The barrier crossing felt like drowning in reverse.
Alexander hit the transition point at 10:47 PM Thursday night—hours after he'd left campus, left the classroom, left Athelia standing at the board with Wavelander's kiss still on her lips and sixty students' phones recording his complete loss of control.
The human world released him with a snap. The Old Law territories pulled him through with the inevitability of gravity. Between one step and the next, he crossed from Flagstaff forest into his kingdom.
And the bond went completely silent.
Alexander stumbled, catching himself against a tree. The absence hit like amputation—sudden, complete, physically nauseating. One moment he could feel Athelia through the connection (distant, hurt, confused). The next: nothing. Just empty space where the bond had been.
The barrier blocked everything. No thoughts, no emotions, no sense of her at all. Like she'd ceased to exist.
He doubled over. Gasped. The wolf inside him howled—not in rage this time, but loss. Pure, devastating loss.
Marcus stood beside him. Had been there through the entire crossing—escorting him from the classroom, through Flagstaff forest, across the barrier. Silent and steady through Alexander's ragged breathing and shaking hands.
"Breathe," Marcus said quietly. "The bond silence is temporary. Just the barrier."
Alexander straightened slowly. Forced himself upright. The absence still felt like amputation, but Marcus was right—it was the barrier's doing. Physical separation, not severance.
"I lost control," Alexander said hoarsely. "In front of sixty humans. With cameras."
"You reacted like any alpha whose mate was claimed by another male," Marcus said. "That's not failure. That's instinct."
"I shifted. Partially. Publicly." Alexander's voice cracked. "Wavelander kissed her and I—"
"You defended what was yours. I had to restrain you to prevent worse." Marcus's tone was matter-of-fact, not accusatory. "But you came back. You crossed the barrier instead of fighting your way back to her. That took control."
"Control?" Alexander's laugh was bitter. "I ran. What choice did I have? Stay and shift completely in front of cameras? Kill Wavelander in a human law school?"
"You had the choice to stay and fight for her properly. Through human channels. But you ran instead."
The words hit harder than expected. Alexander's ears flattened. "The bond was already broken. Everyone saw—"
"Nothing was broken," Marcus interrupted. "You just proved the bond exists by losing control when she was threatened. That's evidence, not failure."
They stood in silence. The kingdom forest surrounded them—familiar, ancient, home. But it felt wrong now. Hollow.
"The Council will want to see you," Marcus said finally. "They've been... active since you left for law school."
"Let them wait." Alexander started walking toward the palace. His legs felt unsteady. Everything felt unsteady without the bond.
Marcus fell into step beside him. "Alexander. Whatever they tell you—whatever they offer—remember that you have choices."
"Do I?" Alexander's laugh was bitter. "Because it doesn't feel like I have any choices at all."
They walked through the late-night darkness. The palace loomed ahead—marble and moonlight, beautiful and cold. Home. Prison. He couldn't tell anymore.
Marcus stopped at the palace entrance. "Get some rest. The Council can wait until daylight."
"Will they?" But Alexander was too exhausted to argue. He climbed the stairs to his chambers, dismissed the servants who appeared to help him, and collapsed onto the bed still wearing his human clothes that smelled like Flagstaff and law school and everything he'd just lost.
The bond was silent. Completely, utterly silent.
He tried to sleep. Managed maybe an hour of fitful unconsciousness before nightmares woke him. Wavelander's kiss. The classroom. Cameras. His own loss of control played on repeat.
He tossed and turned until exhaustion dragged him under again.
FRIDAY MORNING — 6:23 AM
He woke to rage.
Not the cold fury from the classroom. This was different—visceral, primal, burning. The wolf was clawing at the inside of his skin, demanding release, demanding action, demanding they go BACK across the barrier and tear Wavelander's throat out for touching what was THEIRS.
Alexander tried to breathe through it. Tried to calm the shift that was building under his skin. Tried to remember he was human, civilized, a law student who understood contracts and jurisdiction and appropriate responses to territorial violations.
The wolf didn't care about appropriate responses.
The shift started without his permission. Bones beginning to crack and reform. Fur rippling down his arms. Claws extending from his fingertips. His ears shifted fully lupine, flattening against his skull in pure fury.
He tried to stop it. Tried to pull the wolf back. But the rage was too strong, the loss too fresh, and the bond was SILENT and he couldn't feel her and Wavelander had KISSED her and—
Alexander grabbed the bedpost and pulled. Wood splintered. The carved mahogany snapped like kindling. He threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall.
Not enough. Still not enough.
He destroyed the chair next. Then the desk. Then the mirror—glass exploding, silver shards raining down, and he could see himself in the fragments: half-shifted, half-lost, completely out of control.
Something activated.
He didn't know what it was. Didn't understand the mechanism. But suddenly the rage... dampened. Not gone, but muted. Like someone had turned down the volume on the wolf.
The shift reversed. Fur receded. Bones cracked back into human configuration. Claws became fingers again.
Alexander collapsed among the wreckage of his chambers, chest heaving, surrounded by broken furniture and his own inability to control himself.
What the hell had just happened?
A knock at the door. "Your Highness?" A servant's voice, carefully neutral. "The Council requests your presence at noon. Mandatory attendance."
Alexander looked at the destruction around him. At the splintered bedpost in his hands. At the shattered mirror reflecting his devastated face in a hundred broken pieces.
"Tell them I'll be there," he said.
The Council chamber was full.
Not just the usual advisors and administrators. Every Council member was present—fifteen of them arranged around the massive circular table like judges at a trial. Elder Mirenne sat to the left with her too-smooth features and silver hair, ancient eyes that reflected light strangely—like they absorbed it rather than catching it. The trade ministers, the territory representatives, the magical specialists who managed kingdom resources.
And at the head of the table, in the seat usually reserved for the king, sat Isaac Wavelander.
Alexander stopped in the doorway. Stared.
Wavelander looked different here. Not like a third-year law student. Not like the helpful upperclassman who'd presented on IPR procedures. He sat in the king's chair with the ease of someone who'd occupied it many times before. Black and gold robes instead of a suit—formal, expensive, marked with symbols Alexander didn't recognize. Brown hair pulled back. Silver eyes catching the light as he assessed Alexander with calculating precision. Crown insignia at his throat. Authority radiating from him like heat.
"Prince Alexander," Wavelander said. His voice was different too—colder, more formal. "Please, sit."
The only empty chair was directly across from Wavelander. Alexander's usual seat during Council meetings. The prince's seat.
He sat. His ears were flat against his skull. Every instinct screamed danger.
"I assume you're wondering about the petition," Wavelander said.
He slid a document across the table. The IPR petition. The one challenging Alexander's bond. The one filed by The Lunar Council.
"We filed early this morning," Wavelander continued. "Three forty-seven AM, to be precise. A few hours after you crossed the barrier."
Alexander picked up the petition with shaking hands. Scanned the first page. Petitioner: The Lunar Council. Patent Owners: Athelia Winters and Alexander Hartwood.
"You." His voice came out strangled. "The Council. MY Council. Filed to invalidate my bond."
"To protect you," Elder Mirenne said gently. "From making a catastrophic mistake."
"Protect me?" Alexander's claws were extending again. He forced them back. "By destroying the one thing I—"
"The one thing that will destroy your kingdom," Wavelander interrupted. His eyes were cold. "But we're not here to discuss the petition. That's just... insurance. Legal mechanism to formalize what should have been prevented months ago."
He stood. Gestured around the chamber.
"We're here to offer you what you should have received years ago. What we've been protecting you from until you were ready."
"And what's that?" Alexander asked, though he already knew. Could feel it in the air, in the way the Council members watched him, in Wavelander's calculating expression.
"The crown," Wavelander said simply. "We're prepared to crown you. Today. Now. Make you King officially."
Silence filled the chamber.
"You've been prince long enough," Wavelander continued. "You've proven yourself—law degree, examination procedures, strategic thinking. You understand jurisdiction and authority and how to navigate between worlds. You're ready."
"What's the condition?" Alexander asked flatly. Because there was always a condition.
Wavelander smiled. "Smart. Yes, there's a condition. One condition, very simple."
He leaned forward, hands on the table.
"Refuse the human woman. Formally. Sever the bond. Take your rightful place as our King."
The words landed like blows. Alexander's chest tightened.
"And if I don't?" His voice was barely audible.
"Then you remain prince forever," Wavelander said. "No crown. No kingdom authority. No access to the resources you need to protect your people. And the human woman..." He paused. "Well. She becomes a problem we'll have to solve ourselves."
Threat. Clear, unambiguous threat.
Elder Mirenne spoke, her voice too smooth, almost melodic. "We cannot allow one human woman to gamble with our species' survival, Alexander. If you choose her over your people, we will end the threat she poses. Not out of cruelty—out of necessity. All things return to prior art eventually. All bonds are subject to... consumption."
"What threat?" Alexander's claws were fully out now, digging into the table. "What possible threat does Athelia pose to our survival?"
Wavelander's smile widened. "You'll understand once you're crowned. Once you see what we've been protecting you from knowing. What kingship truly means."
The trap was perfect. Accept the crown and lose Athelia. Refuse the crown and they'd kill her anyway. No good options. No escape.
"When?" Alexander asked dully.
"Now," Wavelander said. "The ceremony is prepared. Accept, and we crown you this afternoon."
Alexander looked around the chamber. At the Council members watching with varying degrees of sympathy and calculation. At Marcus standing against the wall, face carefully neutral. At Wavelander in the king's seat, already acting like he controlled everything.
They would kill her if he refused. That much was clear.
At least if he accepted, he'd have... what? Authority? The ability to protect her? Maybe. Or maybe he'd just be complicit in whatever they wanted him to see.
"Fine," Alexander said. The word tasted like ash. "Crown me."
Wavelander's smile was triumphant. "Excellent choice, Your Majesty."
The coronation was nothing like Alexander had imagined as a child.
No celebration. No crowds. Just the Council assembled in the throne room with ancient words and formal gestures. Wavelander placed the crown on Alexander's head—heavy silver, embedded with stones that pulsed with stored magic.
"I crown you Alexander Hartwood, King of the Wolf Territories, Sovereign of the Northern Reaches, Guardian of the—"
The titles washed over him. Meaningless. He'd wanted this once. Dreamed of the day he'd finally take the throne. But not like this. Not as a trap. Not with Athelia on the other side of the barrier thinking he'd abandoned her.
"—by the authority vested in this Council, I declare you King."
The crown settled onto his head. Something clicked—energetically, metaphysically. He felt it: connection to the kingdom's power structures. Access to resources he'd been denied as prince. Authority flowing through him like electricity.
And underneath it all: the bond, still silent, now feeling even more distant with the weight of the crown between them.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty," Elder Mirenne said. She actually looked pleased. Like this was a good thing.
"Now," Wavelander said, "you're ready to understand."
He gestured to the Council. They stood as one, forming a procession.
"Come. We'll show you what kingship truly means. What you've been protected from knowing. What you must now manage."
They led him through the palace, down corridors he'd never been allowed to access. Past guards who bowed to him now—to the crown, to the king. Down stairs that descended deeper than the palace foundations should go.
Into the earth itself.
The passage opened into a massive underground chamber. Alexander stopped at the threshold, breath catching.
The chamber was beautiful. Crystalline walls pulsing with light. In the center: a viewing platform overlooking... something. Energy patterns, flowing like rivers of light. Streams of luminescence arcing from one direction toward another.
"Welcome," Wavelander said, "to the heart of your kingdom."
He walked to the viewing platform. Gestured for Alexander to follow.
