They sold me to the ‘demon prince’ because I wasn’t ‘pure’ anymore. Plot twist: the demon prince was the lion-shifter I’d saved in that cabin. Plot twist #2: the baby I was hiding? His royal heir. He crashed my wedding, carried me home, and now calls me his treasure. Best arranged marriage ever.
The forbidden forest stretched beyond the eastern border of the empire—a place where children were warned not to play and adults whispered prayers before crossing. Ancient trees twisted toward a moon that never seemed to move, their roots cracking through bones of travelers who’d ventured too deep and never returned.
Elowen had run there to escape her sister’s cruelty.
“Look at you,” Beris had sneered that morning, ripping the threadbare blanket from Elowen’s cot. “Eighteen years old and still sleeping in the servants’ quarters like the stray you are. Mother should have drowned you in the river when she had the chance.”
The words had cut deeper than any blade. Elowen had bitten her tongue—she’d learned years ago that fighting back only made things worse—and slipped out the kitchen door before dawn, her rabbit feet silent on the frozen ground, her ears pressed flat against her skull.
She hadn’t meant to find the cabin.
It appeared between one breath and the next—a small hunting lodge built from black timber, its windows dark, its door hanging open like a mouth waiting to swallow her whole.
“Hello?”
No answer. But something was inside. She could feel it—a pressure in the air, a weight pressing against her chest like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.
She pushed the door open.
The cabin smelled of pine and blood.
He lay on the floor—massive, golden, barely human. A lion shifter trapped in the throes of power eruption, his body convulsing violently, veins bulging across his arms and neck like rivers about to burst. Sweat soaked through his torn clothes. His eyes—when they found hers—were wild, desperate, barely holding onto consciousness.
“Get out,” he roared, and the sound shook the walls. “Before I lose control.”
Elowen’s legs screamed at her to run. Every instinct honed by eighteen years of survival told her to flee. Rabbit shifters didn’t fight. Rabbit shifters ran. That was the law of the wild, the hierarchy of predators and prey, the unbreakable rule that had kept her alive in a world that had never wanted her.
But his eyes.
His eyes were golden—the exact shade of the sunrise over the wheat fields she’d watched as a child, before her father remarried, before Beris was born, before everything good had been stolen from her. And those golden eyes were fighting. Not fighting her—fighting himself. Fighting whatever was destroying him from the inside, refusing to let go, refusing to surrender.
He’d saved her life once.
Three years ago, at the autumn festival, when Beris had pushed her into the river and she’d been too weak to swim. A stranger—tall, cloaked, golden-eyed—had pulled her from the water and disappeared before she could thank him.
She’d never forgotten those eyes.
“If he keeps going like this, he’ll rupture his blood vessels and die,” she whispered.
Her spiritual power was pitiful—barely enough to light a candle, certainly not enough to calm a rampaging lion prince. But there was another way. The old stories whispered among rabbit shifters, passed down from mother to daughter for generations: pure essence could calm any beast. A willing sacrifice of flesh and spirit, two bodies becoming one, sharing heat and power until the storm passed.
She’d thought it was just a fairy tale.
“Please,” he gasped, his voice cracking. “I can’t—I’m going to hurt you—”
“No, you’re not.”
She stepped forward, her hands shaking, her heart pounding so loud she was certain he could hear it. “You saved me once. I won’t abandon you.”
“Don’t—”
“Too late.”
She knelt beside him, and when he tried to push her away, she grabbed his hand—the same hand that had pulled her from the river, she realized, larger now, claws extended, but still somehow gentle—and pressed it against her heart.
“Stay with me,” she said. “Breathe with me.”
His body was burning. Fever-hot, like touching embers. But when he looked at her, something shifted in his expression—recognition, perhaps, or the first stirrings of memory.
“I know you,” he breathed.
“You don’t. We’ve never met.”
“I know you.”
And then he stopped fighting.
Morning came too fast.
Elowen woke alone on the cabin floor, wrapped in a blanket that hadn’t been there before. Someone had covered her. Someone had tucked the edges beneath her shoulders like she was precious.
He was gone.
She sat up slowly, wincing at the ache between her legs, the soreness in her muscles, the strange warmth that still lingered in her belly. The cabin was empty except for the lingering scent of pine and something else—something wild and clean, like a forest after rain.
On the floor beside her lay a single gold coin.
