Page 1 of A Reign of Malice
CHAPTER ONE
SLOANE
The fire crackles in the hearth, its warmth reaching my skin but doing little to thaw the icy weight that’s settled in my chest. For weeks, that coldness has plagued me—a constant reminder of my failures. My kingdom is dying. My pack is suffering. Everything I’ve built over the last two hundred years is crumbling, slipping through my fingers like sand.
Soon, all that will remain of my reign are whispered memories.
I once called myself a warrior queen. I stood strong, unshaken, certain of my worth and the promise I’d made to my people. But now, as I lie in a bed that isn’t mine, in a castle too far from the land I swore to protect, I can no longer hold on to that certainty. The woman I was feels like a distant stranger, a faded reflection of someone I can’t claim to be.
Clara, my top advisor and closest friend, sweeps into my room like a whirlwind, the door banging against the wall behind her. She doesn’t bother with niceties or even a glance in my direction as she strides to the midnight-purplecurtains and flings them open with a flourish. “It’s time to get up,” she declares, her voice sharp enough to cut through my haze.
Sunlight pours into the room, golden and relentless. Its rays settle over my skin, but still, they don’t offer me warmth.
I groan, burying my face deeper into the pillow. “No.”
My refusal is met with a snort of exasperation. Clara yanks the comforter off with one swift motion, followed by the sheets, leaving me exposed to the morning air. When that doesn’t rouse me, she grabs my ankles, her grip firm. “If I have to physically drag you out of this bed, I’ll dump you straight into an ice bath,” she threatens, her tone as serious as the narrowed green gaze she throws my way. “Maybe a shock like that would do you good.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, my voice low and edged with irritation.
Clara doesn’t flinch. Instead, a triumphant smirk spreads across her face. “There’s my queen. I thought I’d lost you.” Her tone is teasing, and her expression softens as she steps back and heads for the drink cart. She pours a cup of coffee, her movements brisk but unhurried, before glancing over her shoulder at me. “We’ve been in Venaris for a week, and every single day you’ve grown more…pathetic.”
I arch a brow at her, the force of her harsh truth pressing against my already bruised pride. “You might want to choose your words carefully, Clara.”
Her green eyes sparkle with defiance. “I’m not here as your advisor right now,” she says, picking up a second mug. “You need a friend more than anything, and today, we’re going to get your head right so we can figure out what our next moves are.”
“We have a few more weeks. What’s the rush?” I mutter,sitting up slowly, though I regret meeting Clara’s gaze as I do. The glare she levels at me is harsh enough to pierce the lingering fog in my mind.
“Cut the bullshit, Sloane.” She stomps forward, her heels clicking against the oak floor like a warning drumbeat. Two steaming coffees sit precariously in her hands, a friendly offering, yet her frustration doesn’t wane. “I know you’re hurting. I know you feel like you’ve failed, but the time for self-pity has passed. Your people need you.Ineed you.”
Her plea stings more than I’d like, but I take the coffee she thrusts at me anyway, gripping the warm cup like it’s my last tether to reality. “They won’t be my people for long,” I murmur, the bitterness in my voice matching the dark liquid swirling in the cup.
Clara doesn’t flinch. Instead, she grabs my shoulder with her free hand, shaking me hard enough to spill hot coffee onto the bed. My long ebony hair falls forward, creating a curtain between us, but I can still hear the fire in her voice. “Enough of this, Sloane. As much as I don’t like this plan, I’m here because I’ve read that agreement a thousand times. You will still be queen. Your pack will still be your responsibility. Just because our kingdom is all but dead doesn’t mean you’ve failed. You’re here, searching for solutions. Now it’s time to accept the path you’re being led down.”
A blanket of emotions slam into me like a wake-up call, but she doesn’t stop as I look up.
Her eyes blaze with determination as she tightens her grip on my shoulder. “I need you to believe what I’m saying and tell me what we’re doing next. I can give you all the facts, but what we really need right now is your intuition. Your instincts are what make you a great leader. We can’t afford for you to wallow anymore, letting your doubt overshadow your good judgment.”
Her words pierce through my mind and straight into my heart. I set the drink down beside me, my gaze meeting hers. For the first time in weeks, a flicker of resolve stirs in my gut.
Coming to Venaris was supposed to provide answers, a sense of clarity amid the chaos that’s consumed Alcaris. Instead, I’ve allowed my dark thoughts to take root, sapping my resolve and blinding me to the duty I still owe my pack. Clara’s right. I need to be the queen I was once capable of being. That means leaving this bed, stepping out of this room, and truly seeing what this kingdom has to offer.
Because while bonding with King Aeson of Venaris may seem like the most logical choice, it isn’t the only one.
I could walk away from it all—my crown, my land, my people. Queen Isla and Queen Estee would never turn away the shifters of Alcaris. Their mates, Asher and Theo, may be kings, but they’d listen to their queens. I could relocate everyone, give them a chance of survival in another kingdom. It’s a possibility I’ve considered, even though it would shatter me. The thought of letting Alcaris fade into memory feels like ripping my own heart into pieces, ones so small they could never be put back together.
And yet…staying here and choosing Aeson constricts my chest in a way that feels just as unbearable.
His offer is generous, maybe even lifesaving, but it comes with stipulations I haven’t decided if I’m capable of agreeing to. He doesn’t just want to unite our kingdoms. He wants me as his mate. His queen, who will stand by his sideandlie in his bed.
For him, the choice is easy. His fated mate was killed by his brother over a century ago in a jealous fit of rage. But for me? I’ve never met my fated mate. Settling for a chosen one feels wrong. It’s a loss I don’t know how to articulate, a grief that lingers like a shadow I can’t escape.
My wolf stirs, her presence steady but quiet, a faint warmth in the back of my mind. Oddly enough, it’s her that has made me feel any glimpse of ease within these walls. She seems to be at home here, as though this is where we were always meant to be. That sense of comfort, combined with Aeson’s patience and unwavering support, has allowed me this time to wallow. But Clara is right.
That time is over.
I gave myself one moon cycle to decide if I would become Aeson’s mate. That decision can’t be made from a place of despair or my wolf’s uncanny sense of belonging. It has to come from me being the queen I’ve always strived to be.
I stand then cross the room, feeling Clara’s gaze burning into me the entire way. I grab clothes from the closet, and her smirk tells me everything I need to know about how she feels in this moment. Still, she can’t resist a jab.