Alexander approached slowly. Looked down at the energy flows. They were coming FROM somewhere—he could feel the direction, the pull. Human territories. Flagstaff. The university. The city.
And flowing TO the kingdom. Into the crystalline structure. Into the palace. Into his people.
"What is this?" he whispered.
"Survival," Wavelander said simply. "This is how we survive."
Elder Mirenne stepped forward. Her voice was sad but steady. "After the dimensional wars. After we sacrificed our magic to drive off Apocalyptica. We were dying, Alexander. All of us. No magic, no way to sustain ourselves. We fled here—refugees on a world that wasn't ours."
"What—" Alexander's throat was tight. "What am I looking at?"
"The dome," Wavelander said. He touched a control panel. The view shifted, expanded. Alexander could see it now: a massive energy structure surrounding the entire kingdom. Invisible from outside, but from here... devastating in its scope.
"It harvests magic," Wavelander continued. "From the humans. From their dormant reserves. Magic they can't access, can't use, don't even know they have."
Alexander stared at the flowing light. At the beauty and horror of it.
"We're stealing from them."
"They can't use it," Wavelander said sharply. "Would you let us die when they're not using what we need to survive? Is that more moral?"
"How—" Alexander couldn't form words properly. "How long?"
"Generations," Elder Mirenne said, her voice carrying that strange melodic quality. "Since the wars ended. Since Hellfire sent the Horror husk to the River of Souls and tainted it. Since humans became... what they are now. All prior art consumed. All records... corrected."
Alexander turned to her. "What do you mean, what they are now?"
Wavelander pulled up another display. The River of Souls—the Aether Flow that generated life itself. Except it was WRONG. Corrupted. Dark tendrils flowing through it like infection.
"The Horror husk tainted it," Wavelander explained. "Everything generated from the River after that point—all modern humans—they're products of that taint. Synthetic, in a sense. Born with magic locked inside them, inaccessible. The dome just harvests what they'll never use anyway."
Alexander felt sick. "And you built this? The Council?"
"Not us," Elder Mirenne said. "Someone else. Someone who understood the River's mechanics. Who worked with an AI construct to create the harvesting system. It was a scientific experiment—we didn't fully understand the taint's effects at the time. Still don't, truthfully."
"Who?" Alexander demanded. "Who built this?"
"Severen," Wavelander said. And the way he said it—careful, measured—Alexander knew there was more.
"Tell me," Alexander growled.
"Later," Wavelander said. "First, you need to understand the mechanism. And the problem."
He brought up another view. The dome structure, stable and functioning. Then a simulation—the dome flickering, destabilizing, collapsing.
"This system requires specific conditions to maintain stability," Wavelander said. "King without Queen: stable. The flows balance. The harvest continues. Magic species survive."
The simulation changed. Showed a king. Then a queen beside him. The dome immediately destabilized.
"King WITH Queen: dome collapses. The harvesting ends. And we..." Wavelander's voice was flat. "We don't know what happens then."
Alexander stared at the collapsing dome simulation. At what would happen if he accepted Athelia as Queen.
"Every queen attempt has been... prevented," Elder Mirenne said softly, that too-smooth voice making the words sound almost reasonable. "Not by accident. We've killed them, Alexander. For generations. To preserve this. To keep our people alive. Consumed them before they could corrupt the system. Returned them to prior art."
The chamber felt too small. The crown felt too heavy. Alexander couldn't breathe.
"You've been assassinating queens," he said. "To maintain a harvesting system that steals magic from humans who can't defend themselves."
"To keep our species alive," Wavelander corrected. "Yes. And we will continue to do so. Including your human woman, if you choose her over your people's survival."
"What happens?" Alexander's voice was raw. "What happens if the dome falls? If I choose her?"
Wavelander met his eyes. "We don't know. No one has ever tested it. Maybe we die without the harvested magic. Maybe humans with full magic access destroy us. Maybe the River's taint cascades into something worse. Maybe it stabilizes. We have NO DATA, Alexander. Zero. None."
