Lucian’s fists clenched like they were trying to strangle the air. His gold eyes flicked between River, Vesper, the guards, and Tristan as the situation took a nosedive his training had never prepared him for—mostly because no one writes "your mate will body-block a wedding crasher in a white dress while teary-eyed" in any training.
Why.
The guards kept moving towards Vesper.
But the princess stepped in front of Vesper. To get to Vesper, they would have to touch River, and touching the Crown Princess of Aelindris without authorization was a career decision that required more than a moment’s consideration.
Pink magic snapped around River and Vesper both, instinct overriding thought.
The crowd gasped. Color drained from Tristan’s face.
Lucian’s gold eyes widened. He didn’t feel any hostility through their matebond, just determination.
Her magic had always been considered average. Adequate. The polite description for power that existed but never announced itself, the Fae equivalent of a perfectly fine singing voice that nobody asked to perform solos. What was radiating from her hands right now was several weight classes above adequate and climbing.
Using magic to help a criminal resist arrest was an implied threat that if a guard touched either woman, the magic would retaliate.
The guards paused. Protocol dictated they use their magic against River to neutralize the threat and take both subjects into custody. None of them wanted to be the man who blasted the princess at her own wedding in front of the Crown Prince and King. That particular honor appeared on zero career aspiration lists.
River glanced down at her own glowing hands. Blinked a few times. The blink of a woman who had just accidentally pulled a grenade pin and was now holding the grenade and trying to remember if there was a way to put the pin back.
Her surprise bled through her magic. The guards felt it immediately. The intent wasn’t hostile. Her magic had responded to her emotions the way a dog responds to thunder: loudly, involuntarily, and with zero tactical consideration.
None of them moved. One of their lips twitched, almost in fondness.
But to River, they had stopped because of her magic. So, to the absolute shock of every living person and one ghost in the courtyard, she held it.
Through the matebond, Lucian felt the exact moment her surprise converted to determination. A gear clicking into place. A woman who had accidentally discovered she was holding a weapon deciding to keep holding it because the alternative was letting the weapon go and the weapon was the only thing standing between Vesper and a dungeon that River apparently didn’t want Vesper in.
Tristan dragged a hand down his face.
Fin recognized the gesture. It was the universal expression of a man who loved a woman who was doing something simultaneously adorable and catastrophic and had chosen the worst possible moment for both. Under ANY other circumstances, this would have been entertaining. River’s surprise at her own magic followed by her decision to keep it up had the energy of a kitten that accidentally knocked a vase off a table and then sat on the broken pieces with eye contact.

The transition from holding to moving was so fast Fin almost missed it. One second the wolf king was rooted at the altar, discipline holding every instinct behind a wall. The next second the wall was gone and the wolf king was stepping forward with a fluidity that had nothing to do with ceremony and everything to do with the predator that lived behind his ribs.
VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate