a fresh strip of white cloth wrapped around his palm.
My blood had done that.
The memory came back in ugly pieces. His teeth at my throat. His eyes gone gold. The roar in his chest. Then my blood hit the moon seal and the monster inside him backed off like I'd put a knife to its face.
His wolf had called me mate.
I hated that word already.
"You broke in," he said.
"You chained me to a bed. I think we're past pointing out bad manners."
His jaw tightened. "You stole the royal seal."
"Borrowed it."
"You cut three guards."
"They got in the way."
"You stabbed my captain."
"He was trying to break my arm."
"You ran across my roof."
"That part was fun."
For half a second his mouth almost moved. Not a smile. More like his face had forgotten he was supposed to be angry.
Then the gold flashed in his eyes.
My back hit the bedpost but I kept my chin up. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Look at me like you're deciding where to bite."
His fingers curled against the mantel. The wood cracked beneath them.
"You have no idea what I'm deciding."
"Sure I do. You want the seal back. You want to know why my blood stopped your little moon tantrum. And you want to punish me for making you look weak in front of your nobles."
"My moon-rage isn't a tantrum."
"It tried to eat my throat. Forgive me if I don't call it a personality trait."
He pushed away from the fireplace.
I raised my hands, chain rattling. "Stay there."
He stopped.
That scared me more than if he'd kept walking.
Ronan Blackthorn was the kind of man people obeyed before he finished speaking. He'd caught me on a roof while half out of his mind and still moved like he knew exactly where every bone in my body was. If I made one wrong move I wouldn't get a second chance.
So I made my voice sharper instead.
"Where's the seal?"
"Safe."
"And my knife?"
"Confiscated."
"My boots?"
"Also confiscated."
"My bag?"
"Empty."
My stomach dropped.
The small leather pouch had held my lock picks, a roll of wire, two stolen coins, and the folded note with Nia's medicine list. The note didn't matter by itself. The address at the bottom did.
Grayharbor. Dockside district. Vale building.
If his people had searched it they'd know exactly where she was.
I forced my face still. "You searched my things?"
"I searched you for weapons."
"That's not what I asked."
"Your sister is sick."
The room shrank around me.
Ronan watched my face. He'd been waiting for that reaction.
I hated him for noticing.
"She's fine," I said.
"You climbed into the royal palace with a bloody sleeve and a list of fever medicine."
"Maybe I like collecting prescriptions."
"Mara."
The way he said my name made it sound like a warning. Or a hand closing around my throat.
I pulled against the chain. "If you touched her—"
"I didn't."
"If your men went near her—"
"They didn't."
"If you even think about using her to make me talk—"
"I said they didn't."
His voice cracked across the room.
The fire jumped. Somewhere under the stone floor a wolf howled.
Not Ronan's wolf.
The sound rolled up through the palace, low and wet, and every hair on my arms lifted. Ronan went still. His head turned toward the floor.
The chain around my wrist gave one sharp jerk.
I looked at him. "That was the second one, wasn't it?"
His eyes went cold. "You heard it."
"Hard to miss. Your basement is screaming."
Another howl tried to rise but it broke into a choking growl.
Ronan crossed the room before I could blink. He crouched in front of me, close enough that I smelled smoke, leather, and the faint metallic scent of my blood on his shirt.
"What did you hear below the throne room?" he asked.
"Nothing useful."
"You heard a wolf answer mine."
"Then maybe ask the wolf."
His hand came up. I flinched before I could stop myself.
He noticed that too.
Instead of touching me he grabbed the chain and pulled it loose from the bedpost. The silver burned through the glove on his hand. Smoke curled from the leather.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Taking you somewhere safer."
"This room has one door and no windows I can reach. It's already a prison."
"You think this is a prison?"
"The chain gave me a clue."
He unlocked the cuff.
The moment the silver left my skin blood rushed back into my hand. Pins stabbed my fingers. I sucked in a breath and rubbed my wrist.
