A widower. A runner. An ex sister-in-law who won't let go.

Sequel to Changing Fate: A year has past since the events of the Queen's Coronation. The grief is still palpable, the loss of the Queen leaving everyone reeling. Only, she's not quite as dead as everyone assumes. With the threat of Ivaylo still looming, his secrets still unknown, the Royals need to ban together now more than ever. But that's a hard task to do when Kendall has no recollection of her life, including her memories of Finnian. With his patience in short supply and her fear of the werewolves around her, they will be in for the fight of their lives. After all, fate has a way of throwing curveballs at you when you're already down.

Book 3 in the Changing Fate series. Must be read in order! I thought the worse was done. I thought we were in the clear. But the storm was just getting started. Hopefully the heart of Ivaylo is as strong as they say. Because we better prepare ourselves for a storm straight from hell if it isn't.

Kendall Keating doesn't care much for politics. Which is why she is hesitant to go to Castle Cahill for two months to help her Alpha father secure a position on the Royal Council. She reluctantly agrees, but she gets more than she expected when she meets the King. King Finnian Cahill didn't think much about inviting members of the Keating Pack to be vetted for two months. It was something he did time and time again. The difference this time though is the stubborn little brunette with fire in her big, green eyes. The problem is, Kendall thinks he is playing games with her. He acts the adoring mate one minute and the strict, aloof King the next. She knows he's hiding something and she is determined to find out what it is. No matter the cost.

Love is patient, love is kind but above all, love is hard. "I am here to see the Archangel." "Aren't we all?" Replied the guard after chuckling at the blatant naivety of the frail woman. "Name?" "I'm here to see the Archangel." She replied stubbornly still not looking up from her shoes that peeked out from the bottom of her cloak, revealing more of her toes through their large holes than the muddy, worn leather that formed the patchwork shoe itself. They were her last pair. Not that she had taken many substitutes with her when she had left. A hasty departure was never well planned.