Prologue

In ancient times lived the Titaness Leto, companion of Zeus and mother of Apollo and Artemis. Some say she was a shapeshifter who could assume wolf form. Others speak of an unbreakable bond after wolves guided a desperate mother and her newborns to the river Xanthos to drink and bathe. Leto is revered for her strength and courage against her vengeful enemy, Hera, and to this day is worshiped alongside her divine twins by wolves everywhere.

Ashcross Castle, The Eastern Lands, England

Summer 1475

“ Y ou’re not frightened we are being stalked, my love ?”

Hugo’s amused words danced in her mind through their bonded link, but Magdalena de Wynter, Queen of the Eastern Lands and Alpha Female of the de Wynter gray wolf pack, didn’t so much as glance at her beloved mate as they strolled in human form through the lush and fragrant castle gardens. No, not by a twitch would the four precious cubs following them know their thumping paws, swishing tails, and excited snorts could be heard a mile away.

Learning to hunt was a rite of passage, and no wolf started with skill and stealth.

“ I am terrified ,” she returned huskily. “ Surely the only remedy is taking me back to bed .”

“ You are insatiable, madam ,” Hugo growled, the low, rasping tone licking at her senses like a caress.

“ Yes. Just like my mate ,” said Magdalena, almost moaning as she recalled the masterful way he had pleasured her earlier, while dawn cast golden rays over the tempestuous North Sea. Hugo was a magnificent lover.

In truth, he was a magnificent everything. King. Mate. Father. Someone that a baseborn outcast like herself might dream about, but never hope to meet, let alone rule alongside. Hugo was far too important. Not only did he rule the Eastern Lands as anointed king, but he was also keeper of the Book of Lore, the powerful ancient tome that held a complete history of English Wolfdom. No scribe touched it; the births and deaths, battles, ceremonies and laws merely appeared. Legend said the Book had been a gift from Leto herself to recognize the service and bravery of the first Wolf King, and that the flawless ruby-studded lock was in fact blood drops from Apollo and Artemis. From the Book’s constant green glow and low hum, Magdalena would believe it. Whoever held the Book of Lore not only held the Eastern Lands, but knowledge beyond time.

What was entirely unbelievable : how she and Hugo had met.

One fateful day in a busy tavern where she toiled in the kitchens preparing food, she’d been lured out of her corner by an exotic, heady scent. His scent, calling to her like a Siren. As soon as she’d laid eyes on the rugged, fair-haired stranger, the air had snapped and crackled as they’d both pushed through the crowd to reach each other. Then, as Leto decreed when souls recognized their fated mate, her body began preparing itself: the strange tingle at the nape of her neck, the relentless, aching throb between her legs.

Naturally, Magdalena knew of rutting. Wolves indulged their carnal urges without shame, and while it was pleasant enough, she’d always wanted something more. Most males said she was too proud and contrary, certainly too old to find her fated mate. Then she’d met Hugo and discovered the true wanton within. Even more unexpectedly for a mature and seemingly barren wolf, years after their mating ceremony, she’d experienced her first breeding heat. Wolf coupling was often rough and raw, but how they had survived such a fierce onslaught of unquenchable lust, she would never know. This was why those with wolf blood could only breed with their fated mate; they would kill a human with such need and the knotting that made them one. But Magdalena had conceived, and two months later birthed a most yearned-for litter: rare princesses Evaine, Isabel, and Cecily, and Prince Lucan, the heir. To be a mother was a joy beyond words, even if her cubs were the noisiest, messiest, hungriest little beasts in the realm. After initially treating her with grave suspicion, the de Wynter pack now spoke her name with reverence. Finally, Magdalena belonged somewhere.

Every wish had come true. Because of Hugo.

“ I humbly thank thee, my queen. For those memories and all your gifts ,” said her mate, the praise warming her like a cloak in winter. “ It shall be my honor and pleasure to show you how much. But first, we must play the game. Only after the cubs have startled us with their skill will I permit you to retire to your solar for…hmmm, rest and refreshment .”

Magdalena swallowed hard. The way he loved her was quite astonishing, except it was far more than that. He treated her as his equal. They did everything together: hunt, fight, play, and rule over the vast expanse of the Eastern Lands, which stretched from Hadrian’s Wall near the Scottish border, all the way down to Oxford and across to the North Sea. Although they had several estates, their principal residence, Ashcross Castle, was a stone fortress about twenty miles outside of Norwich. Other packs ruled the remaining three quarters of the realm: the Armstrongs over the Northern Lands, Hawthorns over the Southern Lands, and Beaumonts over the Western Lands.

“ I swear I’ll be the most startled mother in England ,” she replied, attempting a meek tone and only managing teasing.