She picked it up, turning it over in her palm. It was stamped with the royal crest: a lion rampant beneath a crescent moon.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
The cabin. The forbidden forest. The lion shifter with golden eyes.
She’d just spent the night with the crown prince.
Two weeks later, Elowen’s hands trembled over her stomach.
The midwife—an ancient rabbit shifter named Mira who’d delivered half the children in the village—had confirmed it that morning. “Congratulations, my lady. You’re approximately two weeks along.”
“But I’ve never—I mean, I’m not—”
Mira’s eyes had grown soft with understanding. “The body doesn’t lie, child. You’re carrying a baby. A strong one, too—I can feel its spiritual energy from here.”
Elowen had fled the midwife’s cottage before she could ask more questions, her mind spinning, her stomach churning.
She didn’t even know his name.
She’d spent the night with the crown prince—the “demon prince,” the massacre machine, the noble who, rumor said, had killed more people than the last three wars combined. She’d heard the stories: how he’d slaughtered an entire battalion single-handedly, how he’d executed his own advisors for disagreeing with him, how he buried a woman in his garden every single night and used their bodies for fertilizer.
And now she was carrying his child.
“You look pale.”
Elowen spun around. Her stepmother stood in the doorway of the kitchen garden, arms crossed, lips pursed in disapproval.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’ve been sneaking around for weeks, coming home at dawn with that guilty look on your face. I know what you’ve been doing.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I know you’re not pure anymore.” Her stepmother’s voice dropped to a hiss. “I can smell it on you—the musk of a predator. You’ve been with someone. An animal. And now you’re carrying its seed.”
Elowen’s blood ran cold. “Please. Don’t tell Father.”
“Tell him? Why would I waste my breath?” Her stepmother smiled—a thin, cruel expression that made Elowen’s stomach drop. “The Queen’s messenger arrived this morning. They’re looking for the purest maiden in the empire to marry Prince Kael.”
“Prince Kael?”
“The demon prince himself.” Her stepmother’s smile widened. “And guess who they chose?”
“No.”
“Yes. The council reviewed every eligible noble daughter in the empire, and they selected you. The weakest, most pathetic rabbit in the entire kingdom. Isn’t that ironic?”
“I can’t marry him. I’m betrothed to Lord Lyos—”
“Lord Lyos is marrying Beris now. The contracts have already been signed.” Her stepmother stepped closer, close enough that Elowen could smell the sour wine on her breath. “You have three days to prepare. The Queen herself will attend the consummation ceremony. And if you can’t produce virgin blood on your wedding night—”
“They’ll throw me to the beasts.”
“Exactly.”
Three days.
Seventy-two hours to find a miracle that didn’t exist.
Elowen spent them alternating between vomiting into chamber pots and staring at her reflection in the mirror, trying to see what the council had seen. She was small—even for a rabbit shifter—with mousy brown hair and ears that never quite stood up straight. Her eyes were too big for her face, her hands too thin, her tail a pathetic little puff that tucked between her legs at the first sign of danger.
She was not queen material.
She was not even servant material.
Beris visited her on the second night, sweeping into Elowen’s tiny attic room like she already owned the manor.
“Little sister. How are you feeling?”
“Go away.”
“I just wanted to say goodbye.” Beris perched on the edge of Elowen’s cot, her fox ears twitching with satisfaction. “After all, you’re getting married tomorrow. To the demon prince. And I’m marrying the man of my dreams.”
“Lyos never wanted you.”
“He wants me now. And you—” Beris’s eyes dropped to Elowen’s stomach, still flat but somehow already different. “You’re not exactly marriage material anymore, are you? Pregnant with some mongrel’s bastard. If the prince finds out—”
“He won’t.”
“Of course he won’t. Because you’ll be dead before the wedding night is over.” Beris stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirts. “Goodbye, little sister. I hope the beasts enjoy their meal.”
The wedding ceremony was held in the Grand Temple—a soaring cathedral of white stone and golden spires, its walls lined with statues of ancient lion kings and their rabbit queens. Elowen had never been inside before. She’d never been anywhere that required invitations and fine clothes and the careful application of cosmetics to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes.
“Head up,” the handmaiden hissed. “Shoulders back. You’re marrying a prince, not being led to slaughter.”
*Same thing,* Elowen thought, but she lifted her chin and walked down the aisle on legs that barely held her weight.