Elder Mirenne touched his arm. "You must choose blind. Known survival with the dome, or unknown consequences without it. Your personal love versus our species' proven survival mechanism. Choose wrong..." She trailed off.
"Choose wrong and I doom everyone," Alexander finished numbly.
"And you'll never know if the other choice would have been better," Wavelander added. "That's the burden of kingship. Impossible decisions with incomplete information."
Alexander looked at the dome. At the flowing magic. At the beauty of survival built on exploitation he hadn't known existed. At Casey and his law school friends and all the humans whose magic fed this system without their knowledge or consent.
At the crown on his head that felt like a collar.
"I need time," he said.
"You have until tomorrow," Wavelander said. "Sunday at noon. Refuse her formally in Council chambers, or we hunt her. Your choice, Your Majesty."
They left him there. In the underground chamber. Surrounded by stolen light and impossible choices.
Alexander collapsed onto the viewing platform, crown heavy on his head, bond silent in his chest, and no idea how to choose between love and species survival when he had no data on consequences either way.
FLAGSTAFF, ARIZONA — FRIDAY EVENING
9:47 PM
Athelia sat on her apartment couch with her laptop open, IPR petition displayed, and absolutely no idea what to do next.
The bond was silent. Completely silent. Had been since Alex crossed the barrier Thursday night. Eighteen hours of nothing—no thoughts, no emotions, no sense of him at all. Just empty space where the connection used to be.
Casey emerged from her room with coffee and determination. "Okay. You need to eat, sleep, or talk. Pick one."
"I need to cross the barrier," Athelia said.
Casey stopped. "What?"
"The bond is silent because he's on the other side. If I cross, maybe—" She gestured helplessly. "Maybe I can reach him. Talk to him. Figure out what's happening."
"Do you even know where the barrier is? How to cross it?"
"Professor Mendez mentioned it once. Campus forest, north edge. There's a crossing point." Athelia was already grabbing her jacket. "I'm going."
"Thelia—" Casey caught her arm. "What if he doesn't want you to cross? What if he's over there processing and you showing up makes it worse?"
Athelia met her eyes. "Then I'll know. But right now I'm sitting here with a silent bond and an IPR petition and no way to fight for us if he's not even here. I have to try."
Casey studied her face for a long moment. Then sighed. "Okay. But text me when you get there. And if you're not back by morning, I'm calling... someone. I don't know who, but someone."
Athelia grabbed her phone and keys. The MPEP too, because old habits died hard. Then headed out into the night.
The campus forest was dark and cold and exactly where Mendez had said it would be.
Athelia found the crossing point by feel—literally. The barrier had a presence, a shimmer in the air that made her skin prickle. Like static electricity mixed with ozone mixed with something older and stranger.
She reached out to touch it.
The barrier resisted. Not physically—energetically. Like it was evaluating her. Questioning her right to cross.
Then words appeared in her mind. Not spoken. Just... known.
To cross requires binding. Accept the terms or turn back.
"What terms?" Athelia whispered.
The barrier showed her: images, sensations, understanding flooding through her consciousness.
To cross into Old Law territory as Alexander's mate meant accepting full bond terms. Child-bearing capacity. Permanent binding. Magical integration. Everything the examination had tested for, now made concrete and irreversible.
Once she crossed, there was no undoing it. The bond would be complete—not just granted, but activated.
Athelia pressed her hand against the barrier. Felt Alex on the other side (distant, hurt, unreachable). Thought about the IPR petition. About Director Vidal's hearing. About Wavelander's kiss and the classroom and everything falling apart.
"I accept," she said.
The barrier opened. She stepped through.
The Old Law territories were nothing like she'd imagined.
Beautiful—marble palace gleaming in moonlight, ancient forest surrounding it, magic humming in the air like electricity. But also cold. Empty. Wrong somehow.
