The thunder rumbled under the dark sky, blue lightning cracking angrily across the earth's surface. If anything, the weather agreed with her tonight, because everything was about to change.
Maybe her life had been doomed from the start. Since the day the prophecy was spoken. If only she could rewrite her own fate.
The echoes of men, lycans, and horses crashed with the downpour and thunder. The sound was too much to bear. Her chest heaved, breath escaping in shallow bursts, her body a trembling mess.
She looked out the window, eyes soaking in the only place she'd ever called home. Albenia. She feared it might be her last time seeing it.
A loud knock tore through her thoughts. The door flew open as a brunette maid rushed in, breathless, eyes wide with fear.
"Your Grace... they're here."
Blue Sara Reign. The half-wolf, half-witch daughter of Albenia. The kingdom's most prized secret. Her father's treasure—and the only thing the Frost Clan had ever wanted.
The roars from outside began to fade as King Huron stepped into the room. She ran into his arms without thinking, desperate for comfort.
"It's alright, child," he murmured, holding her close.
"Father… I'm frightened."
"You look beautiful," he whispered. "Just like your mother on the day I married her… in this same dress." His eyes shimmered with tears, but he tried to hide them. "She would be proud of you, Blue."
"I don't want to leave you behind."
His expression broke, pain swimming in his eyes. "It's for the best."
Tonight, in his own palace, the enemy had come to wed and take his daughter away. If it were a fair fight, Huron would've fought for her. But the war had already been lost. His people were starving. Albenia was hanging by a thread. Some sacrifices had to be made… even if it shattered his heart.
The Frost Empire—also known as the Winter Pack—was made up of pureblooded Lycans, born of the ancient tribes of Valeria in the Northern Ice Lands. They existed long before Albenia ever did.
Sylvia, his beloved mate, was just four months pregnant when her grandmother, the priestess of Shania, spoke the prophecy: "The chosen one shall be their beginning… and their end."
It terrified him.
Werewolves and Lycans had never gotten along. The wolves were simple and peaceful. The Lycans—brutal and wild. Huron couldn't imagine his gentle child bound to their world.
When the first raven arrived two weeks after Blue's birth, he knew it was true. The Frost Clan knew it too—his newborn daughter was fated to be the mate of the crowned princes of Winter.
All three of them.
A nightmare.
He burned every letter they sent. One after another. Until Sylvia fell ill and died, leaving him to raise Blue and Kraven alone.
Now, years later, here she stood, dressed in white, staring into the mirror. The veil covered her face, but not the exhaustion. Her wolf was silent. Gone. Leaving her completely alone to face this cruel fate.
She'd never met the triplets of Winter, but the stories were enough. Wild. Cruel. Unforgiving. And after what they did to her kingdom, killing women, children, elders in the name of revenge—what right did they have to take her?
Albenia, once vibrant with colors and laughter, now lived in constant winter. Five seasons of starvation. Five seasons of grief. All because of Kraven's foolish act that night. And now… she was paying for it.
A marriage for peace. To the same monsters who had destroyed them.
—
"Let us all rise! Here comes the bride!"
The hall wasn't full. Just officials, warriors, and servants in attendance. Her heart raced with every step she took beside her father.
Three figures stood by the officiant.
Her wolf stirred, reacting instantly to the scent in the air—the bond.
Too far to see their faces clearly, but her breath hitched anyway. This was happening. She was marrying the brothers of Winter.
Once they reached the altar, she kept her head down, eyes locked on their feet.
The ceremony moved quickly. Too quickly.
When she finally gathered the courage to look up… three pairs of eyes stared back at her.
Cold, Intense, and Beautiful.
They smelled like sin and snow. And she hated how much she craved it. Just one glance at them and her body betrayed her. She wanted to run to them. To stay.
For a heartbeat, the world paused.
Their reputations didn't match what she saw. These men were gods. handsome, dangerous, and powerful. The raw energy around them made her skin rise in goosebumps.
One had black leather gloves. The others, red and gray. That's how people told them apart.
The one in black gave commands. Coldest gaze. That had to be the leader—Draven.
They said nothing. Just stood still.
She didn't even hear the officiant's words. Not until it was time for the rings. Her father had prepared simple gold bands. She slid them on each brother's finger.
They had nothing for her in return of course. In a short time, it was over.
Blue noticed how the Lycans barely glanced at her. Something was wrong. Her father seemed tense, quietly negotiating with them.
They growled in response.
"What's wrong, Father?"
Huron walked up, his expression strained. "Nothing, sweet pea… It's just… they're insisting you leave with them right now."
"Now? In the middle of the night?" Her voice cracked. "You can't let them drag me out like some slave… Not on my wedding night!"
A voice cut in behind her, cold as ice.
"You've got no choice. Walk, or I'll have someone carry you."
She spun to face him. It was the one in black gloves. Draven. No warmth. No shame. Speaking like she wasn't even a person.
Before she could speak, Huron stepped in
"Please, Draven… she just needs a minute to get ready."
"Father!" she gasped.
"Albenia depends on you now, Blue Sara. I already lost Kraven. I can't lose you too."
Draven grunted. "Five minutes, Huron. Or there'll be trouble."