Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
“And you come here to seek my advice.”
“Yes. And your ancient wisdom.”
“But you have received my ancient wisdom,” she says. “And you’ve ignored it.”
I look up at her through watery eyes. “The prophecy…”
Her glowing body rises off the ground and her eyes turn white with pure light. “Only the unbound will bind the kingdom whole.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel the words reverberating through every cell in my body.
“But who is the unbound?” I ask in desperation as she lowers back down to the stone floor and her eyes return to their normal eery golden glow.
“Why must you speak in riddles, Oracle? My whole kingdom is in jeopardy.”
“I have given you everything required to save it.”
“The unbound,” I ask, my voice racing to get my questions in before she tires of me and vanishes. “Is it my mate you speak of?”
“I pity you and your species. If this is the best of you, then I do not have much hope for the men of wolves.”
“My mate,” I say, ignoring her jab. “Is she human? Please.”
“She is not of your kind, King Alaric of the Moonborne Wolves. Find her, and your kingdom will be whole.”
In a flash, she’s gone.
I hear the drip-drip-drip of the water landing on stone. The copper scent in the air subsides.
I stagger up to my feet, wipe the water from my eyes, and head out with my heart pounding and my thoughts spiraling.
A human mate.
The very idea feels like treason. Wolves and humans have lived in uneasy peace for generations, old wars buried but not forgotten.
To cross that line could shatter everything.
Or, it could save it all.
Only the unbound will bind the kingdom whole.
I have no choice.
I run through the forest, traveling as fast as these two slow legs will take me.
My thoughts race faster than my body.
A human mate.
My kingdom, my shifters, my wolf… they all depend on a human.
I shudder at the thought.
By the time Moonborne Castle comes into view, the decision has already been made.
I hate myself for it.
But I will not let my kingdom fall. I will not betray the wolves who trust me.
I am alpha. I will endure.
I will invoke the Vocatio Regia.
For the first time in centuries, it will be done.
Even if it damns me.
Chapter Three
Morwen
When the village bells start clanging, signalling one hour until the end of the weekend fair, my candle table is almost bare.
An empty table means I won’t be hauling crates of unsold candles back up the hill like some poor, miserable pack mule.
I grin as I sneak a peek under the table at all of the money I made.
I smooth my hands over my apron, trying not to look too pleased with myself.
It’s not dignified to gloat at a weekend fair.
But it is satisfying. I started this business from scratch.
Not to brag, but I make the best candles for miles. I don’t even have to haggle or negotiate anymore, which I hate. I just set my price and people pay it. If they try to play hardball and pretend to walk away, they might be greeted by an empty table when they return.
And then it’s hello to dark nights and stubbed toes.
People played those kinds of games with me early in my candle-making career, but not anymore. They know who makes the best candles in this part of the kingdom and they eagerly hand over their money for the highest quality products around.
“All sold out?” Isolde asks. She’s at the table next to me, selling homemade bread with her daughter Lyris. She didn’t fare as well. I don’t have the heart to tell her, but her bread is always way too dry.
“Almost,” I say, collecting what little I have left. I have to get to the beekeeper to buy some beeswax and to a few butchers who always save me their animal fat.
The beeswax is for the premium candles. Only the nobility, a few wealthy merchants, and the church buy those. The rest of the villagers buy the ones made from animal fat. They don’t burn as clean, but I still work my darnedest to give them a good product.
“I have a few extra,” I say, handing over three long candles—two made from animal fat and one from beeswax. “For being such good neighbors today.”
“Bless you, Morwen,” Isolde says, handing me a loaf of bread. If it’s too dry, I can feed it to my chickens at home.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling as I hold it to my chest.
“I have something else you may like,” Isolde says with a grin.
I glance at her burnt pastries and fight back a wince. I don’t think so…
“A husband.”
“A what?!” I choke out in shock.
“Mom!” Lyris says, rolling her eyes. “Will you stop?”
Isolde ignores her. “My nephew Fen. I think you two would really hit it off.”
“Mom, Fen is a total weirdo. Morwen won’t like him.”