Chapter 2: The Journey to the Dark Palace

The dawn came too quickly.

Elara had not slept a moment. She sat by the window of her small chamber, staring at the fading stars as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon. The temple bells had rung throughout the night, summoning blessings, but no amount of holy chants could quiet the storm in her chest. She was leaving—leaving her family, her home, her entire life—to be bound to a man she barely knew, a king feared across every border.

When the heavy knock sounded at the door, her mother burst into quiet sobs. Elara turned, swallowing the lump in her throat as armored guards stepped inside. Their black uniforms bore the insignia of the Alpha King—a wolf’s head crowned in thorns.

“It is time,” one of them said gruffly.

Her father pulled her into a rough embrace, his calloused hands gripping her shoulders as though he could somehow anchor her to the earth. “Be strong,” he whispered. His voice was steady, but his eyes shone with sorrow.

Her mother kissed her forehead, fingers trembling. “Do not forget who you are, Elara. Do not let him break you.”

Elara forced herself not to cry. She had no choice. She had been chosen.

The guards led her outside, where a black carriage waited. It was unlike anything she had ever seen—sleek, carved from dark wood, its frame gleaming with silver inlays of wolves snarling at the moon. The horses were massive, their coats dark as obsidian, their eyes glowing faintly gold. Even the animals seemed touched by the Alpha King’s dominance.

As she climbed inside, she realized she was not alone.

Kaelen sat across from her, his massive frame dominating the small space. In the morning light, his presence was even more overwhelming. His hair was tousled from travel, his jaw shadowed with stubble that made him look both dangerous and devastatingly handsome. He lounged as though the world itself belonged to him, one arm resting lazily on the edge of the seat, yet his gaze pinned her like a hawk watching prey.

Her breath caught. She had expected him to ride ahead, not to share this carriage.

The door slammed shut. The horses lurched forward. And suddenly, it was just the two of them, enclosed in silence, as the forest road stretched ahead.

Kaelen studied her openly, his golden eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You are quieter than I expected.”

Elara pressed her hands to her lap, fighting the tremor in her fingers. “What do you want me to say?”

His lips curved faintly. “Most women beg.”

“I will not beg.”

That seemed to amuse him. His gaze darkened, not with anger, but with something more dangerous—interest. He leaned forward slightly, his scent of pine and smoke wrapping around her, making her pulse stumble.

“You have spirit,” he murmured. “I wonder if it will serve you… or destroy you.”

Her throat went dry. She wanted to turn her face away, to escape that piercing stare, but something inside her refused. She would not let him see her break so easily.

Hours passed as the carriage rumbled along winding roads. The forest grew thicker, shadows stretching long beneath the canopy. Every so often, Kaelen’s gaze flickered toward her, watching, calculating, as though weighing every breath she took.

By midday, the silence had become unbearable. Elara dared to speak, her voice soft but steady. “Why me?”

Kaelen raised a brow. “You were chosen.”

“Yes, but you must know why the prophecy demands this. What curse do you carry that requires…” She hesitated, cheeks warming. “Requires me.”

For the first time, his smirk vanished. His jaw tightened, eyes flashing with a flicker of something she could not name—pain? Fury?

He leaned closer until the space between them vanished, until she could feel the heat radiating off him. His voice dropped low, a growl against her ear. “Do not speak of my curse again, little one. You are here to obey, not to question.”

Her breath caught, fear prickling along her spine. But beneath it, traitorously, came a wave of heat at the sheer dominance in his tone.

She turned her face away, biting her lip to keep from trembling.

The carriage jolted suddenly, throwing her forward. Kaelen’s arm shot out, catching her easily. His hand gripped her waist, firm and possessive, pulling her against his chest.

For a moment, they froze—her body pressed to his, his warmth searing through the thin fabric of her dress. She felt his heartbeat beneath her palm, strong and steady, so different from her own frantic rhythm. His golden eyes locked onto hers, and in them she saw a fire that both terrified and fascinated her.

Her lips parted, a breathless sound escaping before she could stop it. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

For one charged second, she thought he might kiss her.

Instead, Kaelen released her abruptly, pushing her back into her seat as though nothing had happened. “Careful,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “The road is dangerous.”

Elara pressed her hand to her chest, her skin still tingling where he had touched her. Her mind screamed to hate him, to fight him, yet her body betrayed her, trembling not with fear, but with something else she dared not name.

The journey stretched on. The forests gave way to jagged mountains, their peaks shrouded in mist. As dusk fell, the sky burned with hues of red and gold, and at last, the carriage began to climb the narrow path toward the Blackthorn Palace.

When the fortress came into view, Elara’s breath caught. It was vast and foreboding, carved into the cliffs themselves, its spires clawing at the sky. Torches lit the walls, casting shadows that danced like spirits. The gates were iron, adorned with snarling wolves. The palace looked less like a home and more like a kingdom forged for war.

As the carriage passed through the gates, the villagers who worked within bowed low, their eyes filled with both reverence and fear.

“This will be your home now,” Kaelen said softly, his gaze fixed on her as though gauging her reaction.

Her stomach twisted. Home. The word felt like a cruel joke.

The carriage stopped in the courtyard. Guards rushed to open the doors. Kaelen stepped out first, towering and commanding, before turning back to extend his hand. His golden eyes held hers, daring her to refuse.

Elara hesitated, then placed her hand in his. His grip was warm, firm, pulling her effortlessly into the open. The night air was sharp, carrying the scent of pine and steel.

“Welcome to Blackthorn Palace,” Kaelen murmured, his lips brushing close to her ear. “Where nothing is yours… not even your heart.”

A shiver raced down her spine. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a figure emerged from the shadows of the courtyard—a man whose smile was charming but whose eyes gleamed with something darker.

“Brother,” he said smoothly, bowing with exaggerated grace. “You’ve brought her at last.”

Kaelen’s expression hardened. “Lucien.”

Elara’s breath caught. The Alpha King had a brother.