ZURI

Realizing I had their attention and was slowly losing strength, I put the flames out and squared my shoulders.

One of the guards, a rugged bulky wolf, stepped forward, still gripping Denny’s arm. The smug look on his face repulsed me. “He was causing a disturbance, MiLady.”

“A disturbance?” I snapped. “He’s my companion, and I won’t tolerate him being mistreated.”

Denny’s gaze met mine, and I saw the flicker of relief in his eyes. But his defiance hadn’t waned.

“They tried to throw me into the barracks with the other prisoners,” he spat, glaring at the guards. “I told them I wouldn’t go without seeing you first.”

The bastards. Who did they think they were? I turned my gaze to the guards as anger simmered within me. “Alpha Tyr himself promised comfortable quarters for him. Are you questioning your king’s orders?”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances before slowly letting Denny go. “Of course not, MiLady,” the guard responded. I could already see that he had a lot of authority over the other men, which explained what was going on and what would happen if he got reported. “We’ll see to it immediately.”

“See that you do, or I’ll make sure Alpha Tyr hears about this.”

The guards muttered apologies before releasing Denny and retreating. I watched them go before turning to Denny.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I muttered through my teeth. My frustration was tempered with concern. I looked around and spoke softly. “We’re walking on thin ice here.”

Denny rubbed his wrists as his expression softened. “I won’t stand by and let these beasts treat me like a criminal, Zuri. They should have let me see you. I was worried.”

I sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know. But we have to be smart. Tyr isn’t someone we can afford to provoke. Endure this for me, Denny. Please. I am trying my best.”

"I know." Denny's shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry. I respect the sacrifice you made coming all the way here, and I will do my best to make sure you get what you are here for."

A sigh of relief escaped me. "Thank you. Now move along. They should now show you to one of the comfortable warrior quarters."

I waited until he walked away before turning around and heading back to my quarters.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I couldn't tell when I slept, but I soon found myself nestled upon the golden throne of Magnika, the unfamiliar weight of the crown pressing lightly against my head.

The sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows painted the hall in hues of red, blue, and gold, a kaleidoscope of beauty I’d always associated with home. Faces of my people beamed up at me. Their eyes were filled with respect and devotion.

A sense of pride swelled in my chest. This was my kingdom, my home, and my people. I’d fought for them, bled for them, and here I was, restored to the throne that had been stolen from me.

But as I looked closer, their smiles began to shift. The warmth faded and was replaced with something sinister. One by one, their faces contorted, their features twisting until every face around me morphed into Froky’s.

His sneering visage stared back at me from every direction and started closing in.

I tried to rise, to confront them, but my body felt heavy, sluggish. Suddenly, the Froky-faced crowd pulled out weapons—swords, daggers, axes—and began to advance faster.

“Stop!” My voice trembled with fear. I raised my hands to summon the magic that had always been my weapon and shield, but nothing happened. It may be weak, but it had saved me countless times.

Panic surged through me as I tried again, and again. My magic—my essence—was gone, as though it had been siphoned away.

“Not so powerful now, are you?” Froky’s voice echoed from every direction.

I screamed as they closed in, their weapons gleaming in the flickering light—

I bolted upright, gasping for air. My body was drenched in sweat and my heart was hammering wildly in my chest. It took me a moment to remember where I was. I was in the grand room in Bjord, not the throne room of Magnika.

It was just a dream, I reassured myself while pressing a trembling hand to my forehead. Just one hell of a dream.

Three sharp knocks at the door made me jolt. I threw the covers aside and stumbled to the door, still half lost in the nightmare. Without thinking, I yanked it open.

Tyr stood on the other side. His sea-green eyes assessed me with an almost unnerving intensity. His golden hair was tied back neatly, with only a few loose strands framing his perfect face.

Dressed in a dark green royal robe that brought out the sharpness of his eyes, he was effortlessly imposing.

A faint, masculine scent wafted toward me—something woodsy and clean—and it made my pulse slow just a little, bringing me fully back to reality.

“You’re finally awake.” His voice carried a soft edge. “The maids have been knocking for quite some time.”

I swallowed hard, still catching my breath. “I... I must not have heard them.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave me a once-over that I could swear was mocking. “Clearly.” He stepped back slightly to gesture down the hall. “You’ve been in here all day. Come down for dinner. Unless you prefer to starve yourself.”

My stomach betrayed me then by rumbling loudly enough to make my cheeks flush. So embarrassing. His lips quirked, a faint smirk tugging at the corners.

I crossed my arms, trying to salvage my dignity. “I wasn’t planning to starve myself.”

“Good.” He turned on his heel and began to walk away. His robe billowed slightly as he moved. The fabric caught the light in a way that emphasized his commanding presence.

Just as he reached the end of the hall, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, one more thing.”

I froze and met his gaze.

“I know you’re hybrid, and I’ve noticed you lean more into your witch side.”

My throat tightened. Oh, shit! How much did he know? I held my breath and patiently waited for my heartbeat to go back to normal.

Tyr’s eyes sparkled with something unreadable. Amusement? Curiosity? “Join the pack witches tomorrow morning. There will be a friendly sparring session. Consider it... an invitation.”

Before I could respond, he turned and disappeared around the corner, leaving me standing in the doorway.

A friendly spar with the pack's witches sounded like the perfect way to publicly plant my respect in the hearts of the people, but how was I supposed to do that when I could barely weave the threads of my magic or grant total control over my wolf?