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Godric’s expression is hard and unreadable, as if he was giving me an update on the grim state of political affairs from the Elite City.

“King Njord has been ahead of us this whole time,” he finally continues. “You’ve been on his radar for quite some time. He was just looking for something to hook his claws into, and we fucking gave it to him on a silver platter. I’m sorry.”

I stare at the Alpha and try to find some hint that he might be joking. That this is just all some sort of nightmare I haven’t woken up from or that he’s testing to see how strong my heart really is.

Because right now it’s about to beat out of my chest.

“What happens now?” I whisper as Godric continues to wait me out, as though he’s just seeing if I can remain conscious long enough to take in this horrific news.

And… all of that was recorded?

The violation of it has bile rising in my throat. The intimacy of bonding with Ze’ev with the help of Godric and Arwan was private, was for us.

And the king decided it was a damn show for his court.

“We adapt,” he says gruffly. “Nomination Night is in twelve hours. Ze’ev is only imprisoned because he illegally mated you, but the plan is to set him loose on the Deadlands when you join the Monster Games. It’ll be a bloodbath. Every unmated male in a hundred-mile radius will go after him just to get to you. The king has also included me as a sponsor, as well as Arwan, and penalized us with handicaps for our participation in helping you mate Ze’ev. It gives you an unfair edge, according to the king.”

“I thought you couldn’t be a sponsor?” I ask.

“That was before the king put this in me,” he says. My eyes drop to Godric’s chest as he runs his finger over the hard ridge under his skin. “It’s a new pack crest, one that allows me to safely take a mate.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

He grunts as he digs it out. Blood drips down his abdomen, and he cleans it off with a cloth. He hooks the emblem onto a leather strap, then wraps it around his neck. His chest heals a moment later into clean skin with only the slight rim of a new scar. “When you broke the last one, it broke the curse.”

“I don’t understand,” I say as I sway. Godric holds me steady.

“King Njord is not a sane creature. He works on whims, and our attraction to one another amuses him. He will want to see how much blood I’ll spill just to keep you. Not as a concubine, but as a real mate.”

Dizziness swarms over me. It’s what I wanted, but Godric is speaking of it like it’s all a political series of strategic moves.

“Do you want me as a mate?” I whisper.

His jaw flexes. “Only if you want me.”

I don’t answer that implied question. It’s far too complicated.

I frown before I change the subject. “Why would you need to spill any blood?”

He snarls, showing his teeth. “Every sponsor will want the honor of taking out a pack master, a prince, and the Outcast to win you as a mate or maim you just to watch us break. Either scenario will be heavily rewarded by the court. King Njord has turned you into a Gods-damned prize.”

The faint hope that has fluttered inside my chest shifts into panic. Godric can mate me now, but that’s only if he isn’t fatally wounded first. Alternatively, I might wind up mated to someone I don’t know who’ll horribly kill my sponsors, or I’ll be killed alongside them just for sport.

I’m starting to understand why the Monster Games are always so brutal.

King Njord designs them that way.

“What can we do?” I weakly ask.

Godric’s lips press into a thin line before he answers, as if he knows I’m not going to like it. “We prevent it. You won’t be nominated, which will ruin the king’s plans. Everyone will lose interest in Ze’ev, and I’ll have thirty days to get both of you off this isle before this shit show even begins.”

I blink at him a few times. It’s not a bad plan.

But it’s also not a great one.

“I’m not leaving without my sister,” I protest. My fingers are already finding his as I squeeze them. “I’m not leaving you… or Arwan.”

No telling what the king would do to them if he managed to pull that off.