ZARIA'S POV 
The next morning, the sun barely broke through the heavy gray clouds, but I was already out on the training field. My hands were wrapped tight in canvas bandages to hide the raw blisters from the night before, and every single muscle in my body ached. I swung a wooden practice sword at a dummy, my movements slow, heavy, and completely exhausted.
My head was muddled and I needed to clear it all out. All of what was happening was too much to handle. 
"Your stance is too wide," a deep voice called out.
I turned around, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. Cassian was walking across the packed snow toward me, wearing just a simple black tunic without his usual heavy Alpha furs. He held two light wooden sparring blades in his hands.
"You're fighting like a werewolf, Zaria," he said, stepping onto the field. "You're trying to match brute strength against a wooden post. You'll lose every time if you play by our rules."
"I just need to be faster," I muttered, lifting the heavy blade again.
Cassian didn't argue. Instead, he tossed one of the lighter wooden swords to me. I caught it, surprised by how balanced and light it felt in my hands. I looked at him with questioning eyes and returned the gaze to the sword in my hand. 
"Show me," he said, bringing his own blade up.
I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward, swinging straight for his shoulder. Cassian didn't even blink. He didn't bother blocking the blow; he simply stepped to the side, letting my own momentum carry me right past him. Before I could even try to recover, the flat of his blade tapped me lightly on the lower back, sending me stumbling into the snow.
"Werewolves rely on instinct and overwhelming force," Cassian explained, looking down at me as I pushed myself up. "When we charge, we commit fully. That means we have a blind spot the second we miss. Your lack of a wolf isn't just a weakness—it's an advantage if you know how to use it. You're smaller, lower to the ground, and you can move before we even realize you've shifted your weight."
He extended a hand to help me up. When my bandaged fingers met his palm, a sudden, warm jolt traveled straight up my arm. I pulled myself to my feet, but he didn't immediately let go. His thumb brushed over the edge of the wrap, his gaze dropping to the dark blood seeping through the cloth.
"Does it hurt?" he asked softly, his voice dropping low.
"No," I lied, looking up into his dark eyes. Standing this close to him was dizzying. The heat radiating off his body was a sharp contrast to the biting morning air.
I was trying hard to not wince in pain. I could feel the blood seeping into the bandage and soaking it up.
He let go slowly, stepping back into a defensive stance.
"Again."
For the next two hours, Cassian took over my training completely. It was brutal, exhausting, and intensely close. He taught me how to read the slight twitch of a werewolf’s shoulder before a strike, how to drop low beneath their line of sight, and how to redirect their mass against them. Every time I slipped up, he was right there—his chest pressing against my back to adjust my posture, his hands locking around my wrists to guide the arc of my blade. The air between us felt thick, charged with a heavy friction that had nothing to do with the winter cold.
During a rare break, we stood near the weapon rack, both of us catching our breath.
"You're pushing yourself to the point of breaking," Cassian said, watching the furious rise and fall of my chest. "This isn't just about protecting Maya anymore, is it?"
I leaned against the stone wall, my fingers tightening around the hilt of the practice sword.
"Maya told me everything, Cassian. Garrick wasn't blackmailed by Cynthia. He wasn't just a bystander." I looked up, the cold fury returning to my chest. "He helped her plan the poisoning. He sold me out because he thought a human Luna made him look weak. He wanted Cynthia’s power more than he wanted me. They have been doing it for a long while.“
“Didn't you know that already?“
“I was living in a state of denial.“
Cassian’s expression hardened, his eyes darkening as he took in my words.
"I don't just want Cynthia gone," I said, my voice dropping to a fierce, lethal whisper. "I want them both destroyed. I want Garrick to watch everything he built burn to the ground, and I want him to know I’m the one holding the match."
A slow, dark smile spread across Cassian’s face. He stepped closer, crowding me against the wall, his eyes fixed on mine with a raw, intense heat. He looked at me not with pity, but with a deep, dangerous fascination. He liked the fire in me. He wanted it.
"Then we'll burn it together," he murmured, his voice laced with a dark promise.
AUTHOR'S POV
High above the courtyard, standing on the frosted stone balcony of the main keep, Helen watched the two of them. She wrapped her thick woolen shawl tightly around her shoulders, her face drawn into a deeply troubled frown.
From her vantage point, the intense chemistry between the Alpha King and the human girl was glaringly obvious. She watched how close Cassian stood to Zaria, how his focus never wavered from her, completely oblivious to the guards watching from the gates. He was leaning in too close, lingering too long, letting his guard down in a way he never had before.
Helen let out a sharp, anxious breath, her grip tightening on the stone railing.
"You're losing sight of the game, Cassian," she muttered to herself, her voice carrying on the wind. She shook her head, looking away from the training field with a heavy heart. "You're letting your growing attachment to her distract you from the reason we brought her here in the first place."