The Wolf King's Bride

By C.A. Worley

When Kellan, Wolf King of the North, meets his fated mate, she is only a child. He immediately brokers a betrothal and, on the day after her 20th birthday, whisks her away to his castle in the Northland. Kellan is elated, believing he has everything he has ever wanted. His new wife, Nora, doesn’t quite share the same sentiment.

Before Kellan has time to court her, Nora is attacked. An ancient brotherhood refuses to allow an heir of one kingdom onto the throne of another. All four factions in the land of Imperium appear to be involved in a surreptitious struggle for power ... while Nora hides a few secrets of her own.

*The Wolf King's Bride is the first book of the Fate of Imperium Series. Each book is the story of a different king and his fated mate. While the three books do not have to be read in order, it is highly recommended.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.A. Worley
• Release date: Sep 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463151723

C.A. Worley

C.A. Worley loves to write fantasy/paranormal, as well as humor. She writes under two different pen names so as to not confuse (or tick off) her readers.C.A. currently resides in the Midwest, but was born and raised in the South. She spends her days working from home and her evenings are spent shuttling her kids to and fro. Her dinners are subpar, but she makes a mean dessert.When she's tired of living her sons' travel sports schedules, C.A. enjoys a glass (or four) of wine. She needs the liquid courage to click the publish button for her fantasy romance novels.Her motto is, "Be Brave," and she tries to live it every day. It takes a healthy dose courage to get through this thing we call life.

Book preview

Prologue

Westland, Kingdom of Gwydion

Elora giggled as she skipped through the field, her ribbon clutched tight in her small hand. The shiny, gossamer fabric trailed behind her, swaying easily in the summer breeze.

The sun was setting, but still warm on her back. She relished the soothing feel of it as the other children’s laughs tickled her ears. Moments like this were her favorite.

Moments like this were rare.

Being the daughter of Willem, King of Gwydion, did not produce many opportunities for friendship. It was a lonely station to hold in life; but the gatherings in the Great Hall afforded her the luxury of companionship, even if only temporarily.

Elora knew, all too well, most of the children dancing around the field were only being kind because it was expected. At the age of seven, she was by far the youngest of the group, but certainly the most powerful, as each child was well-aware.

The children knew because anyone in her presence was on guard, wary of what coursed through her veins. Elora put out so much energy, she was given wide berth, even in this field while playing—especially, in this field while playing, with few adults near.

Ever her father’s daughter, she tucked away all the instants of silent ridicule, those moments of being ignored, and buried them deep, choosing to overlook them.

Failing at it, but trying, nonetheless.

She felt as though she was playing beside the children, as opposed to with them. At the first hint of uncertainty regarding her presence, she simply picked up her ribbon and bounced away, hoping the others would join. Today, she was thankful she wasn’t alone in her play and would do nothing to scare them off.

There were others her age who lived near, but they tended to keep their distance. They feared Elora. She wasn’t sure if it was because their parents had warned them off or if they could sense she was different. Either way, it encouraged a sadness to grow within her.

Elora was smart enough to know she wasn’t what others of her kind considered normal. Her father assured her it was of no importance—she had much more significant matters with which to concern herself. Namely, she and her powers would grow and, someday, she would sit on his throne.

Elora wasn’t convinced this was a good thing. She didn’t want to sit on a throne. Queen was her mother’s title and Elora had no interest in taking anything more away from the deceased woman. It seemed a callous thing to even consider, which only furthered the sadness inside her.

Nevermind the fact Queens didn’t last long in Imperium. No, that little nugget of information would destroy Elora if she focused on it for too long.

Gwydions did not typically cope well with sorrow. Elora’s father often preached to her that life was too short to dwell on such things and she was far too young to be such a pessimist.

He taught her that contentment was a choice, that she needed to choose to be happy and appreciate all with which she had been blessed. This was the way of life in the Westlands, the area of the Imperium continent under King Willem’s rule.

Gwydions were a peaceful people, full of love and life. They had a connection to the world around them, in a way the other beings did not.

Legend held that the people of Gwydion were born of the trees, and each of their lives was bound to the elements of the world. Elora’s knowledge of her ancestors was vague, at best, but she learned not to question her heritage or how she was unlucky enough to come into such power. It just was.

Some foreigners called them witches, but the people of Gwydion called themselves elementals. Most could effortlessly control one primary element and had some level of influence over another.

Every few generations, a gifted elemental was born with the ability to fully command three or four. Elora could easily control them all.

Every. Single. One.

It was not only unheard of, it was, by all scholarly knowledge and standards, impossible. And, thus, King Willem ensured very few knew the extent of his daughter’s powers.

He feared some would attempt to exploit Elora’s magics, while others would choose to remove the perceived threat. She was only a child, but someday would be Queen.