The church was packed. Nobles from every corner of the empire had gathered to witness the demon prince’s wedding—the event of the decade, they were calling it. Elowen recognized none of them. She saw only the altar, and the man waiting there.
Prince Kael.
He was taller than she remembered—taller than anyone in the room, his shoulders broad beneath the gold-and-crimson ceremonial armor, his hair dark and wild, falling across a face that belonged on ancient coins. His beast features were prominent: lion ears pricked forward, a tail that lashed slowly behind him, and eyes—
Golden eyes.
The same eyes that had pulled her from the river. The same eyes that had burned with desperate hunger in the hunting cabin. The same eyes that had watched her sleep beneath a borrowed blanket.
He didn’t recognize her. She could see it in the cold, distant way he studied her—like she was a piece of meat being offered for his approval.
“Present the bride,” the High Priest intoned.
Elowen knelt before the altar, her hands pressed together, her forehead touching the cold stone. Her rabbit ears trembled. She couldn’t stop them.
“Place your hand on the Sacred Relic.”
The relic sat in the center of the altar—a black stone carved with ancient runes, pulsing faintly with silver light. It was said to contain a fragment of the Moon Goddess’s own power, capable of discerning truth from lies, purity from corruption.
If she touched it, it would expose her.
“I, Elowen, swear before the Queen and the Moon Goddess—”
Her hand hovered over the stone. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Behind her, she could hear Beris’s soft laughter.
*I’m going to die. My baby is going to die.*
“I will remain faithful to Prince Kael—”
*Please. Please. Let my power be enough. Just this once.*
“—preserve my purity for him—”
*I’m lying. I’m lying to the Moon Goddess herself.*
“—and bear a pure-blood heir for the royal family.”
She touched the stone.
And nothing happened.
“The Sacred Relic has recognized the princess,” the High Priest announced. “The oath is sworn.”
Elowen nearly collapsed with relief. Around her, the nobles applauded politely. The Queen nodded from her throne. Beris’s face twisted with confusion and rage.
*How?* Elowen thought. *I’m not pure. I’m pregnant. How did I fool the relic?*
Prince Kael stepped forward. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He simply took her hand—his grip warm, familiar, sending a jolt through her spine—and led her toward the royal carriage.
“You’re trembling,” he said.
“It’s cold.”
“It’s summer.”
“I’m nervous.”
His eyes met hers. For a moment—just a moment—something flickered in those golden depths. Recognition? Curiosity? Hunger?
“Don’t be,” he said. “You belong to me now.”
The wedding night suite was draped in crimson silk and candlelight.
Elowen sat on the edge of the enormous bed, her wedding dress pooling around her like a puddle of blood, her hands clasped in her lap. Outside, she could hear the muffled voices of the royal elders, waiting to witness the consummation.
“Are you ready?” Kael stood by the window, his back to her, his silhouette dark against the moonlight.
“No.”
“Good answer.”
He turned, and for the first time, she saw his face without the ceremonial mask. He was beautiful—impossibly, terrifyingly beautiful—with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw and eyes that seemed to see straight through her skin.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“That’s not what the rumors say.”
“The rumors also say I bury women in my garden. Do you believe those?”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
Kael crossed the room in three strides, stopping inches from her. His presence was overwhelming—heat and power and that wild, pine-and-rain scent that she remembered from the cabin.
“What do you remember about that night?” he asked.
Her heart stopped. “What night?”
“Don’t play games with me, rabbit. I’ve been searching for you for two weeks. I had my guards comb every inch of the forbidden forest. And then you appeared at my wedding—pregnant, terrified, and somehow still standing.”
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew. I didn’t recognize you at first—the power eruption damaged my memory. But when you touched the relic, I felt it. The bond.” He held up his wrist, where a thin silver thread had appeared—glowing faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. “We’re connected now. Soul-linked. If you die, I die.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what it means.” He knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “You saved my life in that cabin. Twice. First by staying when you should have run, and second by—” He paused, his jaw tightening. “By giving me something I didn’t deserve.”
“You don’t remember what happened.”
“I remember enough. I remember your hands on my face. I remember your voice telling me to breathe. And I remember waking up alone, covered in your scent, with a gold coin in my pocket that I don’t remember leaving.”
“I kept that coin.”
“I know. I found it in your belongings.”
Elowen’s face flushed. “You went through my things?”