Guards found her immediately. Of course they did—human woman appearing out of nowhere on their side of the barrier would set off every alarm.
"I'm here to see Alexander," she said. "Alexander Hartwood. I'm—"
"We know who you are," one guard said. His voice wasn't hostile, just... careful. "Come. His Majesty is in the throne room."
His Majesty. Not "the prince." Not "Alex."
Something cold settled in Athelia's stomach as they escorted her through the palace. Past more guards. Past servants who stared. Past Council members who watched with expressions ranging from curiosity to calculation to something that looked like satisfaction.
The throne room doors opened.
Alexander stood at the far end, back to her, looking at something she couldn't see. He was wearing formal robes instead of his usual clothes. And on his head—
A crown.
"Alex!" Athelia ran forward. "I crossed the barrier. I'm here."
He turned slowly. His face was... devastated. Exhausted. Like he'd aged years in the eighteen hours since she'd last seen him.
"You shouldn't have come," he said quietly.
The words hit like a slap. Athelia stopped. "What? I—the bond was silent. I needed to reach you. We have to talk about the IPR petition. About Mendez's evidence. About how we're going to fight this together—"
"The bond?" Alexander's laugh was bitter. "You crossed the barrier to talk about the PATENT?"
"Well—yes. We need a strategy. Director Vidal scheduled a hearing and we have three weeks to prepare our defense. If we can prove unexpected results, show that the bond survived separation and attack, demonstrate—"
"STOP." Alexander's voice cracked like a whip. His ears were flat against his skull. "Just STOP."
Athelia froze. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Why are you wearing a crown?"
"They crowned me," he said. "Today. This afternoon. Made me King on condition that I refuse you. That I sever the bond formally by tomorrow at noon or they hunt you down and kill you to prevent the dome from collapsing and potentially destroying everyone because we have NO DATA on what happens if a King takes a Queen and you're standing here talking about PATENT LAW?"
The words came out in a rush, raw and furious.
Athelia stared. "I... what? The dome? What are you talking about?"
"Of course you don't know." Alexander's voice was cold now. "Why would you? You're just here about the patent. The IPR challenge. The legal strategy. Because that's what matters, right? The fucking PATENT."
"Alex, I don't understand—"
"I just learned my entire kingdom survives by harvesting magic from humans who can't access it," Alexander said. Each word precisely enunciated. "I learned that every queen attempt for generations has been assassinated to maintain this system. I learned that if I accept you as Queen, the dome collapses and we don't know if my people die or your people get dangerous magic access or everything cascades into cosmic horror. I learned that I have to choose BLIND between known survival and unknown catastrophe with zero information. And you—"
His voice broke.
"You crossed the barrier to talk about unexpected results and claim construction."
Athelia felt tears burning. "I didn't know. How was I supposed to know? The bond was silent and I thought—I thought if I could just reach you—"
"You thought you could use me to win your patent case," Alexander finished flatly. "That's what I am to you, isn't it? A legal strategy. A claim element. Evidence of non-obviousness."
"That's not fair—"
"ISN'T IT?" He was shouting now. "The Council uses me to preserve their harvesting system. You use me to defend your patent. Isaac uses me for whatever political game he's playing as HEAD OF THE FUCKING COUNCIL. Everyone wants something FROM me and nobody—NOBODY—sees ME."
"I see you," Athelia whispered.
"Do you?" Alexander's eyes were gold-flecked with fury. "Because right now, facing the impossible choice between my mate and my species' survival, you walked in here talking about 35 U.S.C. § 103 and secondary considerations."
He turned away. Dismissed her with the gesture.
"I will not be your fucking toy. I am a GOD DAMN KING. And I will NOT be USED."
The words hung in the air like verdict.
Athelia stood there, tears streaming down her face, understanding crashing through her. She'd misread everything. Thought the patent mattered. Thought legal strategy was what he needed. But he was drowning in moral crisis and she'd shown up with case law.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't—I should have—"
But Alexander wasn't listening. He was staring at the wall, shoulders rigid, crown glinting in the torchlight, completely shut down.