Ronan looked at the red marks. His expression changed, just a little.
"Don't," I said.
"Don't what?"
"Feel guilty. It doesn't suit you."
"I don't feel guilty."
"Good. I hate awkward silence."
He reached for my arm.
I slapped his hand away.
The room went quiet.
Ronan stared at me. Then at my hand.
"You just hit the king."
"You grabbed me first."
"I was helping you stand."
"Try asking next time."
His nostrils flared. The gold returned to his eyes for one dangerous second.
I took a step back but my injured side folded. My knee nearly gave out.
Ronan caught me around the waist.
Heat punched through the thin shirt between us. His grip locked tight, keeping me upright. My palms landed against his chest. Under them his heartbeat slammed hard and fast.
His wolf made a deep sound.
Mine answered.
I froze.
I didn't have a wolf. Not the way he did. I'd never shifted, never heard a second voice in my head, never felt claws waiting under my skin.
But that sound had come from me.
Ronan's face dropped close to mine. "You heard it too."
"I heard you being dramatic."
"Liar."
"King."
For one stupid second neither of us moved.
Then he let go like my skin had burned him.
I caught myself against the bedpost. "Where are you taking me?"
"To the council chamber."
"No."
"That wasn't a question."
"Then here's my answer anyway. No."
He opened the door.
Two guards stood outside. Both looked at my wrist then quickly looked away. That was a promising sign. Maybe they'd seen what happened on the roof and decided I was too much trouble to stare at.
Ronan stepped into the hall. "Walk."
I stayed where I was.
He turned his head. "Mara."
"I want my sister's medicine."
"You'll get it."
"Now."
"After the council meeting."
"Then you're gonna have a dead thief on your hands before the meeting ends."
His gaze dropped to my wound.
"You won't die from that cut."
"Maybe not. Nia might die waiting for the medicine you stole from me."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His eyes narrowed. "You think I stole it?"
"Your men took my bag."
"And my physician has already been sent to Grayharbor."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"You sent a physician to my sister?"
"I sent medicine. A physician is going with it."
"Why?"
"Because she's part of this."
The relief hit first. Then suspicion crushed it flat.
"What does that mean?"
"It means your sister is leverage if someone else finds her first."
My stomach twisted. "Someone else?"
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I stepped into the hallway. The palace walls were black stone, polished until the torchlight slid across them. Guards lined the corridor. Nobles watched from open doors, their whispers following me like flies.
Thief.
Mate.
Witch-blood.
I kept walking.
Ronan stayed beside me, close enough to stop me and far enough to pretend I had a choice.
At the end of the hall a tall man in a gray coat leaned against one of the carved pillars. He had pale blond hair, a narrow smile, and a silver wolf pin on his collar.
He looked me over like I was an object in a shop window.
"So this is the famous thief," he said.
Ronan's voice turned flat. "Drake. Move."
Drake Thorn didn't move. "The council is waiting. They'd like to know why their king has locked a human woman in his private wing."
"She's not human," Ronan said.
The words landed harder than they should have.
Drake's smile sharpened. "No? Then what is she?"
Ronan looked at me.
I saw the question in his face. He wanted me to answer it for him.
I gave him nothing.
Drake chuckled. "Careful, cousin. If you claim her as your mate you'll need to prove it. The law is very clear. A king without a recognized queen can be challenged before the next moonrise."
Ronan stepped in front of me. "Are you challenging me?"
"I'm reminding you of the rules."
"You always hide behind rules."
"And you always hide behind your temper."
The guards shifted.
Drake's eyes slid past Ronan to me. "Tell me, Mara Vale. Did he force you to call yourself his mate?"
I looked at Ronan's back. Broad shoulders. Tense neck. One wrong word and the room would fill with teeth.
"He didn't force me," I said.
Drake's brows lifted.
I kept going. "He just chained me to a bed and announced it in front of half the palace. Very romantic."
