Aria
Alpha Jethro and Luna Morgana. They're waiting in the west receiving room." She paused. "Should I tell the king?"
"No." The word came out too sharp. I softened it with a breath. "No, I'll... I'll see them."
I shouldn't have been surprised. Of course my father would come. He always did have impeccable timing for making things worse.
The east parlor doors opened, and I froze.
My father stood by the window, his broad frame backlit by afternoon sun. My mother perched on a chair like a queen holding court, examining her nails with calculated disinterest.
I hadn't seen them since my wedding to Davian. Nearly two years.
The shock of their presence here—in Thornwood, in Varder's territory—momentarily stole my breath.
"Well." My father turned, his cold gaze raking over me. "There she is. Our prodigal failure."
The familiar contempt in his voice snapped me back to reality. "What are you doing here?"
"Is that any way to greet your parents?" My mother's eyes finally lifted, assessing me like livestock at market. "I see your time with the Werewolf King hasn't improved your manners. You look dreadful, by the way. Exhausted. Worn. Not at all suited to royalty."
Heat flooded my face—anger, not embarrassment. "I'll ask again. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?"
"Such hostility." My father moved closer, and I had to fight the instinct to step back. "After we traveled all this way to see our daughter. To check on her welfare after hearing such... interesting rumors."
"Rumors?" I kept my voice flat. "What rumors?"
"That you've been taken in by Varder." My mother stood, smoothing her skirts. "That you're living here. Under his protection. Like some kind of charity case." Her lip curled. "How humiliating for our family. First you give away your power like a fool, then your husband discards you, and now you're reduced to begging sanctuary from your ex-husband's bastard half-brother."
The words hit like physical blows, but I refused to flinch. "I'm not begging anything. And my arrangements are none of your concern."
"Everything you do reflects on us," my father snapped. "On our pack. On our reputation. Did you think about that when you made yourself the realm's laughingstock?"
"You have no right," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "No right to come here and judge me. Where were you when Davian threw me out? When I had nowhere to go? When I was alone and powerless and desperate?" I took a step toward them. "Oh, that's right—you were celebrating. Because finally, finally, the disappointment daughter was someone else's problem."
My mother's hand cracked across my face.
The slap echoed in the parlor, my cheek burning. But I didn't raise my hand to it. Didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me hurt.
"You will show respect," my mother hissed. "We are your parents—"
"You're nothing to me." My voice came out cold, dead. "You've made that perfectly clear my entire life. So tell me why you're really here, because we both know it's not out of parental concern."
My father and mother exchanged a look—and something passed between them that made my skin prickle.
"Sit down, Aria," my father said quietly.
"I'll stand."
"Sit. Down." His alpha command rolled over me, but without my power, without being part of his pack anymore, it had no real hold.
"I said I'll stand. Now talk, or I'm leaving."
My mother's perfectly composed mask cracked slightly. "It's your sister. Lyanna."
Everything stopped.
"What about Lyanna?" My voice came out barely above a whisper.
Lyanna. My half-sister. Ten years younger—sweet, gentle, kind. The daughter they actually loved. The one who used to sneak into my room to bring me cookies when I'd been punished. Who'd cried when I married Davian and moved away.
"She's been promised," my father said flatly. "In a binding contract. To Alpha Cole of the mystic furs."
The name hit me like ice water. "No."
"We had no choice—"
"Alpha Cole?" My voice rose. "The man who's buried three wives? Who everyone knows beats his mates to death? You promised Lyanna to him?"
"The pack was drowning in debt!" my father roared. "The territory was collapsing! Cole offered to clear everything—every coin we owed—in exchange for—"
"For your daughter." Bile rose in my throat. "You sold her. You sold sweet, innocent Lyanna to a monster."
"We sold her to save the pack," my mother said coldly. "Someone had to make the sacrifice. Better her than everyone."
"She's seventeen!"
"She's of age by pack law. And the contract is binding." My father pulled something from his coat—a small glass vial filled with clear liquid. "Unless we can offer Cole something better."
I stared at the vial, dread coiling in my stomach.