Athelia turned and ran.
Out of the throne room. Past guards who didn't stop her. Past Council members watching with satisfied expressions—this had gone exactly as they'd planned. Down corridors and through doors until she burst out into the palace gardens.
Then into the forest beyond.
Athelia ran until her lungs burned and her legs gave out and she collapsed under a massive oak tree in a part of the forest she didn't recognize.
The bond pulsed weakly—she could feel Alex now that she'd crossed, but he felt COLD. Withdrawn. Like he'd pulled so far back she could barely sense him at all.
She curled into a ball at the base of the tree and cried.
Cried for misunderstanding. For focusing on the patent when he needed emotional support. For crossing the barrier with legal strategy instead of love. For everything falling apart and not knowing how to fix it.
The forest was dark and cold and utterly unfamiliar. She'd never been here before. Didn't know Old Law territories. Didn't know how to get back to the palace or the barrier or anywhere safe.
She was lost. Alone. And it was getting colder.
Athelia pulled her jacket tighter and let exhaustion drag her down. Maybe she'd freeze. Maybe that would solve everyone's problems. The Council wouldn't have to hunt her. Alex wouldn't have to choose. The dome would stay intact.
She closed her eyes.
Drifted.
Woke to warmth.
A campfire crackled nearby. Someone had built it while she slept—close enough to keep her from freezing, far enough to not wake her with the smoke.
Athelia sat up slowly. Looked around.
A man sat on the other side of the fire, tending it with careful efficiency. Beautiful in that otherworldly way that made her think not human. Silver hair catching firelight, almost luminous. Pointed ears barely visible through the strands. Black and gold clothing that looked expensive even in firelight. Features too perfect to be natural - fae, she realized with a jolt. Silver eyes that gleamed like mercury in the firelight, watching her with unreadable intensity.
He smiled when he saw her wake. "You looked cold. The forest is cruel to those unfamiliar with it."
His voice was warm. Kind. Gentle.
Athelia's throat was tight. "Thank you. I... got lost."
"I gathered." He added another log to the fire. "Not many humans wander these woods alone. Especially not crying ones."
She flushed. "I had a fight. With... someone important."
"Ah." His expression was sympathetic. "Love?"
"Something like that." Athelia wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I should probably get back. To the palace. Or the barrier. I don't even know where I am."
"You're safe here," the man said. "Rest a bit longer. Warm up. The forest is dangerous when you're cold and upset."
Something about his voice made her relax. Made her feel safe. He seemed genuinely kind. Concerned for her welfare.
"Where are you from?" he asked conversationally. "Before the fight, I mean. What brings a human woman to Old Law territories?"
And Athelia, exhausted and vulnerable and desperate for someone to just LISTEN, started talking.
She told him about law school. About patent law and examination procedures. About meeting Alex and the bond forming. About the kiss in class and Alex's loss of control and crossing the barrier to find him crowned and furious.
The man listened attentively. Asked gentle questions. Seemed genuinely interested.
"You've had quite a journey," he said when she finished. "And you're very brave to cross the barrier alone."
"Brave or stupid," Athelia muttered.
He laughed—a beautiful sound, like bells. "Often the same thing."
Then he tilted his head. Studied her with those strange eyes.
"I'm sorry—I've been terribly rude. I helped you without even knowing your name." His smile was warm, genuine. "What should I call you?"
"Athelia," she said automatically. "Athelia Winters."
"Beautiful name." He paused. "And your full name? So I can remember it properly when I think of the brave human who crossed barriers for love."
She didn't think. Didn't question. He'd helped her. Built her a fire. Listened to her story. It seemed rude not to answer.
"Athelia Marie Winters," she said.
Something shifted in the air. So subtle she almost missed it. Like a lock clicking into place. Like a contract sealing.
The man's smile widened. "Athelia Marie Winters. I'll remember."