“I went through everything. I needed to know who you were. Where you came from. Why you helped me.” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face with surprising gentleness. “Your stepmother starved you. Your sister beat you. Your father looked the other way. And yet you risked your life for a stranger.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“No.” His voice was flat, certain. “I’ve killed more people than I can count. I’ve burned villages. I’ve executed my own soldiers for disobeying orders. I’m not a good man, Elowen.”
“I don’t need a good man.”
“What do you need?”
She looked at him—this monster, this demon, this stranger who’d somehow become the father of her child—and made a choice.
“I need you to protect my baby.”
“Your baby is my baby. The heir to the lion throne. The strongest bloodline in the empire.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I will die before I let anyone harm either of you.”
The elders grew impatient.
“Your Highness, the hour grows late. Please proceed with the consummation ceremony, or we will be forced to—”
“Pull back the curtains,” the Queen ordered. “I will witness this myself.”
Elowen’s blood turned to ice. “They’re going to see. They’re going to know.”
“Not if I give them something else to look at.”
Kael rose, pulling her to her feet. His hands were steady on her waist, his eyes burning with something that looked almost like tenderness.
“Trust me.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“You know me better than anyone.”
He kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle—it was claiming, branding, a performance for the audience beyond the curtains. His mouth moved against hers with practiced intensity, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her against him.
But beneath the performance, she felt something else.
His spiritual power, flooding into her like warm honey. Strengthening her. Hiding her secret.
*He’s protecting me.*
*He’s protecting our baby.*
“Scream,” he whispered against her lips.
“What?”
“Scream. Give them what they want.”
She screamed—not in pain, but in surprise, as he lifted her off her feet and carried her toward the bed. The curtains trembled. The elders murmured with satisfaction.
“Good girl,” Kael breathed.
And then the horns sounded.
“INVASION!”
The cry echoed through the palace corridors, urgent and terrified. Elowen’s head snapped up. Kael’s body went rigid.
“Other tribes have breached the border,” a guard shouted. “Your Highness, they’ve broken through the eastern defenses—”
“Now?” Kael released her, his face hardening into something cold and dangerous. “They attack now?”
“The timing is suspicious, my lord. Someone must have tipped them off about the wedding.”
Someone. Elowen thought of Beris’s smile, her stepmother’s knowing eyes. *They wanted me dead. They wanted the ceremony disrupted. They wanted—*
“Stay here,” Kael ordered. “Don’t leave this room. Don’t trust anyone.”
“Where are you going?”
“To end this war before it begins.”
He strode toward the door, armor materializing around him in a shimmer of golden light. His lion ears were flat against his head, his tail lashing, his eyes burning with fury.
“Kael—”
He paused.
“Come back to me.”
For a moment, his expression softened. “I always come back, little rabbit. I always come back.”
And then he was gone.
The invasion lasted three days.
Elowen spent them locked in the wedding suite, pacing the crimson carpets, her hand pressed to her still-flat stomach. Servants brought food she couldn’t eat. Handmaidens tried to brush her hair, but she waved them away.
“Any news from the front?”
“None, my lady.”
“Has anyone seen the prince?”
“No, my lady.”
On the second night, the soul bond thread on her wrist flared red.
She’d noticed it the morning after the wedding—a thin silver cord wrapped around her left wrist, identical to the one on Kael’s. The elders had explained it was a side effect of the relic’s blessing, a sign that their fates were now intertwined.
“If one dies, both die,” the High Priest had said solemnly.
Now the thread was burning red—pulsing with heat, tugging at her skin like it wanted to pull her somewhere.
*Kael is hurt.*
*Kael is dying.*
She ran.
The guards tried to stop her. The handmaidens begged her to stay. But the thread pulled her forward, out of the palace, through the city gates, across the battlefield where bodies lay scattered like broken dolls.
She found him at the edge of the forest—the same forest where they’d first met.
“Kael!”
He was on his knees, blood pouring from a wound in his side, his golden armor cracked and smoking. Around him lay the bodies of a dozen enemy soldiers—wolf shifters, by the look of their snarling faces and matted fur.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he gasped.
“You’re dying.”
“I’ll be fine. Go back.”
“No.” She knelt beside him, pressing her hands against his wound. Blood soaked through her dress, hot and sticky. “I’m not leaving you.”
“The baby—”
“The baby is fine. But you—” Her voice cracked. “You can’t die. I won’t let you.”
