Chapter 25
SERAPHINA
I wake to Azriel bouncing on my bed, already dressed and vibrating with excitement.
“Mama! Is it time yet? Can we go see Papa’s army?”
I groan and pull the pillow over my face. It’s barely dawn, and my son is ready to spend the entire day with Kieran.
A day I suspect has more to do with keeping me away from Cassius than any genuine tour.
“Which might not be a bad thing if you think about it,” Luna mutters lazily in the back of my mind.
I roll my eyes. “Sometimes you forget what he did to us.”
She doesn’t reply, settling back as if relieved to avoid the conversation.
I throw off the covers and ruffle Azriel’s hair. “Give me a few minutes to get ready, sweetheart.”
“But we’re going to miss it!” He bounces harder. “Papa said we’re leaving early!”
“We won’t miss anything. I promise.” I slide out of bed and move to the window. Snow is falling again, thick flakes that make the training grounds below look like something from a painting. Somewhere out there, Kieran is probably already awake, probably already planning every detail of this tour.
My stomach twists—part dread, part something I refuse to name.
I dress carefully in practical riding clothes—dark trousers, a fitted burgundy tunic, and sturdy boots. Nothing fancy, but the tunic brings out my eyes and fits well enough that I don’t look like I’m trying too hard. Or trying at all. I’m definitely not thinking about how Kieran will see me.
Mira helps me with my hair, braiding it back from my face in a style that won’t come loose if we’re outdoors all day. “You look lovely, Princess,” she says softly.
“Thank you.” I study my reflection, then look away quickly. The burgundy does bring out the violet in my eyes. The cut of the tunic shows my figure without being inappropriate. I look… good.
I hate that I care.
When I emerge, Azriel is already waiting by the door, practically vibrating. A knock announces Kieran’s arrival, and my heart does something stupid in my chest.
I open the door.
He’s dressed for the outdoors in black leather and a fur-lined cloak, looking every inch the warrior king. His ice-blue eyes sweep over me, and something flashes in their depths before his expression goes neutral.
But I saw it. That flicker of heat before he locked it down.
“Ready?” His voice is carefully controlled.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Azriel rushes past me. “I’m ready! Let’s go!”
Kieran’s expression softens when he looks at our son, and something in my chest aches at the sight. “Eager, are we?”
“Commander Thane said the Northern wolves are the best fighters in all four kingdoms!” Azriel bounces. “Is that true?”
“It’s true.” Kieran places a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, the gesture natural and easy. “And today you’ll see why.”
We make our way through the fortress and out into the cold morning. Snow crunches under our boots as we walk toward the training grounds beyond the main walls. The air bites at my exposed skin, and I pull my cloak tighter.
Warriors are already assembled when we arrive, and they straighten immediately when they see Kieran approaching.
“Your Majesty.” Commander Thane bows. “The battalions are ready for demonstration.”
“Good.” Kieran guides Azriel to a raised platform overlooking the training field. “Stand here where you can see everything.”
I follow them up, hyperaware of Kieran’s proximity. The platform is small—meant for commanders to oversee drills, and standing this close makes my skin prickle with awareness. His scent hits me despite the cold air—pine and snow and something that makes Luna stir restlessly.
Below us, warriors begin their demonstrations. First in human form—hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, formations that flow like water. Azriel watches with wide eyes, asking endless questions that Kieran answers patiently.
“Why do they move like that?”
“To avoid presenting a target. See how they keep low and shift positions constantly?”
“And that move—the one where he flipped the other guy?”
“Center of gravity. Use your opponent’s weight against them.”
I listen to Kieran explain military strategy to our five-year-old son, his voice patient and clear. He’s good at this—teaching, explaining, making complex concepts simple enough for a child to understand. This side of him, the teacher, the father, it’s so different from the cold king I first knew.
“Now,” Thane calls out below. “Shift to wolf form!”
The warriors begin to shift. Clothes fall away as bodies transform—human to wolf in seconds. Soon, the field is filled with wolves of various sizes and colors, their eyes glowing with intelligence and purpose.
Azriel gasps. “They’re huge!”
“Northern wolves are larger than most.” Kieran points to a massive gray wolf in the center. “That’s Thane. See how the others follow his lead? Wolves can speak to each other in their minds when they’re in wolf form.”
The wolves move through drills—attack formations, defensive positions, coordinated strikes that showcase both their individual power and their ability to work as a unit. It’s beautiful and terrifying at once, this display of controlled violence.
“Papa,” Azriel tugs on Kieran’s hand. “Can you shift? I want to see your wolf!”
Kieran glances at me, something questioning in his eyes. Like he’s asking permission even though he doesn’t need it.
I nod slightly.
“Stay here with your mother.” He steps off the platform and moves toward the field.
My breath catches as Kieran begins to strip.
Right there. In front of everyone.
His cloak falls first, then his shirt. My eyes follow the movement of fabric sliding over skin, revealing the broad planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen. Scars mark his torso—pale lines against tan skin that speak of decades of battle, but they don’t diminish the raw power of his body.
Heat floods through me despite the cold air.
I remember those muscles. Remember the feel of that skin under my hands, my lips. Remember how his body felt pressed against mine—moving over me, inside me—
I force my eyes away, face burning.
He strips off his boots and pants, and I absolutely do not look as he stands there completely naked and utterly unselfconscious.
Then he shifts.
His wolf explodes into being—massive, midnight black with silver streaks through his fur that match the hair on his head. He’s easily the largest wolf on the field, radiating dominance and power that makes every other wolf instinctively drop their heads in submission.
