The council chamber was colder than usual. Or maybe that was just Elinore's mood.
She sat in her usual place at the long table, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of her chair's arm as the alphas grumbled among themselves. Varkas was muttering to someone on his left, no doubt about her continued presence on the throne.
Randall was late.
Deliberately so.
She smoothed the line of her dress, sharp and clean in deep navy, the color of calm just before a storm.
The heavy doors groaned open.
And there he was.
Prince Randall Astor strolled into the chamber like he had not kept a room full of wolves waiting, like he had not been gone for a century, like the kingdom owed him applause just for showing up.
He wore a fitted black tunic, open at the collar, his sleeves rolled to his forearms. It was simple, almost careless. But on him, it looked like power.
Their eyes met and he smirked.
Elinore did not return it.
"Good of you to join us," she said coolly.
Randall gave a mock bow. "Your Regentship."
The word dripped with irony, and yet when he took the seat beside her, the one reserved for the king, he did not speak again.
Elinore straightened in her chair. "Let's begin."
The council worked through reports, none of which truly required Randall's attention. Still, she watched him out of the corner of her eye.
He listened. Not carefully, not intently, but he was listening.
And that was progress.
When the council finally dispersed, Elinore remained seated, waiting until the last alpha had left the room before she spoke.
"You've been here for five days, and you still haven't asked me what your father's decree actually says."
Randall tilted his head, not even looking at her. "I assumed it said something foolish."
"It wasn't foolish. It was legal, and binding." Her jaw tensed.
He turned then, his golden eyes catching the light in a way that made her pulse skip.
"Go on then, Regent. Enlighten me."
Elinore reached into the leather satchel beside her and pulled out the parchment, the royal decree sealed with King Royd's sigil. She laid it on the table between them but did not let go.
Randall's gaze flicked to it, then back to her.
"He named me regent until you return," she said. "And once you return, I am to remain regent for one full year."
His brow arched. "A year?"
"Yes."
"You're joking."
"I don't joke, Your Highness."
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.
"So he didn't even trust me to take over right away."
"No," she said franly. "He didn't."
Randall let out a low laugh. Humorless, almost bitter. "Let me guess. He thought you'd train me like one of your council pages?"
"I'm not here to coddle you," she said sharply. "I'm here to prepare you. Because whether you like it or not, this kingdom will not survive a king who rules out of pride and ignorance."
Their eyes locked again, the air between them tightening.
Randall stood slowly, and she followed, unwilling to let him loom over her.
He took a step closer. Too close.
Elinore didn't back away.
"You really think you know what this kingdom needs?" he said, his voice low.
"I know what it doesn't," she replied.
Randall's gaze dropped to her mouth. Just for a second. It was fleeting, but not quick enough to go unnoticed.
Her pulse betrayed her.
She hated that he was tall enough to make her look up, hated that he smelled like forest and night and something sharp underneath it.
She hated most that her body was reacting when her mind knew better.
"Do you know what I think, Regent?" He took another step, voice even quieter.
Elinore's throat felt too tight, but she lifted her chin. "Enlighten me."
"I think you like ruling too much to give it up."
Her fingers curled at her sides.
"You think I want this?" she asked, her voice low and steady.
"I think you'd rather hold power than hand it to a prince you don't trust."
"I don't trust anyone," she snapped.
Their breath mingled now, far too close.
Randall's gaze searched hers again. "Then why haven't you tried to get rid of me?"
Elinore blinked. That... she hadn't expected.
"I'm not a fool," she said, voice more controlled now. "The council would revolt. The kingdom would split. You may be reckless, but your blood still binds this realm together."
Randall's voice dipped. "And what if I don't want it?"
"Then don't take it," she said, "but don't waste everyone's time pretending you're above it. Either leave again, or stay and learn. But don't stand in the doorway like a child who can't decide whether to run or be king."
Randall leaned in, his mouth nearly brushing her ear.
"I'm starting to think you enjoy having me close, Lady Elinore."
She stepped back, not because she was afraid, but because if she didn't, she might not.
Her voice was like ice. "One year, Randall. That's what your father gave us. One year to prove you can take the throne. And I promise you, I won't make it easy."
Randall's eyes gleamed with something wild. Not amusement, not anger.
Challenge.
"I'm counting on it."
Elinore held his gaze a moment longer, refusing to be the one to look away. But inside, something twisted. Tight, electric, and irritatingly warm.
She turned sharply, walking toward the window, needing the cold to bleed back into her skin. She heard him move behind her, not leaving, just lingering. Like always. Like he couldn't decide if he was here to stay or here to ruin her.
"You think I don't see it," he said after a moment, voice quieter now, more thoughtful than taunting. "The way they look at you. The way the alphas measure your every word. The way the humans expect you to fix everything."
She kept her back to him. "I'm not here to be seen."
"No," he said. "You're here to survive."
That struck deeper than it should have.
"I was raised in a palace that once belonged to my family," she said, voice controlled. "I learned early what it means to be tolerated instead of trusted. That throne will never truly belong to me. Not even for a year."
"And yet you wear it better than most kings I've met," he said, and this time, there was no mockery in his tone.
She looked over her shoulder at him. He was closer than she thought, watching her like he hadn't decided whether to kiss her or curse her.
"Don't flatter me, Your Highness." She said quietly. "I don't need it."
"I know," he said. "That's the most fascinating thing about you."
She wasn't sure whether to thank him or run. But she knew one thing for certain...
This kingdom would either bind them together or destroy them both.
And the clock had already started ticking.