The Mate Who Burned

The Mate Who Burned

Ivy · Ongoing · 35.4k Words

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Introduction

My fated mate is the son of the Alpha King who burned my home.

And I have been given to him as his bride.

Blackridge's army came through the hidden paths of my mountains. The war took my father. My pack scattered. And the four months before the war are gone from my head, as if someone cut them out.

All I kept from them is a name. Ash.

Now I ride into Blackridge's royal court as the price of my pack's freedom. Prince Edward waits on the steps. One breath of his scent, and I know.

Mate.

I hate him. What I hate more is that his scent is the only thing that lets me sleep.

And somehow, night by night, I fall in love with him.

Then I learn it was Edward who opened the hidden paths to his father's army. The man I love destroyed my pack, and the life I grew up in.

When the lost months come back to me, I will have to choose between the mate I can't stop wanting and the pack I swore to bring home.

Whichever I choose, I will be the one riding away from the other.

Chapter 1

Scarlett’s POV (Now)

The carriage stopped and I did not get out.

I counted the steps up to the doors, then the guards: six in the yard and four along the wall. The banner above the gate was black, with Blackridge's beast's head in each corner.

The wind changed, bringing a scent from somewhere beyond the doors. I leaned toward the window before I caught myself and sat back against the seat. Whoever it belonged to was inside. I wanted to look again, which annoyed me enough to keep me where I was.

"They've been waiting since noon," Naomi said behind me.

"Then they can keep waiting. I spent three days on that road."

She made a small sound. We'd grown up together, though she was a year older and now served as my maid. In company she called me my lady. Once we were alone, she told me exactly what she thought.

For six months we'd slept in barns and borrowed rooms. Wherever we stayed, someone had already decided where I would go next and who would come with me. My father was dead, and my people were scattered between those temporary lodgings and Blackridge's camps. I'd agreed to marry the king's second son, Edward, so they could go home. Now I was here, and they were still waiting.

The steward came down the steps and began a speech about honor. I rested a hand on my swollen knee, trying to find a comfortable position. It had grown worse on the road. From somewhere behind him came the smell of fresh bread.

"You're not listening," Naomi said.

"I'm counting. And smelling bread nobody's going to give me." I sniffed again. "Rosemary. They put rosemary in it. That's just cruel."

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. I was about to ask whether she thought we could get some when the nearest guard turned. The beast's head showed at the corner of his black cloak, and my hand tightened on the window frame.

I'd seen cloaks like that among the trees the night we fled, with fire behind them. Naomi had gripped my wrist hard enough to bruise and pulled me down the slope. I remembered running with one boot, unable to see where I was putting my feet. She'd told me not to look back. I'd kept looking for my father anyway.

I tried to think of something before that night: riding the trails, slipping out to the hunting ground. I knew those places, but I couldn't remember going there in the months before the war. One picture came back instead. My father stood in front of his warriors, saying my full name in the voice he used when I'd gone too far. He was telling me to leave.

I couldn't remember what had happened before he said it. Four months were missing, the last four I'd had with him. I wanted to remember an ordinary afternoon, something he'd said over dinner. Even when I tried, I ended up back at that moment with him sending me away.

"They'll keep you near me?" I asked.

Naomi didn't answer. She was looking past my shoulder, her face suddenly pale. I turned as the scent reached the carriage again.

A man was coming down the steps without hurrying. His boots made little sound on the stone and were muddy to the ankle, unlike the guards'. As he drew closer, I recognized what I'd been responding to.

He was my mate.

I stared at his black coat. I'd agreed to marry a man from the pack that had driven us from home. I hadn't expected to want him near me. Even now, with Naomi silent beside me, I had to stop myself leaning toward him.

"Prince Edward," the steward said.

He was younger than I'd expected, his collar open as though he hadn't stopped to straighten it. He glanced along the escort before looking at us. I wondered whether he was counting too. Then his gaze moved from me to Naomi and paused. It was brief, but I was watching him closely enough to notice.

"My lady," he said, his voice low and even. "Your maid should go in first. The steward needs to confirm her position before she's given a room."

"She came here with me. What needs confirming?"

"That she's to remain with you."

"Then she stays where I am."

He waited with his hands at his sides. Naomi touched my sleeve and gave me a firm, warning look I knew well.

"It's all right," she said, and followed the steward up the steps.

I still wanted to object, but she was already walking away. I climbed out after her. The stone beneath the carriage step was wet; my boot slipped as I put my weight down, and my knee buckled.

Edward caught me under the arm before I fell. Close to him, I almost let myself settle against his shoulder. After the long journey, I wanted to stop holding myself upright for a moment.

His breath caught near my ear. "You—" He paused, then said more evenly, "Careful, my lady. The stone is wet."

I pulled my arm away. "Don't touch me."

He stepped back. "Take your time."

I steadied myself against the carriage. I could still feel where he'd held me, and I was angry that part of me wanted his hand back.

Inside, the steward took Naomi into a room off the corridor. Edward asked me to wait while he spoke to him, then followed them in and closed the door. I nearly called Naomi back. She'd said it was all right, but I hadn't liked the way she'd looked at Edward.

There was a bench beside the door. I stayed on my feet, keeping my weight off my sore knee and listening. I couldn't make out what they were saying. After a while I considered knocking; before I decided, Naomi came out alone.

She was paler than before, her hands moving inside her sleeves. She looked back at the closed door before meeting my eyes.

"What did they ask you?"

"Who I am. How long I've served you. They said I can stay."

"What else?"

She pulled a sleeve over her fingers. "They asked about the war. I remembered it. That's all."

She'd been frightened before she went into that room, too. I wanted to ask what had upset her when she saw Edward, but the door opened before I could.

He came out, bringing that scent with him again. I put my hand against the wall and kept it there. Naomi could tell me the rest when we were alone. There was something I needed from him first.

"When do my people go home? The ones you promised to release."

"The army still has to arrange their release. I'll take you to see them in a few days."

"I asked when they go home. Which day?"

He met my eyes. "I don't have a date yet. I'll tell you as soon as I do."

I waited for him to offer more, but he said nothing. I couldn't tell whether he truly didn't know or simply wouldn't commit to a day. Either way, I had no way to make him give me one. I went past him, slowing a little as I drew level with his shoulder. I kept my eyes ahead.

At the door I turned to tell Naomi to come. I hadn't forgotten what I wanted to ask her. She was looking at Edward's back as he walked away, and when I said her name, it took her a moment to look at me.

At the end of the corridor, he stopped. He did not turn around.

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