An overtly powerful elemental on the throne could make some of the other factions nervous. It had happened in the past, more than once.

Elora also had another power, one her father forced her to keep completely hidden at all costs. Elora did her best to conceal it, but sometimes it simply could not be controlled.

During those times, her father would carry her off to her quarters and her governess, Mara, was the only one allowed to tend to her. There were no other family members alive to help her navigate this scary world.

Elora was her father’s only child. Her mother died in childbirth and now that Elora was seven, Willem was considering remarrying. It was one of the reasons he decided to hold this gathering today. He was hoping to find a potential bride.

People arrived from all over the kingdom, some as far as the coast. There had even been a few Burghards on the grounds this morning. Elora was disappointed they kept their human form. She’d never seen one of the Northland Wolves in their other skin, but heard it was a sight to behold.

After morning meal, Elora had watched from her window as groups ventured into the hall, dressed in various finery. She’d wondered if any of the pretty women would catch her father’s eye.

Elora prayed to the Goddess of Sanctus Femina to send her a mother. Mara was lovely, but she was young and often acted as more of a playmate than a governess.

Sometimes, she thought Mara was too invasive, wanting to know the extent of Elora’s powers. In their culture, it was considered rude to ask another Gwydion to demonstrate his or her strength.

Elora overlooked the indiscretion because Mara was almost family to her. Though, on some level, she knew Mara was wrong to ask.

She also didn’t appreciate how often Mara batted her eyes at her father. Instinct told Elora it was beyond improper.

Elora’s only friend was Edward, the twelve-year-old son of her father’s most trusted advisor. She was thankful that Flynn, Edward’s father, had never attempted to sway Edward’s affections away from Elora.

She saw Edward as an older brother, and he thought himself her protector. He was the only child who had ever sought her out to play, who never treated her as someone to be feared. Elora cherished Edward.

He sometimes taunted her that no other elemental could handle her impish behavior and she’d never find a husband. Elora never corrected him despite knowing otherwise. His tone was always light, and she never felt affronted. Not from Edward.

His voice rolled across the field, laughing and teasing one of the other children. Her gut tightened knowing he was giving someone else his mischievous attentions.

Elora was tempted to drift towards them, but she stayed the course she was on, twirling the pretty ribbon in the air. No matter his actions, it would not change what she knew to be true of his future. Of their future.

As Elora edged closer to the point where the field gave way to the woods, she began to feel a hint of something stirring, much like the charge in the air before a storm. Only, this feeling wasn’t coming from the air. It was coming from inside her body.

She immediately stopped so she could assess her person. Sometimes, when the elements called, an energy would move through her, begging to be connected to something, such as the wind or the earth.

It would push and pulse under her skin until she released it. Any time she attempted to hold it in, she paid for it dearly, as did anyone in close proximity.

Magic that should not be contained—that grew enough to demand its freedom—was dangerous.

Elora’s father told her it was perfectly normal to have these moments, especially as a child still learning to control her emotions. Most children went through periodic bouts of excessive energies.

He had warned her, during times of strife or emotional upheaval—such as experiencing jealousy for the first time—the feelings could become overwhelming.

The elements of the world would act as a lightning rod. They would attract her extra energies and Elora should allow them to siphon anything she could not contain. She’d mastered this skill early in life after several harsh lessons from her father.

Unfortunately, this feeling was different. It wasn’t a build-up of excessive magic. It was something not even her father, the wisest man in Gwydion, understood.

Elora had no other word for it other than calling it a wave, like something that was building, climbing towards a crescendo, and would eventually crash through her mind.

She envisioned it much like the waves she had seen on the beaches of Gwydion, quietly building up force before slamming into the dark rocks. Mesmerizing, yet perilous. No elemental would survive the force.

Elora had always believed she’d eventually be unable to survive the waves within her small body. Each time they hit, they came with more and more vigor, growing in power just as her body did. She knew she would have no control over what happened once it hit.

Elora would be helpless, much like being stuck in a riptide, dragging her out to sea before spitting her back out onto the shore.

She needed to get to her father.

Elora sprinted as fast as she could back towards the hall, desperation clawing at her to get to refuge. Edward noticed her movements and gave chase. Elora could hear him calling, but she would not stop.

She flew through the tall goldenrods, parting them with short bursts of air and allowing them to close behind her. She hoped it would give her the extra steps she needed to outrun Edward. Falling prey to the wave out here in front of the children would be disastrous.

The Great Hall’s huge doors were in sight and she focused on them, pushing a strong gust of wind to blow them open. Her father would not be pleased with her use of magics in such an abrupt manner, but she could not chance any impediment.

Her sole purpose was to reach his arms, the one place she was always safe.

