Two Shadowclaw wolves dragged the prisoner forward.

The herald unrolled his scroll and began to read.

"Unlawful entry into Shadowclaw territory. Unauthorized use of wolf form inside the northern ridge. Participation in a coordinated strike team targeting a sovereign Alpha King and a woman under his protection."

"Coordinated is generous," the prisoner offered helpfully. "We fell apart the second your wolves showed up. I would say we participated in the way a hamster participates in a dog fight."

The herald continued without looking up. "Attempted abduction of said female."

"Allegedly."

"Conspiracy with a foreign entity to commit an act of war against the kingdom of Shadowclaw."

"The penalty for any one of these charges is death," the herald finished. "The penalty for all of them is a significantly more creative death."

"See, now we’re talking." The prisoner shifted his weight, wincing as the silver bit deeper. "I’ve always wanted to be memorable."

Fin finally spoke, his voice filling the chamber.

"Who sent you?"

"I’d tell you, but I’m under contract. And my contract has a very strict non-disclosure clause. Written in blood. Mine, specifically. It’s a whole thing."

"Who funded the strike team."

"Gods, you’re relentless. Has anyone ever told you that you could benefit from a hobby? Whittling. Ceramics. Anything."

Fin leaned back in his throne. Studied him. The prisoner was smart enough to be dangerous and drunk enough on adrenaline to be useless. Whatever oath he had sworn was holding.

"Hang on." The prisoner grinned, splitting a cut on his lip. "Hang on, hang on."

No one answered.

"The white wolf. In the forest. That’s a Drakenfell princess. She’s a white wolf. It’s so obvious. How she kept that a secret from the Knotty Omega is beyond me."

The council stirred. Subtle. A shift of weight here, a glance exchanged there.

"Why is a Drakenfell princess staying in Shadowclaw?" the prisoner continued, tilting his head with the performative confusion of a man who had just found a new toy. "Last I checked, she’s still mated to the Dragon Prince."

Fin did not answer.

"Oh, this is good. This is so good." The prisoner laughed. It turned into a wet cough. "As a professional courtesy, I am not the only contract out there looking for her. But a white wolf is a different story altogether. It’s only a matter of time before that gets out. If she was in your forest unshifted, unguarded, and glowing like a lighthouse, every kingdom with a map and a grudge is going to—"

"Enough."

Fin stood.

The prisoner’s mouth kept moving for half a second before his brain caught up.

"Execution order." Fin’s voice was flat. Final. "He will not cooperate. Remove him."

Kael nodded once.

"Understood, Alpha."

"Wait, wait." The prisoner’s tone shifted, grin faltering. "Hold on. I didn’t say I wouldn’t cooperate. I said I was under contract. Those are different. Those are entirely—"

"Remove him."

The guards hauled him up by his arms.

"I have information. I can trade. Shadowclaw, let’s be reasonable. You do not want to kill someone with information."

Fin turned his back on him.

"You have a leak!" the prisoner shouted as he was dragged toward the side corridor. "You have a leak in your council and I can tell you who! Shadowclaw! SHADOWCLAW!"

The door closed behind him.

The throne room went quiet.

Fin stood with his back to the council for three full breaths. Every member of the room understood, without being told, that they were watching an Alpha King decide whether the last thing he had heard was worth a second thought or worth a second war.

His face betrayed nothing.

"Council meeting. One hour. Every seat filled."

✦✦✦

"I called this meeting to inform you of a change in the line of succession."

Not a single elder moved.

"Serena Frostborne is my fated mate."

A few of the elders attempted a surprised reaction. Terrible acting. Fin almost snorted. Almost. They all obviously knew that.

"I am claiming her publicly. She will stand beside me as the rightful queen of Shadowclaw and be afforded that protection and rights."

Elder Vantrell, the oldest of them, spoke first. "Alpha King, with respect, the woman you are describing is the Crown Princess of Drakenfell. She is publicly mated. Publicly crowned. She wears another kingdom’s title."

"I am aware."

"You understand that you are describing a diplomatic crisis."

"I am describing a fact."