"Rest now," he said softly, those silver eyes watching her with unreadable intensity. "You're safe here. I'll keep watch."
Athelia curled up by the fire, too exhausted to question the kindness of a fae stranger. The warmth was real. The fire crackled peacefully. Everything hurt—her heart, her pride, her understanding of what Alex was facing.
She didn't know that giving her full name to a fae was contract magic. Didn't know that Raziel Flarian now had power over her. Didn't know she'd just traded one trap for another.
Sleep claimed her under strange stars, watched over by silver eyes that gleamed with purpose she couldn't see.
When she woke, everything would change.
WOLF TERRITORIES PALACE — FRIDAY NIGHT
11:53 PM
Alexander stood in the throne room long after Athelia ran.
The bond pulsed with her hurt. Her devastation. Her running through the forest alone and scared and he'd SENT her there with his anger and—
He pushed it away. Had to. Couldn't process her pain when he was drowning in impossible choices.
The crown was heavy on his head. The throne room was empty. Tomorrow at noon he had to decide: refuse her and live with it, or choose her and watch the Council hunt her anyway.
No good options. No escape.
Alexander left the throne room. Walked through palace corridors toward the harem quarters. He hadn't been there in months—not since before law school, before Athelia, before the bond.
But maybe... maybe if he could just... distract himself. Prove the bond wasn't everything. Show he had options. Anything to escape the choice for a few hours.
The harem was waiting. They always were. Beautiful people of various genders arranged artfully in silk and candlelight. Trained in pleasure. Available.
"Your Majesty," the High Priestess purred. "We've missed you."
Alexander looked at them. Tried to feel... anything. Desire. Interest. Distraction.
Nothing.
He tried anyway. Reached for the nearest one. Pulled them close. Tried to kiss them the way he used to—easy, practiced, meaningless.
Nothing happened.
Not mentally. Physically. His body just... didn't respond. At all. Like someone had flipped a switch and turned off his ability to—
Alexander pulled back. Tried again with another. Same result. Completely, utterly impotent.
What the FUCK?
He tried a third time. Fourth. Desperation building. But nothing worked. His body refused to cooperate. Like it recognized betrayal and was shutting down the attempt entirely.
"Leave," Alexander said roughly. "All of you. Now."
They scattered. Confused. Disappointed.
Alexander stood alone in the harem quarters, crown on his head, unable to even betray the bond properly, and feeling more trapped than ever.
Something was protecting the bond. At a level he couldn't override. Couldn't control.
He walked back to his chambers. Sat on the ruined bed with its broken posts. Stared at nothing.
The bond pulsed weakly. Athelia was... somewhere. Far away. The pulse felt wrong—not hurt this time. Different. Like something had changed. Like she'd—
The bond DROPPED.
Not severed. Not muted. But suddenly, sickeningly DISTANT. Like she'd been pulled into another dimension entirely. The connection stretching, thinning, nearly BREAKING—
Alexander doubled over. Gasped. The sensation was physically nauseating. Like losing her all over again but worse. More fundamental. More wrong.
What just happened?
He tried to follow the bond. To sense where she'd gone. But it was too distant. Too thin. Just barely there—proof she was alive, but nothing more.
Alexander pushed it away. Forced himself to shut down the panic. He had bigger problems. The Council's deadline. The dome. The choice between love and species survival.
Athelia would have to wait. He couldn't think about her right now. Couldn't process whatever had just happened to the bond. Had to focus on becoming King. On learning what that meant. On making the impossible choice with no data.
He lay back on the broken bed. Stared at the ceiling. Crown still on his head. Bond silent and wrong and distant.
Tomorrow the Council would teach him how to manage the dome. How to harvest human magic efficiently. How to be the kind of king who chose species survival over personal love.
And tomorrow at noon, he'd have to decide.
The crown felt heavier with every breath.
— END CHAPTER FIVE —
[Continue to Chapter 6 - The Truth]