Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
And it won’t kill him to have a little bit of fun.
“Do you feel lonely as king?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’m around people and wolves all of the time.”
“Right…” I lean in, lowering my voice. “But that’s not the same thing, is it? No one talking to you like you’re an equal. No one teasing you or telling you the truth when it’s uncomfortable. Every interaction must feel so…” I search for the word. “Performed.”
His jaw tightens—not defensively, but thoughtfully.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like,” I continue softly. “To walk into a room and know everyone has already decided who they need to be before you even speak.”
People must become different versions of themselves around him. His reality must feel so warped. So unnatural.
For a long moment, he says nothing.
Then, quietly, “They look at me like I’m not one of them. Like I’m one of the Gods.”
Something in his voice twists my heart. The poor guy.
“They choose their words carefully,” he goes on. “They agree too quickly. They smile too much. Even disagreements feel rehearsed, like they’re afraid to be on my bad side. I never get to see the real them, and they never get to see the real me.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” His gaze drops to his wine. “There are days I wonder if I’ve ever truly known anyone.”
He sighs. “My mother. I did know her.”
I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand. “Can you tell me about her?”
“She was a wonderful woman. Kind and always smiling despite the pressures of her crown. One time when I was young, my father brought me along as he settled a particularly bloody border dispute. I was too young to witness such things and it upset me greatly.”
I reach for his hand before I think better of it, resting my fingers lightly over his. He stills at the contact, then turns his palm up, letting me lace our fingers together.
“She found me sitting alone in the training yard,” he continues quietly. “I kept seeing the bodies in my mind. I watched my fellow shifters bleed for lines drawn on a map, watched grief ripple through families.”
He lifts his gaze to mine, something softer there now. “I asked her how she could smile in such a sad world. How she could bear it.”
“And what did she say?” I ask gently.
“She sat beside me and took my hands, just like this,” he says, turning his palm up so I can feel the echo of the memory. “And she said that the world has never needed more darkness,” he continues softly. “It has plenty of that already. What it needs are those willing to carry the light when others no longer can.”
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and absent, lost in the memory.
“She told me that smiling isn’t pretending the pain doesn’t exist. It’s choosing not to let the pain win. That joy, when it’s chosen in the face of suffering, becomes a shield—for yourself and for everyone watching you.”
My chest tightens.
“She said a Wolf King’s happiness is never just his own. It becomes permission. Permission for the pack to choose joy, laughter, and kindness over hatred, fear, and darkness.”
He exhales, a quiet, steady breath. “Then she leaned in and pressed her forehead to mine and told me something I have never forgotten.”
His voice drops.
“Alaric, your empathy makes you strong. You will be a good king because you care.”
I swallow hard.
“She told me that when the crown feels too heavy, when the loneliness cuts too deep, when the darkness threatens to swallow me whole, I must remember who I am. And then she told me words I live by. Words I say whenever I’m struggling. Whenever I feel like I can’t take one more second of this world.”
He lifts my hand and presses it to his chest. I can feel his heart beating.
“I am alpha,” he whispers. “I endure.”
The words settle between us as I feel the rhythm of his heart, strong and true.
“She sounds very wise,” I whisper.
He nods once. “She was.”
“I’m sure she’d be very proud of you,” I say, removing my hand.
His eyes meet mine. They’re shining in the candlelight. “Thank you. Although, I haven’t been smiling very much in the past two decades.”
I lift up my wine and smile shyly at him. “I guess we’ll have to change that.”
He smiles and it makes my whole body fill with warmth.
The royal servants bring the food, setting it down in a dramatic fashion. I’m in awe of all of the meat, vegetables, and dinner rolls on the table. It’s enough to feed half my village. I’m thinking they made a mistake until I look over at my dinner companion and once again, marvel at the size of him.
I keep peppering Alaric with questions as we begin eating, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I keep getting the sense that he’s very intrigued by me. Like he can’t wait to hear the next thing to come out of my mouth.