A few guards choked on their laughter.
Ronan glanced over his shoulder at me. His face said I'd just made my life worse.
Drake laughed openly. "I like her."
"You don't get to," Ronan said.
"That sounds almost jealous."
"Keep talking."
"Gladly."
Ronan moved so fast Drake's smile vanished. He had Drake by the throat and slammed him into the pillar. Stone cracked behind the man's head.
I grabbed Ronan's sleeve. "Hey. No killing cousins in the hallway. It makes the palace look unstable."
His grip tightened.
Drake's boots scraped the floor. "See? This is why they won't keep you on the throne."
Ronan's eyes flashed gold.
I shoved something cold and metal against his ribs.
He jerked like I'd pressed a hot coal to his skin. His grip broke. Drake dropped to the floor, coughing.
For one sharp second Ronan stared at the seal in my hand.
He hadn't seen me take it back.
Neither had I.
The metal pulsed against my palm.
A thin line of red light crawled across its carved surface, pointing toward the floor below us.
The second wolf howled.
This time the palace answered.
Every torch went out.
Someone screamed in the dark.
Ronan grabbed my hand. "Don't move."
"Wasn't planning to."
A blade cut through the air where my head had been.
Ronan pulled me down. The knife struck the wall behind us with a hard thunk.
Guards shouted. Steel flashed. Something heavy crashed into a table.
I crawled toward the wall, still clutching the seal. Ronan's hand found the back of my neck and shoved me lower.
"Stay down."
"I hate that order."
"For once, listen."
A second blade flew.
Ronan caught it.
The assassin dropped from the rafters, face wrapped in black cloth. Ronan met him halfway. They hit the floor together, claws tearing through fabric, snarls shaking the dark.
I felt the seal heat up.
The red line beneath my fingers split into two directions. One pointed down. The other pointed toward the east wing.
Toward the gate.
Toward Grayharbor.
My stomach turned cold.
Ronan was still fighting. The assassin drove a short blade toward his throat. Ronan caught the attack but another shadow moved behind him.
I didn't think.
I drove the seal into the shadow's knee.
The man screamed.
Light exploded from the metal. Red and white and burning. It threw the assassin backward into the wall so hard the stone cracked. His body slid to the floor and didn't move.
The torches flared back to life.
Ronan stood over the first assassin, claws dripping. The man's throat was open. His eyes were empty.
Drake was on his feet, sword drawn, staring at me.
Every guard in the hall was staring at me.
I looked down at the seal.
The red light was gone. The metal was cold again. But my palm was burned, skin blistered in the exact shape of the moon carved into its surface.
Ronan turned.
His eyes were still gold. His shirt was torn. Blood streaked his jaw.
He walked toward me.
I should've run.
I couldn't move.
He stopped in front of me and took the seal from my hand. His fingers brushed the burn.
"You shouldn't be able to hold this," he said.
I swallowed. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
"You used it."
"I saved your life."
"You activated the king's seal without a bloodline."
"You're welcome."
His hand closed around my wrist. Not hard. Just enough to keep me there.
"What are you?" he asked.
I didn't have an answer.
Drake stepped forward. "She's a witch."
Ronan's grip tightened.
"Or she's something worse," Drake continued. "Either way, the council will demand her execution. You can't protect her from that."
Ronan looked at me.
I looked back.
For one second I saw something in his face that wasn't anger or suspicion or hunger.
It was doubt.
Then it was gone.
He let go of my wrist and turned to Drake. "Call the council. Tell them I'm bringing my mate to stand trial."
My blood went cold.
Drake smiled. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
He walked away.
The guards closed in around us.
Ronan didn't look at me again.
"Move," he said.
I moved.
But my burned hand curled into a fist, and the ghost of the seal's light still pulsed behind my eyes.
Whatever I was, they were about to find out.
And I had a feeling none of us were gonna like the answer.