“I’ve killed hundreds of people, Elowen. Thousands. I don’t deserve—”
“I don’t care what you deserve. I care that you came back for me. I care that you’ve been protecting those women in your garden. I care that you looked at me like I was something precious when no one else ever has.”
His golden eyes widened. “How do you know about the garden?”
“I broke in. I saw them. All those women you’ve been hiding, the ones everyone thinks you murdered. You’ve been saving them. Letting the world believe you’re a monster so they could live.”
“Elowen—”
“I know you, Kael. Behind the mask. Behind the rumors. Behind everything. And I’m not going to let you die.”
She kissed him—not for the audience this time, not for performance, but because she wanted to. Because he was bleeding in her arms and she didn’t know how else to tell him that she’d fallen in love with a monster who wasn’t a monster at all.
The soul bond thread blazed white-hot.
And then it turned red.
“The thread has recognized mutual love,” the healer said later, after Kael had been stabilized, after the battle had been won, after Elowen had finally stopped shaking. “This is unprecedented, Your Highness. The bond has never—”
“I know what it means.”
Kael sat propped against pillows in the infirmary, his wound bandaged, his face pale but alive. Elowen sat beside him, their hands intertwined, the red thread glowing softly between them.
“You could have died,” she said.
“I didn’t.”
“You almost did.”
“But I didn’t.” He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Because of you.”
“Because you’re too stubborn to die.”
“Because I had something to live for.”
The healer discreetly withdrew, leaving them alone in the candlelit room. Outside, the palace was still celebrating the victory—the demon prince had single-handedly turned the tide of battle, they were saying, had slaughtered the enemy commander and sent the rest fleeing.
They didn’t know that he’d almost bled out in the forest.
They didn’t know that a rabbit shifter had saved his life.
“The baby,” Kael said quietly. “Are you certain it’s all right?”
“The healer checked. Stronger than ever, apparently. She said it’s already manifesting lion spiritual energy.”
“Of course it is. My blood doesn’t produce weak offspring.”
“Your blood also doesn’t produce modest offspring.”
Kael laughed—a real laugh, warm and surprised, transforming his face into something almost boyish. “You’re the only person who’s ever spoken to me like that.”
“Someone should.”
“I’ve spent my whole life being feared. Hated. Called a demon, a monster, a massacre machine.” He turned to look at her, his golden eyes soft. “And then a little rabbit walked into my hunting cabin and saved my life because she couldn’t stand to watch me die.”
“You’re not a demon, Kael.”
“I’m not sure what I am anymore.”
“You’re the father of my child. You’re the prince who’s been secretly protecting innocent women for years. You’re the man who kissed me in front of the entire court to hide my pregnancy.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re the man I love.”
The red thread pulsed, warm against her skin.
“I love you too,” Kael said. “I didn’t think I was capable of it. But then you—”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you almost got yourself killed trying to protect me. Because you’ve been taking care of me since before we even met. Because when I look at you, I don’t see a monster. I see someone who’s been alone for a very long time, waiting for someone to see past the mask.”
He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. Her rabbit ears twitched against his cheek, and he smiled.
“You’re trembling again.”
“I’m always trembling around you.”
“Good. I like knowing I affect you.”
“Arrogant.”
“Confident.”
“Same thing.”
He kissed the tip of her ear. “Marry me.”
“I’m already married to you.”
“Marry me again. Properly. Without the court watching. Without the relic. Just you and me and the moon.”
Elowen’s heart swelled. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“I’m a demon prince. We don’t do romantic.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“Shut up and say yes.”
“Yes.”
They held the second wedding in the forbidden garden.
Not the dark, twisted place of rumors and fear—but the real garden, the one Kael had built over years of secret mercy. Flowers bloomed in every color, their petals glowing faintly in the moonlight. The women he’d saved lined the path, their faces bright with hope and gratitude.
“Who gives this bride?” the High Priest asked.
No one answered. Elowen’s family had disowned her. Her father had sent a letter renouncing her name. Her stepmother had been exiled. Beris was in the mines, her beast ears severed, her tail broken, her power stripped.
“I give myself,” Elowen said.
Kael took her hand. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
They exchanged vows beneath the three moons—vows that had nothing to do with politics or bloodlines or the relic’s blessing. Vows that came from the heart.
“I promise to protect you,” Kael said. “Not because you’re carrying my heir, but because you’re carrying my heart.”
“I promise to stay,” Elowen said. “Not because I have nowhere else to go, but because you’re where I belong.”