"What is that?"
"Nightshade extract. Mixed with silver and wolfsbane." His voice was mechanical, emotionless. "Colorless. Tasteless. Completely undetectable in wine or water."
Horror crashed over me. "You want me to poison someone."
"Not someone." My mother stepped closer. "Varder. The Werewolf King."
The room tilted. "You're insane."
"We're desperate," my father corrected. "Alpha Cole wants power. Influence. Territory. The death of the Werewolf King—especially at the hands of his own promised mate—would throw the realm into chaos.
Cole could seize territory, expand his influence, position himself as a stabilizing force." He held out the vial. "You poison Varder. He dies. Cole gets what he wants. And in exchange, he tears up Lyanna's contract."
"No." I backed away. " You must be crazy if you think I would help your selfish agenda "
"Then Lyanna goes to Cole in three days." My mother's voice was cold. "And everything that happens to her—every beating, every broken bone, every night she screams—will be because you were too selfish to save her."
"You can't ask me to murder someone!"
"We're not asking." My father grabbed my wrist, forcing the vial into my hand. "We're telling you. Your sister's life for the king's. Make your choice."
"Varder will kill you!" My voice cracked. "If he finds out—if he even suspects—he'll hunt you down and tear you apart!"
"Only if he lives long enough." My mother's smile was cruel. "Which is where you come in."
"You'll marry him first," my father butted in. "Tomorrow, the next day—we don't care. But you'll accept his proposal. You'll become his Luna."
I was too dumbstruck to speak, it seemed as if I was stuck in a bad dream.
"I haven't agreed to be his Luna" I managed to get out.
"Then agree." My mother's eyes were hard. "Convince him you've accepted. Play the grateful, willing bride."
"And then?" I couldn't believe I was even asking.
"Then you bed him." My father's clinical tone made it worse somehow. "During copulation, when his guard is down, when he's distracted—you put this in his wine. In water. We don't care. Just get it done before the Luna ceremony."
"This is murder".
"This is family." My father released my wrist. "Lyanna is innocent. She's never hurt anyone. She doesn't deserve what Cole will do to her. But you?" His lip curled. "You've always been selfish. Always put yourself first. For once in your worthless life, do something for someone else."
The vial burned against my palm.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then we leave." My mother moved toward the door. "Cole collects Lyanna in three days. And you get to spend the rest of your life knowing you could have saved her but chose a man you barely know instead." She paused.
"Your sister's screams will haunt you, Aria. Every night. For the rest of your life."
"There has to be another way—"
"There isn't." My father's voice was final.
"We've tried everything. This is the only option Cole will accept. He wants chaos. He wants the king dead. And he wants it done by someone who can get close enough to make it happen."
"Let me talk to Varder. He's powerful—he could protect Lyanna—"
"And tell him what?" My mother whirled back. "That your family is in debt to a rival Alpha? That we're so desperate we'd betray our own king? He'd use it against us. Against you.
You'd lose your position here, your protection—everything. No. This stays between us."
"You have until tomorrow night," my father added. "After that, the contract with Cole is finalized and Lyanna is his. Choose wisely, daughter."
They moved toward the door.
"Wait—" My voice cracked. "Please. There has to be—"
"There isn't." My mother didn't even look back. "And Aria? When you make your choice, remember—Lyanna always loved you. Even when no one else did. Even when we couldn't.
She was the only one who cried when you left. The only one who wrote you letters. The only one who cared."
The door closed behind them with a soft click that sounded like a death knell.
I stood alone in the parlor, staring at the vial in my trembling hand.
But what kind of monster would let an innocent girl suffer when she had the power to stop it?
My hand closed around the vial, hiding it as footsteps approached in the hall.
The door opened. Theresa entered, her eyes concerned.
"My lady? Are you alright? You're pale."
"I'm fine." The lie tasted bad. "Just... family. You know."
She didn't look convinced but nodded. "Shall I take you back to your chambers?"
Back to my chambers. Where Varder would eventually find me. Where he'd expect an answer about his marriage proposal.