Hugo growled again, his unwavering lust for her flooding their bonded link. But moments later, a large shrub rustled like it was trying to shed every leaf, and their fearless firstborn, Evaine, sprang from the greenery to land beside them with a heavy thud.

Magdalena gasped, then pressed a hand to her chest as three more cubs followed, each louder than the last. “Goddess!”

Evaine prowled around them in a circle, ears pricked and tail up in triumph. “HA! We have you now,” she announced, her voice an endearing blend of high-pitched human child and low wolf growl. As Evaine matured from cub to wolfling to full grown, her voice would eventually settle into the rough rasp of adults, but for now, Magdalena adored the proof her young were still young.

“We do!” giggled Isabel, their sweet secondborn. “Mother and Father must pay a forfeit. What say you, Cecy?”

“More books,” said Cecily, their scholarly thirdborn, and the other cubs groaned.

Lucan, the baby of the litter, and by far the most mischievous, rolled his eyes. “ Honey cakes , Cecy. That was the plan. We capture the king and queen for honey cakes.”

Hugo cleared his throat. “We shall pay your forfeit…”

The cubs cheered.

“However,” their father continued sternly, “Lucan, you must tread softly. Lift those paws. Isabel, no jests while stalking—prey will not fall to laughter. Cecily, I know you are excited to learn, but that tail twitch reveals your position too readily. And Evaine, temper your courage with caution before leaping. Be sure your prey is truly vulnerable and not foxing you.”

“Yes, Father,” they chorused, but plainly their minds were wholly on the prospect of spiced cakes drizzled with honey.

Magdalena sighed wistfully. While their young were not yet wolflings and still some way before full grown, they were definitely no longer babes. Once upon a time they had loved cuddling into Mother to be groomed; now they wiggled and hopped and twitched their ears, impatient to run and play. Yet they were still small enough to think honey cakes a great treat, and she would cling to these last remnants of cub life. Far too soon for her peace of mind they would leave the pack to search for their fated mate, a difficult and often fruitless quest, but even more so for royalty. Between the assassins, the brigands, and the smooth-tongued charlatans…

No. She would not ponder that. Not on such a glorious summer’s morning.

“A moment for me, then honey cakes,” said Magdalena as she reached down, unable to stop herself smoothing each cub’s fur and scratching behind their ears. They were just so adorable.

“Mo- ther ,” grumbled Lucan, narrowing his green de Wynter eyes in such a Hugo way that she almost laughed. There was certainly no denying their sire.

Hugo tilted his head, his eyes glinting. “Be grateful the queen loves you so, cub. If I had my way—”

“My king. MY KING !”

They all froze as a sentry sprinted toward them, his human face flushed and drenched in sweat, and green-and-white de Wynter livery flapping. Then he fell to one knee in front of Hugo.

“Take a breath,” said Hugo calmly. “What news?”

“The Book of Lore,” gasped the sentry. “It is gone.”

Shock rocked Magdalena back on her heels. Impossible! The Book had its own chamber, rested under a glass dome, and was guarded night and day with a six-hourly change. “How can that be? Who was posted to guard duty?”

The younger wolf met her gaze unflinchingly. “Lord Guy, my queen. He is also…missing…along with two other guards.”

She frowned in confusion, struggling to understand the unfathomable words. “You mean they were abducted? Surely there would be a ransom.”

“No. Lord Guy rode out with his accomplices. The stablehands who saw them were knocked unconscious and dragged to an unused antechamber. They were only recently found.”

Magdalena shuddered, crushed by shame. Guy Saville was her cousin and only living relative, another outcast who had been warmly welcomed by Hugo. As kin to the queen, Guy had received every comfort, every freedom of the castle...and repaid that generosity with the worst possible treachery. How had she been so deceived by his courtly gestures and charming smiles that she’d not seen his true heart: a wolf coveting great power?

“When was Guy last seen?” Magdalena whispered.

“Dawn, my queen,” said the sentry grimly.

Hugo snarled, a feral sound of great fury, and the four cubs shrank against Magdalena. Even they understood the grave news, but were struggling to reconcile it with an uncle who had juggled apples and worn oversized shoes to amuse them.

“Noon approaches,” bit out her mate, as his fingers clenched around the elaborately carved hilt of his sword. “He’s six hours ahead. I’ll summon the standing army, every wolf who can be spared, until the Book of Lore is returned. It cannot remain in evil hands. For Guy to wield such ancient power, a power he does not understand— look out !”

Magdalena almost screamed as a longbow arrow sailed over their heads and plunged into the grass mere feet away. Such precision over a high castle wall was only possible for a wolf. A human wouldn’t have the strength or sight. “Cubs! Behind me!”