The soul bond thread turned gold.
The women in the garden wept with joy.
And somewhere in the palace, the Queen watched from her window, her expression unreadable.
“He loves her,” she murmured to her advisor.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Truly loves her. Not for politics. Not for the bloodline. Just… loves her.”
“It appears so.”
The Queen was silent for a long moment. Then she smiled—a genuine smile, the first in years.
“Good. He deserves happiness.”
The twins were born on the first night of spring.
Elowen had been in labor for eighteen hours, her screams echoing through the palace corridors, her hand crushing Kael’s with each contraction.
“You’re doing great,” he said, his voice strained.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying. You’re almost there.”
“I can see the crown,” the midwife announced. “Push, my lady. Push!”
One final scream. One final surge of pain and terror and blinding, overwhelming love.
And then: crying.
Two tiny voices, wailing in unison, filling the room with the sound of new life.
“A boy,” the midwife said, placing the first baby in Elowen’s arms. “And a girl.”
Kael stared at them, his golden eyes wide, his hands trembling.
“They’re beautiful,” he whispered.
“They have your eyes.”
“Both of them?”
“Both of them.” Elowen smiled, exhausted but radiant. “And my ears.”
Sure enough, the twins had inherited her rabbit ears—soft, brown, twitching curiously at the new world around them. But their eyes were pure lion gold, and when the boy looked at his father, something ancient and knowing flickered in his gaze.
“Heir and heiress,” the midwife said. “Blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.”
Kael took the boy, cradling him against his chest with surprising gentleness. “Hello, little prince.”
The baby stopped crying. He stared at his father with those golden eyes, and then—impossibly—he smiled.
“He knows you,” Elowen said.
“He knows me.”
“Of course he does. You’re his father.”
Kael kissed the baby’s forehead, then leaned over to kiss Elowen. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything. For staying in that cabin. For not running away. For loving me when I didn’t deserve to be loved.”
“You deserve everything, Kael.”
“So do you.”
The forbidden garden became the royal nursery.
Not literally—the women Kael had saved still lived there, protected and cherished and finally free. But Elowen brought the twins to play among the flowers every morning, letting them chase butterflies and dig in the dirt and learn that the world wasn’t as cruel as their parents had known.
“Look,” Elowen said one day, pointing at the soul bond thread still wrapped around her wrist. “It’s turned red again.”
Kael looked up from the letter he was reading—some political nonsense about border disputes and trade agreements, nothing important compared to his children. “Red means love.”
“I know what it means. I’m just… surprised. After all this time, I still love you as much as I did in that cabin.”
“More?”
“More.”
He set the letter aside, pulling her onto his lap. Their twins giggled, oblivious, still digging in the dirt.
“I love you more every day,” Kael said. “I didn’t think it was possible. I was wrong.”
“You’re not wrong often.”
“I’m not wrong ever. But especially about this.”
Elowen laughed, resting her head against his shoulder. The garden bloomed around them—flowers she’d planted herself, trees she’d nurtured from seedlings, a sanctuary built from the ashes of her old life.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real,” she said.
“What?”
“All of it. The cabin. The wedding. The babies. You.” She looked up at him, her rabbit ears brushing his chin. “I was supposed to die, Kael. That was the plan. My family sold me to the beasts, and I was supposed to die.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Because of you.”
“Because of us.” He kissed her forehead. “We saved each other.”
The soul bond thread pulsed—warm, golden, alive.
And in the forbidden garden that wasn’t forbidden anymore, a lion prince held his rabbit queen, and their twins played in the flowers, and the world kept turning, indifferent to their happiness.
But they didn’t need the world’s approval.
They had each other.
Beris died in the mines five years later—not from violence, but from disease. Her mother had passed two years before, her heart giving out in exile.
Elowen didn’t attend the funerals.
She didn’t feel anything at all.
“Does that make me a monster?” she asked Kael one night, lying in bed beside him, their twins asleep in the next room.
“It makes you human.”
“Rabbit.”
“You know what I mean.”
She turned to look at him, tracing the lines of his face with her fingers. “I used to think monsters were born, not made. But now I think anyone can become one, if they’re hurt enough. If they’re scared enough.”
“Are you scared?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good.” He pulled her closer, his arms warm around her. “Because I’m not going anywhere, little rabbit. You’re stuck with me.”
“I know.”
“For how long?”
She smiled against his chest. “Forever.”
