Rowan POV
Three in the morning and he still couldn't sleep.
Rowan walked the castle halls like a prisoner in his own fortress. The stone floors were cold beneath his boots. The torches had burned low, leaving shadows thick enough to hide in. He preferred the darkness. In darkness, no one could see their king breaking apart.
His wolf was screaming.
It had been screaming since he released her hand in the throne room. Since he'd felt her mind touch his and then vanish when they separated. Since he'd sent her away and told himself it was the right choice. The only choice.
His wolf knew better.
It wanted to run. Wanted to find her in the east wing. Wanted to break down her door and pull her close and never let her leave again. It recognized her in a way that made no sense. In a way that threatened every strategic calculation he'd made to keep this kingdom together.
He turned a corner and nearly collided with a servant carrying water. The young woman gasped and pressed herself against the wall, her eyes wide with fear. She was frightened of him. Rowan realized he probably looked like a wild animal. Hair uncombed. Clothes wrinkled. Eyes that had gone too long without sleep.
A king who looked like he was losing control.
"Return to your quarters," he said quietly, and the servant hurried away before he could say anything else.
Rowan continued walking. He needed to move. Movement was better than thinking. Movement distracted the wolf. Movement kept him from doing something catastrophic like walking to the east wing and demanding she explain what she was. What she'd done to him. Why touching her for one moment had rewritten every rule he'd built his life around.
The throne room had been a disaster.
He'd felt Elena Thorne's suspicion the moment he'd stepped back from Elara. Felt the way the older woman's eyes had sharpened with interest. Elena had been his mother's friend once. Now she was his obstacle. She'd been waiting for weakness to exploit for years.
She'd found it the moment his hand touched a girl from a human village.
By morning, Elena would have questions. By afternoon, she'd have allies. By evening, she'd have demands. And if the Council discovered that his bride had power, that she'd made trained soldiers drop to their knees with nothing but her presence, they'd see her as either a tool to use or a threat to eliminate.
Both options destroyed her.
Both options destroyed him in the process.
His wolf wanted him to accept that. To accept that the pull between them meant he'd found something he couldn't protect. Something that would bring down everything he'd built if anyone discovered what she was.
The rational option was clear. Let her leave. The soldiers had reported her standing on her balcony, looking toward the village she'd lost. She was already thinking about escape. All he had to do was nothing. Let her go. And the pull would fade. The connection would break. He could rebuild the control that had taken thirteen years to construct.
Rowan found himself on the battlements without meaning to walk there.
The night air was cold. The kingdom spread out below in darkness. Wolves patrolled the grounds, still restless, still responding to something they didn't understand. Still responding to her.
Lucian was waiting by the wall like he'd known Rowan would come here. Of course he had. His general understood him better than Rowan understood himself sometimes.
"You haven't slept," Lucian said. Not a question.
"The king has responsibilities."
"The king also has to be stable enough to lead." Lucian moved closer, his expression serious in the starlight. "The eastern gate guard reported something. Your bride was standing on her balcony before dawn. Staring toward the village she came from. Looking like she was trying to find a way home."
Rowan's entire body went rigid.
She was trying to leave. She was already planning her escape. Which meant the pull between them meant nothing to her. Or meant she was terrified enough of it to risk everything to get away.
"Good," he heard himself say. "If she leaves, the complication resolves itself."
"Does it?" Lucian asked quietly.
Rowan didn't answer. He couldn't answer because they both knew the truth. The pull wouldn't stop just because she left. If anything, it would grow stronger. The distance would make it worse, not better. He'd spend the rest of his life feeling her absence like a blade in his chest.
"The Council is asking questions," Lucian continued. "Elena Thorne is particularly interested in why you reacted to your bride the way you did. Why every wolf in the castle felt something inexplicable. Why your hand was shaking when you dismissed them."
"Let her ask."
"She's not going to ask. She's going to demand answers. And if you don't have ones that satisfy her, she'll start making her own conclusions. She'll start spreading rumors. She'll start gathering support for removing you."
Rowan turned to face his friend. "Are you here to warn me or convince me?"
"I'm here because you're about to make a decision that destroys the kingdom," Lucian said, and there was no anger in his voice, which made it worse. "You're going to let her leave because you think it solves the problem. But it won't. It will create one. It will make you look weak. It will make the Council question your judgment. And it will prove that your bride was exactly what Elena suspected. Something dangerous. Something you couldn't control."
"I can't protect her if she stays."
"No," Lucian agreed. "But the kingdom needs her to stay. Not because of the marriage alliance. Because whatever she is, whatever connection you have with her, it's already spreading through this castle like it's alive. Wolves that were loyal are becoming uncertain. Advisors that respected you are starting to question your stability. Elena is planning something and she's moving fast."
Rowan felt the walls of control cracking further. His wolf was pushing harder, demanding he go to her. Demanding he bring her to him and never let go. Demanding he accept the connection instead of fighting it.
"If I keep her here, the Council will demand tests. They'll want to know what she is."
"Then you protect her through the tests," Lucian said simply. "You stand beside her. You make it clear that whatever she is, she's yours. That the kingdom will adapt or face consequences."
"That's not how politics works."
"No," Lucian agreed. "But that's how love works. And that's what this is, isn't it? Not a political calculation. Not a strategy. Something that broke through thirteen years of control in the space of a single touch."
Rowan wanted to deny it. Wanted to claim that Lucian was wrong. Wanted to use his position as king to shut down this conversation and return to the safety of distance and control.
Instead, he felt something inside him shift.
"I don't know how to be a man who needs someone," Rowan said quietly. "My parents died. The kingdom fell apart. I had to become someone who needed nothing. Someone who controlled everything. If I let her matter, if I acknowledge that connection, it makes me vulnerable. It makes me a target."
"You're already vulnerable," Lucian said. "You're already a target. But maybe this time you won't have to face it alone."
Rowan looked out at the kingdom. At the wolves still moving restlessly below. At the distant village lights where the girl who'd broken his control had come from. At the impossible choice between protecting himself or protecting her.
"I need to think," Rowan said finally.
"Don't think too long," Lucian warned. "Elena moves at dawn. She's gathering the Council for an emergency session. By midday, she'll present her concerns about your stability. By evening, she'll demand that your bride be tested."
"Tested for what?"
"For being human," Lucian said. "And from what I saw in the throne room, if she's tested and they discover what she really is, there's no law in this kingdom that protects what shouldn't exist."
Lucian left him there on the battlements. Alone with the wolves. Alone with the impossible knowledge that his bride was standing on her balcony right now, trying to find a way home. Alone with the understanding that letting her leave wasn't an act of protection.
It was an act of surrender.
And Rowan Ashford had spent thirteen years learning never to surrender.
But as he stood in the darkness, he could feel her across the castle. Could feel her fear. Could feel the same pull that was destroying him also destroying her.
And he understood something with perfect, terrible clarity.
He was going to have to choose between being a king and being a man.
And whatever he chose, the kingdom would burn.