Her young scrambled to obey, whimpering in fear.

Then Evaine peered hard at the arrow. “Mother, there is parchment attached!”

Hugo strode across the gravel path to the arrow, yanking it from the ground and carefully unrolling the paper encircling the shaft and secured with a dab of hot wax. Moments later, he went ashen, before tearing the note to pieces.

Magdalena gasped. Never had her mate looked thus, both enraged and anguished.

Very, very tentatively, she reached out through their bonded link. “ What message, my king ?”

He scowled. “ Guy has raised an army to challenge my crown. If I surrender swiftly, I, and my cubs, will not be imprisoned and tortured, but executed respectfully. He may spare your life, but you’ll no longer be Queen of the Eastern Lands or Alpha Female of the pack.”

Magdalena’s stomach roiled, and she pressed a closed fist to her mouth to stop herself retching. Guy dared threaten her beloved mate? Her miracle cubs? No. Guy would seize control of the Eastern Lands over her dead carcass. While there was breath in her body, she would fight him. But first, she had to get the cubs to safety. With a different enemy, the castle would be a sanctuary. However, Guy knew every hidden entrance. Every tunnel. Every staircase and tower. Her cousin had asked enough questions, damn his eyes.

Magdalena turned to the sentry. “Fetch my ladies and four of the strongest warriors. Their only duty will be to protect the princesses and prince until this enemy is vanquished. Do what you can to disguise them. But it must be now.”

He glanced at Hugo. “My king?”

Hugo nodded curtly. “Do as your queen commands. Then sound the bell. We are at war.”

The sentry bowed and ran toward the Great Hall.

“Father, no!” pleaded Evaine. “Do not send us away. We can fight!”

“I’ll kill them all!” said Lucan, his eyes wide and jaw trembling.

“Please, Mother,” whispered Isabel, as she rubbed her muzzle against Cecily’s. “We aren’t ready to go alone.”

Magdalena fell to her knees, gathering her cubs close as best she could and nuzzling their heads, her heart already shattering at what this day could mean. “My sweet, precious young. I know you have your sire’s great courage and daring, but you must stay far away from this battlefield. And you will be protected.”

“Why can’t you come with us?” asked Cecily, her tail swishing wildly.

“I fight at my mate’s side,” she replied simply. “That is what it means to be queen. Together. Always.”

Evaine shuddered and tried to burrow closer. “What if…what if Uncle Guy wins the battle? He does have the Book of Lore.”

Pure icy fear trickled down Magdalena’s spine. Indeed, in a fair fight she would wager on Hugo and his warriors every time. But if Guy’s black heart unleashed the book’s power for evil purposes…not even the gods could save them. “He does, my daughter. That is why you must change to human form and leave. We will come for you at battle’s end and eat honey cakes until our bellies groan. Also know this: as long as there are stars in the sky, your father and I will love each of you.”

“But it hurts to change,” whimpered Isabel. “We hate it.”

Magdalena’s heart twisted. The more cubs and wolflings changed, the easier the process became. However, because it was so very painful for cubs, she’d been lax in insisting they practice. This day, it was essential they change. In human form, her young could pass for children of perhaps eight or nine summers. That would gift them time.

Helplessly, Magdalena exchanged a glance with Hugo, who abruptly knelt and encircled them all in his massive arms. “Here, now, why all the fuss about changing and hiding for a while? ’Tis only a battle. Have I ever been defeated?”

“No,” said Lucan, puffing out his little chest. “You’re the greatest king ever. Come, sisters. I know a hollowed tree in the forest that the traitor will never find us, and in human form, we’ll all fit. You’ll feel foolish at supper for being so scared.”

Hugo ruffled Lucan’s fur. “I know you’ll make me proud, son. But remember everything I’ve taught you. Be cautious. Tread softly. Keep still and alert. Now go. May Leto and her divine twins bless and keep you all.”

And with that, after one last, lingering look, their four cubs bounded away.

Magdalena swallowed an anguished sob. Why did it feel like she would never see her young again?

“My queen…” said Hugo, rising to his feet and holding out his hand. “I must away to the armory. The warriors need guidance, to know the truth of what they face. But if you wish to flee with our cubs…I understand. Guy may spare you.”

She hissed. “I shall not spare him. And if it is not my sword that ends his life…I beseech Leto, may it be the sword of my young. Guy will rue the day he challenged my mate and my pack. I am Magdalena de Wynter, Queen of the Eastern Lands, and this I vow.”

“Then let us fight how we love,” said her mate, his gaze humbling her with the depth of feeling as he laced their fingers. “Together.”

“Together, my king,” said Magdalena, squeezing his hand. “Always.”