Chapter 2: An Unwanted Oath
The queen’s chambers were colder than Leia expected.
Not in temperature—the hearth roared, logs snapping behind an iron grate—but in feel. The marble walls were pristine, the furs lush, the canopy bed untouched. And yet, everything reeked of someone else's control.
“Get out,” Leia said.
The maids hesitated. One curtsied. “Alpha Cassian asked us to—”
“I said out.”
They fled without another word. Leia stood in the silence, letting her chains fall from her wrists. A servant must have removed them in the night. She hadn’t noticed.
The door creaked open.
“You don’t knock?” she snapped.
Cassian leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “It’s my Keep.”
Leia glared. “And I’m the decorative hostage in your ice palace. Lovely beginning.”
“You’ve been granted more comfort than most prisoners.”
“Is that what I am? A prisoner?”
Cassian entered, voice low. “You’re a symbol. That’s all they understand right now.”
Leia crossed her arms. “Then let’s be clear on the rules of this arrangement. I am your mate by oath, not by choice. I won't play the obedient wolf-wife.”
Cassian gave a humorless smirk. “Obedience was never expected. Control, perhaps.”
She ignored the sting behind that and countered, “Then I want something in return.”
His brow lifted.
“I want access to the Keep’s archives. Full access. No escorts. No restrictions.”
“You plan to read your father’s sins away?”
“I plan to read the truth into light. If you’re so confident in your version of history, what’s the harm?”
Cassian studied her. “Fine. Drown yourself in parchment.”
“I might. Thank you.”
He stepped closer. “There are conditions.”
“Of course there are.”
“You’ll appear beside me at all council sessions.”
Leia bristled. “Why?”
“They need to see you kneel.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then I’ll kneel once. Just once. Publicly. In exchange, I want written permission for archive access.”
Cassian looked amused. “You negotiate like an Alpha.”
“I had to grow up fast.”
He walked past her, pouring wine into two silver goblets. “There’s a feast tonight. To celebrate the union.”
Leia scoffed. “You mean parade the traitor’s daughter around in silk and smile like nothing’s burning?”
“Exactly that.”
She took the goblet but didn’t drink. “Will I be safe?”
Cassian met her eyes. “As long as they believe you’re mine.”
“And if they don’t?”
His voice dropped. “Then you better hold that goblet steady and smile wider than the wolves watching.”
---
The great hall glittered with candlelight and danger.
Lords and ladies raised their cups in hollow toasts. Musicians played war ballads rewritten as love songs. Leia sat beside Cassian, dressed in silver and crimson. His colors. Not hers.
“You look uncomfortable,” he murmured.
“I look betrayed by every thread of this dress.”
Cassian chuckled under his breath. “At least the wine’s good.”
Leia didn’t respond. Her fingers itched for the dagger she wasn’t allowed to carry.
A drunken voice slurred from across the table, “To the new lady—may she keep her claws out of real wolves’ throats!”
Laughter. Some forced, some real.
Leia’s jaw clenched.
Cassian didn’t move.
“Nothing?” she whispered.
“Let them speak.”
“Easy for you. They don’t whisper about your blood.”
“They used to.”
Leia stood. Goblet still in hand, she walked calmly to the man who’d spoken. A minor beta, puffed up with wine and ego.
“Would you like to repeat your toast?” she asked sweetly.
He sneered. “I said—”
She tossed the wine in his face.
Gasps. A servant dropped a plate.
The man lunged—Cassian was there in an instant.
He didn’t strike. He simply stepped between them, placing one hand on the beta’s shoulder.
“Apologize,” Cassian said flatly.
“She—she insulted me!”
“I gave you an order.”
The hall went deathly quiet. The beta swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Cassian didn’t move. “Louder.”
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
Leia stared, stunned. Cassian hadn’t defended her with fists. He’d used power—measured, deliberate.
She returned to her seat. “Thanks.”
Cassian said nothing, but his knuckles were white around his cup.
---
Later that night, Leia found herself alone in the memorial garden behind the Keep. Snow dusted the stone markers—names of the executed etched into bone-white marble.
She knelt before one: her father’s.
No flowers. No offerings. Just cold stone and colder memory.
“I’ll find out what really happened,” she whispered. “Not for your sake. For mine.”
She placed a hand on the marker.
Cassian’s voice came from behind. “This isn’t part of the oath.”
“I didn’t come here for you.”
He stepped beside her. “I know.”
They stood in silence.
Leia finally asked, “Do you believe he was a monster?”
“I believe he made a choice. One that cost hundreds of lives.”
“And you believe Silas was a saint?”
His jaw tightened. “I believe in what I saw.”
“Then maybe we both need new eyes.”
She turned away.
Cassian didn’t stop her. “You’ll have your archive access by morning.”
Leia paused. “Then we’re even.”
“No.” His voice was soft. “We’re just beginning.”