Elder Vantrell inhaled slowly. "The matebond you are claiming was discovered when, exactly?"

"War Summit. My wolf identified her before she spoke a word."

"And the Drakenfell bond?"

"A week before we met."

Elder Marenne, the only woman on the council, leaned forward. Her rings caught the torchlight. "She is a second-chance fated mate. That is extraordinary, Alpha King. None of us would deny that. But extraordinary and actionable are different conversations."

"I am not asking for your permission to feel what I feel." Fin’s voice did not rise. "I am informing you of what I intend to do."

"And we are informing you," Elder Vantrell said carefully, "that there are steps."

"Then take them."

The elders held a brief silence between them. One of those looks that had been rehearsed across decades of managing kings who had inconvenient feelings at inconvenient times.

Elder Marenne spoke first. "No one at this table is questioning your right to choose your mate. That is your sovereign decision, and we respect it."

"Good."

"However." She paused. "The queen of Shadowclaw is a separate matter."

The silence that followed was not a silence. It was a load-bearing quiet.

Fin’s jaw worked.

"Clarify."

Elder Vantrell picked up where Marenne had left him an opening. "You may have her, Alpha, as a wife. No one in this room will stand between you and what is yours by fate."

"But."

"But the queen of Shadowclaw must be a woman who can be crowned here. Without the complication of another kingdom’s claim on her."

Fin’s hand flexed once against the stone of the table.

"You are telling me I can have her in my bed but not on my throne."

"We are telling you," Elder Marenne said, gently, "that you can have her in every way that matters to you as a man. The throne is a different vow. The throne belongs to Shadowclaw."

"I am Shadowclaw."

Elder Vantrell leaned forward, and for the first time his voice carried the weight of a man who was no longer negotiating.

"You are the last of your line. You have no queen or heir. The pack has waited five years since your first mate passed, and it has waited patiently. It will not wait another five. A queen is not a romantic gesture. She is a stabilizing force. Having the Drakenfell Princess here is the reason our enemies have started testing our borders and wards. And the longer that seat sits empty, the more they test you."

"Then I will fill it with her."

"You cannot."

"Watch me."

No one moved.

Elder Marenne spoke first, voice soft. "There is a solution, Alpha King. One that has been discussed at this table quietly for some time, in anticipation of this very moment."

Fin’s eyes cut to her.

"A princess from a neighboring pack. A political match. One that secures an alliance, produces an heir of clean lineage, and takes the throne without contest." She lifted her hands before he could speak. "She would be queen in title, nothing more. Your fated mate would be your person and mother of your children if you prefer. The queen would be the mother of your heir on paper. You would not be the first Alpha King to love one woman and crown another. History does not punish men for that."

Fin laughed. It was not a kind laugh. It was the laugh of a man who had carried one mate to her grave and was not going to be told he could not carry the next one to his throne.

"Absolutely not. I did not fight in three wars to have a council tell me who I can and cannot have by my side."

Elder Vantrell opened his mouth.

"I said absolutely not, Vantrell. Do not ask me to repeat it. I will not marry a stranger to please an alliance. I will not put a woman on my throne who is not my mate. I will not raise a child under a crown whose mother was selected by a committee. Every one of you should know me well enough by now to understand that if I say no, the conversation is finished."

"Alpha King—"

"One thing at a time. We have a breach in the forest. We have a prisoner who claims there is a leak in this council. I have a mate upstairs who is recovering from a forced first shift after a year of silver poisoning. That is the agenda for tonight. But the queen conversation is not over. I have the final say."

He did not wait for their agreement. He turned toward the door.

"Dismissed."

The council rose, slowly. Elder Vantrell did not rise.

"Alpha King."

Fin stopped in the doorway.

"It will wait. But not long. And when we return to it, you will have pushback from every chair at this table. You should be prepared for that."

Fin did not turn around.

"If any chair at this table cannot stomach the woman I have chosen, I will replace the chair."

He closed the door behind him.

Elder Marenne looked at Elder Vantrell. "He will not bend on this."

"He will," Vantrell said quietly. "Or the kingdom will."