The moment the throne room doors shut, the court cleared, and silence fell, Elinore knew what would come next.
"We'll handle it," Alpha Corbin said, stepping forward from the shadows near the wall. His voice was graveled and efficient. "I'll take my men."
"And I'll go with him," Randall added, already rolling the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows, like he was about to wrestle the situation into submission.
Elinore frowned. "You don't have to go yourself."
"Yes," Randall said, flashing her a grin. "I really do."
Corbin didn't even glance his way. "We move at nightfall."
Randall nodded once, then turned to Elinore with that same easy arrogance that made her want to throw him out of windows and maybe, just maybe... kiss him out of spite.
"Worried about me, Regent?"
"You're an heir to a throne and a liability," she said flatly. "Of course I'm worried."
Randall placed a hand over his chest with mock sincerity.
"Touched."
She gave him a look that could have frozen molten steel.
"If something happens to you, I have to explain to the kingdom why their prince died playing hero."
Randall stepped closer. "So you admit it. You care."
"I care about the realm's stability."
"And nothing else?" He leaned in slightly.
Elinore didn't answer. Because she didn't like how close he was standing, or how her pulse kicked up under his gaze.
Randall exhaled, then turned away a step. "Fine. Let me ease your fragile human nerves before I go get my fur dirty."
She arched a brow. "What are you—"
And then he shifted.
Not violently. Not grotesquely. Just... seamlessly.
One moment, Randall Astor stood before her, tall and smug. The next, in his place was a massive, obsidian-black Lycan.
Pitch black. Gleaming. Coated in a shine that shimmered faintly under the torchlight. His form was taller than any werewolf she had ever seen. Muscle layered over muscle, sleek and agile, but heavy with power. His eyes, still unmistakably golden, glinted with the same arrogance they held in human form.
Elinore's breath stopped, just slightly.
She knew what Lycans were. Had studied their biology, their mythos, their history. But knowing something and seeing it were not the same.
Randall padded forward on silent paws, towering over her throne now, his black fur rippling with every slow step. He stopped just inches from her, head lowering to eye level.
And then, he huffed.
A short, smug burst of air directly into her face.
Elinore blinked. "You're insufferable!"
He let out a low, rumbling sound. Almost a growl, almost a laugh.
Then without warning, he darted past her, brushing her skirts with his flank, and leapt straight over the throne platform with impossible grace.
She turned just in time to see him shift mid-movement. Fur giving way to skin, paws to hands, and land neatly on two feet beside a stunned guard, already tugging his shirt back over his shoulders.
Alpha Corbin let out a tired sigh. "Children."
Randall winked at Elinore. "I'll bring you back a souvenir, Regent. Maybe a rogue's head?"
"Bring back useful intel," she replied coolly. "I already have enough heads in this court."
He laughed, and then he was gone. Vanishing into the hallway with Corbin at his side.
Elinore sat back in her throne, her expression smooth and calm. Only the faint heat in her cheeks betrayed her. And the sound of her heart, still racing, beneath the silk of her gown.
She sat in stillness long after the echoes of their footsteps had faded.
The flames in the wall sconces flickered, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Somewhere above, the old beams creaked with the wind.
She breathed slowly, deliberately.
Focus.
But her mind didn't return to the reports or the security briefings waiting in her study. It circled instead around the image of him. That moment he changed, not into something monstrous, but into something… primal. Measured, terrifying, and beautiful.
The way he had moved in that form. Effortless and purposeful.
He had wanted her to see it. No, he had made sure she saw it.
She stood from the throne, her skirts rustling softly against the stone steps as she descended. One of the guards opened the door for her without question, but she paused in the archway and turned her head slightly.
"Send word to the northern wardens. I want updates every hour until the prince and Corbin return."
"Yes, my lady."
"And double the guard on the southern road."
Another nod.
She walked slowly through the palace corridors, lit by torches and lined with old banners that still bore the scars of the old war. Her footsteps echoed more than usual.
She wasn't used to quiet. Not like this. Not when Randall had filled every room he'd entered for the past days with noise, smirking glances, irritating commentary, and heat.
Without him, the palace felt...
She didn't finish the thought.
Elinore entered her chambers and closed the doors behind her. Slowly, methodically, she began removing her jewelry. Cuffs, rings, the thin gold circlet she wore during formal court.
She placed each one in its case. Only when she reached for her hairpins did her hand pause.
The scent still lingered faintly in her gown. Smoke, forest, and something darker beneath it.
She clenched her jaw and turned away, shrugging out of the fabric and tossing it over the back of a chair.
She wasn't afraid of him. But she had seen something today that changed the way she looked at him. Something she hadn't prepared for.
She'd seen power in its rawest form, and the man beneath it who knew exactly how to wield it.
And worse still... he knew she had seen it, too.