Chapter 36

Chapter 36: Chapter 36

"There was a girl," he said finally. "She used to follow her father to the palace. He was the king of one of the smaller packs, one of the lords who came to pay tribute to my father. She always wore a veil over her face some custom of her people, I never learned which so none of us ever saw what she looked like. But she had silver hair. The most beautiful silver hair I’d ever seen."

Nyra’s hand unconsciously went to her own hair.

"She was clever," Soren continued. "Fierce. She argued with us about everything politics, combat, history. She could quote the old texts from memory. She could best Corvin in debates about potion theory. She could..." He shook his head. "She was extraordinary. And both Corvin and I fell in love with her."

"Without ever seeing her face?"

"Without ever seeing her face." His voice was quiet. "It didn’t matter. The connection was... undeniable. I felt it the moment I met her. So did Corvin. We didn’t realize at first that we were both drawn to the same girl. By the time we figured it out, it was too late. We’d already started fighting. Small arguments at first. Then bigger ones. Then a duel."

"A duel? Over a girl you’d never seen?"

"Over a girl we both believed was our mate." Soren’s eyes were distant, lost in memory. "The duel was stupid. We were sixteen and full of ourselves and convinced that whoever won would claim her. In the end, neither of us won. My father found out and put a stop to it. He told us we were acting like children, that no woman was worth destroying a friendship over. But the damage was done. Corvin and I never really recovered."

"And the girl?"

"She stopped coming to the palace. I don’t know why. Maybe her father’s business with the crown was finished. Maybe she found out about the duel and didn’t want to be the cause of it. Maybe she never knew either of us existed in the first place." He shrugged. "I never saw her again."

"But Corvin—"

"Corvin blamed me. He thought I drove her away. That was the beginning of our rivalry. Everything after that—the competitions, the rankings, the constant one-upmanship—it all stemmed from that girl."

Nyra was quiet for a moment. "You said you made a promise to Corvin."

Soren’s jaw tightened. "I promised him that the next time we both fell for the same person, I would step aside. I would let him have her." He met Nyra’s eyes. "I was young and stupid and trying to salvage a friendship that was already broken. I didn’t know what I was promising."

The weight of his words settled over them both.

"Does Corvin still hold you to that promise?"

"I don’t know. We haven’t spoken about it since." Soren’s voice was low. "But I suspect he remembers. Corvin remembers everything."

They walked in silence for a while. The forest around them was growing darker, the shadows lengthening as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon.

"You asked about the Sword Sovereign title," Soren said, his voice shifting to something lighter. "It’s less impressive than you’d think."

"Tell me anyway."

"I was a first-year. Fresh off the carriage, still young enough to think I was invincible. There was a senior at the time a brute named Viktor Haelstrom. He’d held the Sword Sovereign title for two years and made sure everyone knew it. He was cruel. Arrogant. The kind of Alpha who thought dominance meant making everyone else feel small." Soren’s expression hardened. "He challenged me to a duel. Publicly. In front of the entire academy. He thought it would be an easy victory—humiliate the new royal brat and cement his reputation."

"What happened?"

"I beat him in under three minutes."

Nyra’s eyebrows shot up. "Three minutes?"

"He was big, but he was slow. I was faster. Smarter. Better trained." Soren shrugged. "After that, the title transferred to me. No one’s taken it since."

"How many people have tried?"

"Seventeen. No one’s come close." He glanced at her. "You’re not going to challenge me, are you?"

"Maybe when I’ve had more training."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I’ll look forward to it."

"And the other stories?" Nyra pressed. "You can’t just drop ’I beat a senior in three minutes’ and then stop talking."

So he told her. About the time he’d been ambushed by three older students who wanted to test the new Sword Sovereign and ended up sending all three to the infirmary. About the winter trial where he’d survived a week in the mountains with nothing but a knife and his wolf. About the rival academy from the northern territories that had sent their champion to challenge Shadowmoon’s best, and how Soren had defeated him so thoroughly that the northern academy never issued another challenge.

Nyra listened to every word. This was a side of Soren she had never seen relaxed, almost playful, his usual coldness thawed by memory and exhaustion. She found herself laughing at his dry commentary, asking questions, pressing for details. It was easy in a way she hadn’t expected. Natural.

He’s different when he’s not wearing the mask, she thought. When he’s not being the Sword Sovereign or the Ice Wolf or the Hidden Prince. When he’s just... Soren.

We like this version of him, Luna murmured sleepily. This is the version our mate hides from the world.

He’s not our mate.

Keep telling yourself that, sweet girl.

Nyra was about to respond when Soren stopped walking.

"We’re here."

She looked up. Through the trees, half-hidden by moss and shadow, stood a small hut. It was old the wooden walls weathered and warped, the roof patched with leaves and branches—but it was intact. A single window stared out at the forest. No smoke rose from the chimney. No light flickered within.

"What is this place?" Nyra whispered.

"I don’t know. A hunter’s shelter, maybe. Or an old outpost from before the forest was forbidden." Soren drew his sword. "Stay behind me."

He approached the hut slowly, his footsteps silent on the moss. The door was ajar, hanging crooked on rusted hinges. He pushed it open with the tip of his blade.

Empty.

The interior was small and sparse a single room with a stone hearth, a rickety table, and a pile of old furs in the corner that might once have been a bed. Dust covered everything. Cobwebs hung from the rafters. No one had been here in years.

"It’s safe," Soren said, sheathing his sword. "We can spend the night here."

Nyra stepped inside and looked around. It wasn’t much. But after hours of walking through a hostile forest, it felt like a palace.

"I guess we found a place to sleep," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

Soren was already kneeling by the hearth, gathering the remnants of old firewood. "I’ll get a fire started. We’ll need the warmth once the sun goes down."

Nyra nodded. She moved toward the pile of furs and began shaking the dust out of them, trying not to think about the fact that she was about to spend an entire night alone in a tiny hut with Soren Thornridge.

Alone. In a hut. With Soren.

Stop panicking, Luna said. He’s our mate, not a wild animal.

That’s worse. That’s so much worse.

Luna’s laugh was a warm ripple in her mind. You’ll be fine. Probably.

Probably?

Get some rest, Nyra. You’re going to need it.

Nyra spread the furs across the floor, her heart hammering in her chest. Outside, the sun was sinking below the treeline, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. The Mistwood was settling into darkness.

And she was alone with the white wolf.