Crown and Shackles: The Princes Mate (Story Updated)

Broken Treaty

I laughed breathlessly as Logan tugged me out of the castle, our joined hands swinging between us. His little sister giggled as we passed, and his parents offered knowing smiles, clearly amused by our hurried escape. The sun was warm on my face, and for a moment, I felt weightless—just a girl being dragged by her mate toward a carefree run in the woods.

But then I saw them—Henry, Sam, and Troy.

They were just outside the courtyard, half-lost in their own world. Henry and Troy were wrestling, shouting insults and laughing, while Sam sat nearby, chewing nervously on his fingers like he always did when they got too rough. My steps slowed instinctively, a smile spreading across my face.

Logan didn’t stop. He pulled my hand again, eyes fixed on the forest ahead. But I planted my feet, tugging back.

He looked over his shoulder, confused at first—then mildly irritated. Not angry, exactly. Just disappointed. “Ally,” he said, a soft groan in his throat, “we were almost to the trees.”

“I know,” I said with a grin. “But look.”

He followed my gaze and his jaw tightened the second he spotted Troy. The frustration in his expression deepened—not just over the delay, but over him.

I let go of his hand before he could protest and ran across the field toward the boys. They didn’t see me coming. I leapt onto them, tackling Henry and Troy down in a mess of limbs and shouts.

“Hello there, guys,” I laughed, pinning them both.

“God, Ally! You scared us,” Henry wheezed, clutching his chest dramatically.

I grinned at him, then looked to Troy. He was staring up at me, caught completely off guard, and for a second… he didn’t move. His hand brushed my arm, lingering just a beat too long. There was something in his eyes—surprise, sure, but more than that. Something quiet.

Then I felt it.

An arm wrapped around my waist and I was suddenly yanked backward—gently, but firmly.

“MINE,” Logan growled low behind me, voice barely more than a warning rumble.

He pulled me behind him, positioning himself between me and Troy like a wall. His muscles were tight, protective, his stance all alpha. Troy stood slowly, mirroring the posture—not aggressive, but not backing down either. Their eyes locked, and I felt the tension crackle in the air like an incoming storm.

I quickly stepped beside Logan and rose on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s go for our run.”

He didn’t move. Not at first. His body remained in place, coiled with instinct. His gaze flicked to Henry and Sam—both watching quietly. Then back to Troy.

“I trust them,” he muttered. “Henry. Sam. They’re good. Loyal.”

I placed my hand on his chest. “I know.”

“But him…” His voice dropped lower, almost a snarl. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“Troy’s my friend,” I said firmly. “He always has been. I trust him.”

“You trust too easily,” he said, eyes still locked on Troy. “And he wants more than friendship.”

“He’s never crossed that line,” I argued, though the earlier look Troy gave me flickered in my memory like a spark catching dry leaves. “Not once.”

“Not yet,” Logan said, finally turning to face me. “But he’s waiting for something. And if he ever thinks he has a chance—”

“He doesn’t,” I said quickly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I chose you, Logan.”