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Summary
“Your health, my son,” The King’s tone shifted, solemn and deliberate. “It has become a matter of grave concern. I believe the time has come for you to be courted and marked, without further delay.”
As an alpha, such bonds were not ordinarily Flins’ burden; yet his case was unlike others. The fae blood that ran within him demanded a bond, a mark to still the madness that slept beneath his ribs. The medicine dulled it, but only a matter of time it would be a bomb for him. At least, that was his father and physician told him all this time.
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Varflins courting.