The wave was upon her, pushing up through her legs towards her lower back, and climbing. Once it crashed through her mental shields, she would be lost to it. She did not know how to control this power, the one her father forbade her to practice.

Elora couldn’t help but think if her father had allowed her to seek the wave, to hone it, maybe she could manipulate it, direct it. But he’d been very clear that knowing the future could be a curse, especially to a child.

Her breath was short as she pumped her legs. The wave was consuming her chest and creeping into her neck. She only had seconds.

Edward was now at her back and his fingers brushed her dress, trying to grab at the fabric. She knew better than to allow him to slow her. Elora called her magic and pushed air towards Edward’s approaching body to slow his advance.

She shot through the doorway, like a round exploding from a cannon. The harsh sound of the heavy wood echoed through the room. The harpist’s fingers faltered, and the people inside flinched as the notes screeched against their ears.

Elora’s eyes searched frantically for her father in the dim light of the dining hall. Her entrance was so loud she immediately seized his attention.

When their eyes met, Willem rose out of his seat and called her name. His deep voice clipped, evidence of his concern.

It was too late. The wave was here.

Elora knew her father would not want others to witness her episode, but there was nothing to be done now. The thought vanished almost as fast as it came.

She lost herself to the upsurge of energy crashing against the weak shield she’d built as protection. It punched through like a stone moving through wet paper.

Edward entered the hall and gaped at the sight before him.

Elora’s body seized, rigid, in an arched pose. Her head flew backwards, towards her spine, painfully so, while her eyes snapped to the ceiling.

Elora’s arms hung uselessly out to her sides and her toes skimmed the floor. She was hovering. The air was holding her up. Edward could sense it. He’d never seen anything like it.

The second he had noticed Elora take off through the field he knew something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t a child’s spirited bounce he saw. Elora was running for her life.

Edward was afraid to touch her but stood close in case she fell. The hall was silent, all attention on the small light-haired girl. Her father began walking purposefully towards her.

That’s when she spoke. But it wasn’t Elora’s sweet voice that came from her mouth. It was something deep and dark. Something … other.

Willem froze.

"Three days and this house shall fall. One menace to kill them all. Northland, Eastland, and Southland quest. Heed the threat from the West."

Edward furrowed his brow and concentrated on the last of her words, for they did not make sense. Gwydion was the only land in the western part of Imperium. It wouldn’t be a threat to itself.

The entire continent was surrounded by an impenetrable mist. Only those who were other could move in and out of it. The rest of the world knew nothing of Imperium.

Beyond the mist was ocean, inasmuch as he knew, for thousands of miles. What possible threat could come from the ocean? Unless, the humans had somehow found out about their existence?

Edward felt the air shift and release its hold on Elora. He caught her easily as she collapsed, and he held her small body to his as tight as he could, fearful she might float away.

When Edward looked up at Willem, he saw pure terror in his eyes.

Three days later, the King was dead.

Chapter 1

Thirty years later …

Kellan made his way through the crowded market, easily shouldering past the witches. They seemed to sense and respect his brute strength, scurrying out of his way and rarely making eye contact. It was as if they suspected the spirit of a predator resided in his soul.

They were right.

Kellan preferred not to deal with any of them anyway, so he made no effort to hide his natural aggression as he would normally. He’d rather not be here in the first place, so the scampering aside to avoid his path suited him just fine.

Many here thought him an arrogant ass and he lacked motivation to prove otherwise.

The market’s scents filled his nostrils. Spices and meats were the most prevalent. He also caught whiffs of oils and medicines. Some were pleasant, some were repulsive. Some, he knew, were miracles.

If his people could create such magics, his kingdom might be experiencing far better circumstances.

He opened his senses, taking in all he could. Searching and not finding what he sought. He did it again to be sure. Interesting.

Kellan frowned, looking around at the witches selling their wares. There was one noticeable scent absent in this Westland market’s fragrance today. He wondered if his companion had noticed.

He knew he should start referring to them as elementals. He had heard the Gwydions took offense to the word ‘witch,’ and Kellan did not want to accidentally initiate this specific offense on his trip. He might be egotistical, but he wasn’t inclined to hurt a young lady’s feelings with his words.

Many of the market’s odors had changed, become more subdued, since the last time he’d visited. Granted, that was 18 years ago. Perhaps they could shield scents now? Contain their magic? He would have to remember to report this to the Council.

Kellan briefly pondered what the girl would smell like. Scent was everything to his people, and rarely steered them wrong.

The Burghards used scent for most things, from finding food, to predicting rain. Scent also helped them decipher emotions. Lies had an especially foul odor.

He supposed it did not truly matter what the perfume of her essence would tell him. Their fate had been sealed years ago. Kellan was no victim in this pact. He was sure he would need to remind himself of this later.

