SERAPHINA
I smooth my hands over the deep emerald silk of my gown, checking my reflection one final time before leaving my chambers. The dress is formal enough for a royal representative but practical enough to move in, high neckline, long sleeves, fitted bodice that flows into a fuller skirt. Mother insisted on the color, saying it brings out my eyes.
What she really meant is that it makes me look strong. Regal. Like a princess who hasn’t spent the last five years hiding in her own palace.
Elena appears in the doorway, Azriel’s small hand clasped in hers. My son—gods, he’s gotten so tall, is dressed in a simple tunic and trousers, his dark hair freshly combed. Those ice-blue eyes find me immediately, and he breaks into a grin that makes my chest ache.
“Mama!” He bounces on his toes. “Is it true? The tournament is really happening here?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” I kneel down to his level, ignoring the way the movement pulls at my carefully arranged hair. “The Eastern Kingdom is hosting this year. But you still need to stay close to Elena.”
“Can I watch the Warriors?” His eyes are bright with excitement. “Please?”
“We’ll see.” I tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, my stomach twisting. “Now go with Elena. I need to finish getting ready.”
He throws his arms around my neck one more time before Elena leads him out. I watch them go, then sink onto the edge of my bed, my hands trembling.
The Peace Tournaments. They’re finally here. In my home.
It’s been two years since the tournaments began. Before that, it was constant warfare, the North and South tearing each other apart, the East and West getting dragged into the conflict through old alliances and new grudges. Resources depleting. Casualties mounting. Entire villages burned. I remember the reports coming in, Father’s face growing grimmer with each one. Mother pacing the war room, trying to find diplomatic solutions that no one wanted to hear.
The breaking point came when three of the four kingdoms lost major supply routes in the same month. Suddenly, everyone was starving. Everyone was desperate.
That’s when the military advisors stepped in. All four kingdoms, sitting down together for the first time in years, and they proposed something radical: the Peace Tournaments. Instead of full-scale war, disputes would be settled through ritualized combat between champions. Controlled. Regulated. With rules that all four kingdoms agreed to honor.
Father signed the treaty immediately. So did Kieran.
I remember that first tournament three years ago. I attended from the Eastern delegation box, my stomach in knots the entire time, scanning the crowds for a glimpse of silver-streaked black hair. But Kieran didn’t come. He sent representatives instead, and I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.
The tournament worked, though. Disputes were settled. Tensions eased. Resources started recovering.
Kieran attended the second tournament. I heard the reports from our delegates—the Ice King in all his cold glory, watching the matches without a flicker of emotion. I didn’t go that year. Couldn’t bring myself to face him.
Or the year after that. Or the one after that.
But this year, the tournament is being hosted here. In the Eastern Kingdom. In my father’s palace. Which means I can’t hide. Can’t make excuses. And it means Kieran is coming here.
To my home.
Where my son lives.
Luna stirs uneasily. “Dangerous. This is dangerous.”
“I know,” I mutter, standing up and smoothing my gown again. “But what choice do we have?”
At least Azriel won’t stand out. He’s been part of the Eastern Court his entire life, introduced as a ward after his parents, distant nobles, supposedly died in a border raid when he was an infant.
The staff knows the story, the nobles have accepted it. No one questions why the princess takes care of an orphaned child. It’s seen as charitable. Kind. No one looks close enough to wonder why those ice-blue eyes seem so familiar, or why I guard him so fiercely.
Hopefully, that’s enough reason for Kieran not to notice one small boy among the many children of the court
A knock at the door announces my parents’ arrival. Father’s dressed in his formal robes, the crown of the Eastern Kingdom on his head. Mother looks effortlessly elegant in deep blue and gold, every inch the queen. They’re hosting the tournament this year, which means endless ceremonies, formal dinners, and diplomatic meetings.
And Kieran sleeping under our roof.
“Ready?” Father asks, though his expression says he’s been dreading this day for months.
Mother pulls me aside while Father examines one of the tapestries on my wall, giving us privacy. “The Northern delegation arrived an hour ago,” she says quietly. “Kieran is here.”
My heart stutters. “Already?”
“They’re being settled in the west wing. Opposite side of the palace from your quarters.” Her eyes search my face. “Are you certain you can handle this? Having him here?”
““I don’t have a choice.” I grip her hand. “This is my home. I’m not going to hide in my chambers for a week because he’s visiting.”
“And if he sees Azriel?” Mother’s voice drops even lower. “At the banquets, in the corridors—this palace isn’t that large.”
“Azriel will stay in the family wing during formal events. Elena knows to keep him away from the main halls.” I force confidence into my voice. “Kieran has no reason to wander into the children’s areas.”
“But if he does—”
“He won’t recognize him.” The words taste like a lie. “Five years, Mother. Kieran rejected me and moved on. He’s not looking for ghosts.”
Mother doesn’t look convinced, but Father clears his throat. “The opening ceremony begins in an hour. We need to get to the arena.”
We make our way through the palace and out toward the arena. The afternoon sun is bright, and the crowds are already gathering—nobles from all four kingdoms, warriors preparing for the tournament, common folk allowed in for the opening ceremony. The energy is electric.
“Remember,” Father says as we climb the stairs to the royal boxes. “You represent the Eastern Kingdom. Strength and composure.”
“I know.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
The royal boxes are elevated platforms that overlook the arena floor, positioned at the four cardinal points. East, West, North, South. Each kingdom has their own box, draped in their colors and filled with their highest-ranking nobles.
We enter the Eastern box, and I take my seat between my parents. Across the arena, directly opposite us, the Northern box sits empty.
Waiting.
“The Western delegation has arrived,” someone murmurs behind us.
I glance to the right and see the Western royals taking their seats, their box draped in deep purple and gold.
“The Southern delegation.”
To the left, the Southern box fills with their nobles in red and bronze.
My hands grip the arms of my chair. Any moment now—
“The Northern delegation.”
The crowd’s noise shifts, becoming louder, more excited. I force myself to breathe as figures begin filing into the Northern box across the arena.
And then I see him.
Kieran enters the box, and even from this distance, his presence is commanding. He’s dressed in black and silver, his formal robes bearing the Northern Kingdom’s crest.
His silver-streaked black hair catches the sunlight. He’s broader than I remember, harder—battle-hardened and cold. Five years of warfare and tournaments have carved away anything soft, leaving only the Ice King.
He takes his seat in the center of the Northern box, flanked by his advisors and warriors. His posture is perfect, his expression unreadable even from across the arena.
Luna surges forward in my mind, whining desperately. “Mate. Our mate. He’s here, he’s right there—”
“Stop,” I hiss under my breath. “He’s not—”
But then Kieran’s gaze sweeps the arena, and it lands on me.
The world stops.
Even across the distance, even with hundreds of feet separating us, I feel it. That connection that shouldn’t exist anymore, that bond that was supposed to be severed and dead. It flares to life like someone lit a match in the darkness—sharp, sudden, undeniable.
Heat floods through me. My wolf goes absolutely wild, howling and clawing to get out, to get to him. The hollow space where the bond used to be suddenly isn’t hollow anymore. It’s pulling, aching, burning with a need I haven’t felt in five years.
“MATE,” Luna screams. “Our mate, our mate, he’s alive, the bond—”
“No.” I dig my nails into the arms of my chair, trying to anchor myself. “It’s not possible. He rejected us. The bond is broken.”
But it doesn’t feel broken. It feels like it’s trying to snap back together, like two magnets being forced apart finally given the chance to reconnect.
Across the arena, Kieran’s posture changes. It’s subtle—just a slight stiffening of his shoulders, a tightening of his jaw. But I see it. I see the moment it hits him too, the moment he feels whatever this is.
His hands grip the arms of his chair. His eyes, those ice-blue eyes, are locked on mine with an intensity that steals my breath. For just a second, his mask slips. I see something raw flash across his face—recognition, shock, maybe even pain.
Then it’s gone. He looks away, turning his attention to one of his advisors, his expression carefully blank.
But his hands don’t relax. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the chair.
He felt it. I know he did.
“Seraphina?” Mother’s voice breaks through the fog. “Are you alright? You’re shaking.”
I am. My whole body is trembling, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. Luna is still howling in my mind, still trying to break free.
“I’m fine.” The lie tastes bitter. “Just… it’s been a long time.”
Mother follows my gaze across the arena to where Kieran sits, rigid and controlled. Her expression tightens. “The bond?”
“It shouldn’t be possible.” I force myself to look away from him, to focus on the arena floor where the ceremony is about to begin. “He rejected me. It should be dead.”
“Should be,” Mother echoes quietly. “But is it?”
I don’t answer because I don’t know. All I know is that seeing him again, being this close to him, has awakened something I thought was buried forever.