Luna surges forward in my mind with a desperate whine. “Our mate.”
“Stop,” I mutter under my breath, but I can’t tear my eyes away.
The wolf—Kieran’s wolf—turns toward us. Ice-blue eyes lock on mine across the distance, and the intensity in that gaze steals my breath. Then he moves, joining the other wolves in their demonstrations.
He’s magnificent. All lethal grace and raw power, moving with fluidity that shouldn’t be possible for something so large. The other wolves follow his lead instinctively, responding to his presence like he’s conducting a symphony of violence.
He’s showing off, I realize. Showing our son what he’s capable of. What Azriel might become someday.
“Wow,” Azriel breathes beside me. “He’s amazing.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “He is.”
After several minutes of demonstrations, the wolves shift back to human form. I watch—gods help me, I watch—as Kieran’s body reforms. Wolf to human in a seamless transition that leaves him standing there naked and perfect in the snow.
He doesn’t rush to dress. Just stands there for a moment, catching his breath, sweat gleaming on his skin despite the cold. Then he moves to retrieve his clothes with unhurried grace.
He pulls on his pants, leather molding to his body as he fastens them. But he doesn’t reach for his shirt. Just leaves it lying in the snow as he turns to give orders to his warriors, chest and arms exposed to the cold air.
My mouth goes dry.
Every movement makes his muscles flex—shoulders, chest, abdomen. I watch the play of light and shadow across his skin and cannot stop remembering what that body felt like against mine.
“Mama?” Azriel’s voice breaks through my trance. “Are you okay? Your face is really red.”
“Just cold, sweetheart.” The lie comes easily, even as heat pools low in my belly.
Kieran returns to the platform, still gloriously shirtless, and climbs up beside us. The space feels even smaller now. I’m acutely aware of every inch of exposed skin, of the heat radiating from his body, of how close he’s standing.
“What did you think?” He’s asking Azriel, but his eyes flick to me for just a second.
“That was the coolest thing ever!” Azriel bounces. “When can I shift like that?”
“Not for a few more years.” Kieran’s expression softens. “Your wolf will emerge when you’re ready. Until then, you train in human form.”
The wind picks up, and my cloak slips off my shoulder. I reach to adjust it, but Kieran is faster. His hand catches the fabric, brushing my collarbone.
We both freeze.
The touch is electric—his warm fingers against my cold skin, sending heat racing through me. His hand lingers for a heartbeat too long, eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
Then he pulls back. “You should stay warm.”
“Thank you.” My voice comes out breathier than I intended.
He turns away, descending the platform to speak with Thane, but I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clench into fists at his sides.
Luna whimpers in my mind. Touch him again. Need to touch him again.
“Stop it,” I hiss under my breath.
But she’s not wrong. That brief contact has left me wanting more, my skin still tingling where his fingers brushed my collarbone.
“Mama?” Azriel tugs on my hand, pulling me back to reality. “Can we see the wolves shift again?”
“Perhaps later,” Kieran says, voice tight. “It’s almost time for—”
“Your Majesty.” Thane approaches with several warriors. “The men were hoping—” He glances at me. “They’d like to see the princess’s wolf. To see what bloodline the young prince carries.”
My stomach drops. “I don’t think—”
“You don’t have to,” Kieran says quietly, almost gentle. “Only if you’re comfortable.”
I look at Azriel, whose eyes have lit up with excitement. “Can I see your wolf, Mama? Please?”
Luna stirs in my mind, alert. Yes. Show them. Show him…
“All right.” I take a breath. “But everyone turns around while I undress.”
Kieran immediately barks an order, and every warrior on the field turns their backs. He moves to stand between me and them, providing an additional shield with his body.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His eyes meet mine. “Always.”
The word hangs between us for a moment before I turn away, moving behind an equipment shed for privacy. My hands shake as I strip off my clothes, folding them carefully on a wooden crate. The cold air bites at my exposed skin, raising goosebumps across my arms and legs.
Then I let Luna emerge.
The shift is swift and smooth—I’ve done this thousands of times. My wolf form materializes, smaller than Kieran’s but still substantial for a female. My fur is dark brown with hints of red that catch the light, and my eyes remain violet even in wolf form.
When I step out from behind the shed, the warriors turn back. I hear murmurs of approval—I’m clearly from strong bloodlines, Luna’s form elegant and powerful despite being smaller than the males.
But it’s Kieran’s reaction that captures my attention.
His eyes lock on my wolf with an intensity that steals my breath. Recognition, desire, possession—before he locks it down. But I saw it. That unguarded moment when his control slipped.
Luna moves toward the center of the field, hyperaware of every eye on us. But mostly aware of Kieran, still standing there shirtless and perfect, watching with ice-blue eyes.
Azriel runs over, face lit up with wonder. “Mama, you’re so pretty! Look at your fur!”
Luna nuzzles his hand gently, making him giggle. But even as I interact with our son, I’m aware of Kieran’s gaze tracking our every movement.
“Beautiful,” I hear him say, so quietly I almost miss it.
Luna’s head snaps toward him, and our eyes meet across the field. Something passes between us—that impossible pull that shouldn’t exist, that bond clawing back together despite the rejection.
Thane clears his throat. “Thank you, Princess. The men are honored.”
I shift back behind the shed, reforming into human shape. I’m shaking as I dress, skin hypersensitive from the shift and the weight of Kieran’s stare.
When I emerge, fully clothed, Kieran is putting his shirt back on. The loss of all that exposed skin should be a relief. Instead, I feel bereft.