Foley, his second in command, tried to get Kellan to take in his surroundings, to learn and be knowledgeable about the kingdom for the sake of the girl. But Kellan had no time for sightseeing. He did not intend to be in Gwydion for long.

His eyes darted to the side as his companion gestured for the third or fourth time to a display of fancy merchandise in a store window.

Perhaps you should try one of the merchant’s shops? She may appreciate a token from her betrothed, Foley suggested.

Kellan grunted. He would do no such thing. The only reason he was here was because King Edward had requested a first meeting for the engaged pair.

Though the wedding was still two years away, Edward was not inclined to have his oldest daughter feel she was being married off to a stranger. To ease her transition into her new life, Edward set up a series of visits in hopes the couple would get to know one another.

Kellan begrudgingly agreed to these terms. He knew it was reasonable from the Gwydion’s perspective. They didn’t have mates and courtship was an expectation.

Unfortunately, Kellan was not interested in courting the Princess. He did not want to be reminded of the impending nuptials or to pretend this was going to be a joyous occasion. This betrothal was a business transaction, one made for the mutual benefit of both parties.

Though, Kellan supposed his side of the contract was signed out of desperation rather than any true personal benefit. Nothing else would make him abandon hope of finding the woman destiny chose for only him.

He was a son of Burghard and courtship was a foreign concept, one he found tedious and unnecessary. He accepted the fact the girl was a stranger. He could spend time endearing himself once they were married.

Kellan assumed, after the ceremony, they would return to his home and she would eventually find a way to fit into his life. He would guide her and grow to appreciate her efforts. He was sure he was capable of caring for her, especially if her character was similar to either of her parents.

It was the best he could hope for—a caring and respectful marriage, devoid of the natural connection he would have had with his true mate. Kellan felt a twinge in his chest as he considered his path, making a life with someone his wolf had not chosen.

Kellan fully accepted this responsibility, years ago, shortly after the girl’s birth. He had forsaken any chance at finding his mate for this political alliance.

As King, it was the right thing to do. As man, especially one born with the heart of a wolf, a piece of him would wither and die.

But Kellan would do the honorable thing. He would do his best to do right by her and pray his one true mate never crossed his path. At least not until he could imprint, binding himself to the girl forever.

Although, by that time, she would no longer be just a girl. He should probably start thinking of her as an adult. Girl invoked images of the infant he’d seen when he’d first visited Edward to discuss the matter.

It wouldn’t do well to continue to think of her in such a light. Kellan needed to picture her as a woman, one old enough to stand beside him at the altar.

For the Burghards, a marriage ceremony was nothing. It was a blood-mating that would bind two souls together, whether it be as true mates or as two who have imprinted upon one another. Regrettably, imprinting took time, especially when the pair were not a love match.

Kellan’s mind was bothered, fearing there was a chance they would not be compatible. Imprinting would be nearly impossible if they did not like one another. Finding one’s mate was the ultimate gift in life, but there would be no true mating for him.

Kellan tensed at the thought, caught between the need to rage against his responsibilities and the need to embrace his role as the King. He wished his father were alive to help guide him.

Another pang hit his chest. Would he always feel so alone? Wolves did not fare well when they felt isolated, physically or emotionally.

He knew his life was no longer his own. He now had compulsory duties to fulfill for the good of his people. Kellan was not just an alpha—he was the Alpha, the leader, the King. There was no choice to be made. Duty trumped want. Always.

They reached the edge of the town and continued down the path towards the home of his betrothed. The building could easily be seen from the cobblestone street. It stood just beyond a small golden field.

Kellan had been expecting a palace the first time he came here, but this was more of an extremely large cottage. Far grander than the other homes, of course, but small by royalty standards.

There was a castle near the coast, but Edward and his wife, Elora, had chosen to live here, closer to the larger villages and towns. They refused to rule Gwydion from afar.

King Willem had been of the same mindset, wanting to remain amongst most of his subjects. This home was also closer to the borders of the other three kingdoms, which lessened the logistical burden of diplomacy.

The structure was a simple design and reminded Kellan of a large gravestone because it was built of the same stone the Burghards used as grave markers.

It was much darker than most of the other stone buildings in the

Reviews for The Wolf King's Bride

[Eva chang · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

It was too one sided I'm sick of the ML doing everything for the FL and the ML just assumes to be thr know it all without sharing the information.

[Jamie Lee Van Winkle · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Enjoyed this book so much! I highly recommend this book!

[Lori Wade · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved the book it's self and it held my attention. Most definitely love the characters. There is a lot of typographical errors. I found myself replacing words that should of been used. On to the next book though I've got to find out what happens. ?