The weight of his own sword had never felt so heavy.
Branen stood on the stone ridge above the eastern courtyard, his hand resting on the hilt of his broadsword, his grey eyes fixed on the narrow, winding path that led down to the western gate. The sun was approaching the western peak, a dull, orange disc that threw long, bloody shadows across the snow.
The trial was about to begin.
In the courtyard below, Kaelen’s western hunters were lining up, their heavy iron swords drawn, their golden eyes bright with a sudden, victorious light. The pack members sat on the stone benches, their faces pale, their eyes wide with a desperate, tense anticipation. They had water now—clean, pure water from the wellspring that Posy had saved—but they were still afraid. They knew that if Branen fell, Kaelen would claim the throne, and the child would go into the cairn.
But Branen’s mind was not on the fight.
He looked down at the courtyard, and then back to the high tower of the east wing where the nursery lay.
The pack-bond in his chest was a bleeding wound.
The touch of her neck, the warmth of her magic, and the quiet, steady hum of her heart—they were all gone, shut out by the wall she had built in her mind after he had locked her in. He could still feel her thread, but it was thin, cold, and brittle, a physical reminder of his failure.
He had saved her life. He had protected his mate.
But he had lost her heart.
"Alpha."
Vane stood beside him, his young face pale but steady. "It is time. Kaelen is waiting on the dais."
Branen did not answer. He slowly drew his broadsword from its sheath, the steel glinting in the pale sunlight, and began to walk down the stone steps toward the courtyard, his silent wolf finally rising in his mind, its jaws snapping as it prepared to fight for its line.
He had given her the key to her freedom.
And now, as he stepped onto the snowy ground of the courtyard to face his cousin, Branen vowed to himself that if he survived this day, he would find a way to earn her heart back.
Not through the duty of a pack or the magic of a bond, but through the honest, unyielding devotion of a man who would rather tear his own mountain down than see his mate in a cage.