Page 12 of The Moonborn's Curse

She studied him for a long moment, then finally said, "Be careful with strangers."

Something about the way she said it made him pause.

"I had a dream," she added, voice quieter now.

Hagan tensed.

His mother's Sight was never something to ignore.

"I won't go near the borders without permission again," he promised.

She sighed, then pulled him into a brief but firm hug. "Good."

She didn't say anything else, but he knew she was waiting for his father.

The network connection was poor where he had travelled, but he had sent a message earlier in the evening—negotiations were going well. He would be back in two days.

Hagan wasn't sure why, but something about the way his mother lingered at the door that night made his skin prickle.

A tinge along his spine told him something was about to change.

Chapter 6

Seren

Draken stood by the tall, narrow window, arms crossed over his chest, watching as the rain swept over the hills, turning them into mist-laden shadows. The steady patter against the stone walls of the building was softer than the storms of Vargrheim, but it still carried a familiar melancholy.

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since he left his land, his people—his family.

And two days since they had reached this township. The high priest said he had to wait.

A restless ache gnawed at him, something deeper than the call of duty. He had never been a man prone to sentiment, yet distance had sharpened his longing into something he could not ignore.

He missed his people, the familiar weight of command, the feeling of standing amongst his warriors, knowing they were one body, one mind, one purpose. The tribelink was always buzzing.

He missed his eldest son, the boy already growing into his strength, a mirror of Draken in his younger years—bold, sharp-witted, reckless with the confidence of youth. The triplets, still at the age where they worshipped the ground he walked on, their small hands constantly reaching for him, their laughter a sound he had taken for granted. Especially Renna who ruled him and her brothers.

But most of all—he missed his heart.

Astrid.

His chosen mate. The queen of his heart.

Draken exhaled, his breath fogging against the cool glass.

War was a constant in his world. Though the Feral wars that his grandparents had fought had driven the humans back into the cities, there were always squabbles over power or territory. He had fought in battles that turned rivers red, had watched his brothers die in the mud at his feet. He had known loss and hardship, had been forged in blood and fire.

But nothing had ever unmade him like leaving Astrid behind.

She had stood tall as he departed, her face a mask of steel, but he had seen the truth in her eyes. She had never been one to weep, but her fingers had lingered just a little longer against his wrist when they had said goodbye.

Astrid was not just his mate—she was his tether. His voice of reason, his equal in every way. She was the only one who could temper his fire, the only one who knew when to push him, when to hold him back, when to remind him that he was more than just the warrior the world saw.

And gods, he missed her.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

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