Chapter 1

Morgana’s POV

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“Ah—ah… yes…” Lady Victoria’s breathless cries seep through the heavy oak doors, thick with lust and indulgence. The sounds of bodies slapping, of pleasure being taken without restraint, echo down the corridor.

I don’t flinch.

I stand where I always do, outside the door, hands folded, staring at it like it has personally offended me as I wait.

Waiting for them to finish so I can clean up the aftermath like I always do.

Because that was my role.

Clean the mess. Stay invisible. Say nothing.

Lady Victoria never did anything halfway.

Not her tantrums. Not her cruelty. And certainly not this.

“Victoria?” The voice of my master, Beta Silas, thunders from the end of the corridor.

I drop to my knees instantly, my forehead nearly touching the cold floor. His footsteps are heavy, vibrating through the wood. He stops right in front of the door, his shadow looming over me.

“Victoria, I told you not to indulge tonight,” Beta Silas’s voice snaps, cold and controlled despite the situation behind the door. “You are to meet the new Alpha. Have you forgotten what this alliance means?”

“Father! Ah! Not now!” Victoria’s voice drifts through the door, followed by a wet slap and a moan. “We just started. I can’t meet him. Tell him to wait. Tell him I’m... indisposed!” she adds, completely unashamed.

I roll my eyes. Of course she can’t.

I wouldn’t either, not after what she has been doing for the past hour.

The ‘noble lady’ of the House of Silas, so pure, so virtuous in public, spread open for guards behind closed doors.

If the kingdom saw her like this… they would choke on their own praise.

“Do you hear me?” Silas’ voice hardens.

My head snaps up, and I realize with a jolt of ice in my veins that he isn't looking at the door anymore.

He is looking at me.

Oh no. Oh no.

Silas is a man of calculation and cruelty. He doesn't repeat himself, and those who fail to anticipate his needs usually find themselves in the dungeon or at the end of a blade.

“Yes, Master,” I say, even when I have no idea what I’m agreeing to. Because that’s exactly how people like me survive.

“No, Father!” Victoria shrieks. “You can't let her meet the Alpha. This isn’t some banquet or game. That servant reeks of the slums. She’ll ruin everything if she pretends to be me this time! Ah, yes!… There, faster…!”

My thoughts freeze. Pretend again?

Wait. No. No, she didn’t mean… The realization hits me like a physical blow. Silas wants me to stand in for her.

I know. I've done it countless times, maintaining her noble and virtuous appearance at the banquet, at the games, when she's too 'busy.'

But Beta Silas wants me, a servant girl, to play the part of a high-born lady before the most dangerous man in the realm.

No… I can’t do this. This isn’t a crowd.

This is the Alpha.

I’ve survived this game before. Smiled. Bowed. Lied. But this time… I might not survive the ending.

Oh, goddess, have mercy on me.

“She will go,” Silas says. The words are a death sentence, delivered with the casualness of ordering tea.

A cold wave crashes through my chest.

Meet the Alpha.

The ruthless one. The one they whisper about in hushed voices for being unpredictable and merciless. A man who could decide your fate based on a glance… or a mood.

Prince Kieran.

The Alpha who returned from the human realm after fifteen years of exile.

The man who ended the Great War with a trail of bodies in his wake. They say his heart is made of the same silver that killed his father.

And I… I just agreed to lie in front of him without knowing. A bitter laugh almost escapes me. Not that I would have been given a choice to refuse.

Two senior maids appear from the shadows, bowing low.

“Clean her thoroughly,” Silas orders. “Scrub the dirt from her skin. Manicure her nails. Strip her of every trace of where she came from, and dress her in Victoria’s finest silk and her finest mask. She will meet the Alpha this time. If she speaks out of turn… or makes a single mistake, she dies. And so do you.”

“Yes, Beta Silas.”

Before I can even process it, hands seize my arms, dragging me toward the royal bathing chambers this time.

I don't struggle. To struggle is to invite a beating I can't afford.

Steam curls thick in the bathing chamber, perfumed water shimmering under dim light.

They strip me of my rags without ceremony and usher me into a pool. I sink into it slowly, my body betraying me as tension melts from muscles that have known nothing but labor and punishment.

For a moment, just a moment, I close my eyes.

This… This is how they live: clean water, gentle hands, and care, not survival, not scraps, not pain.

My fingers curl beneath the surface.

Fifteen years of scrubbing floors, washing stains, and carrying burdens that were never mine. Fifteen years of punishment for mistakes I didn’t make.

Locked in darkness. Starved. Forgotten. Except when they needed me. Needed me to erase evidence. To play pretend. To clean secrets. To make sins disappear without a trace.

My chest tightens.

For fifteen years, I have been the invisible ghost of this house. I was six when the spirit creatures slaughtered my pack and parents during the Silver Moon.

The Silver Moon—a rare, cursed night in Valtheris when the barrier between worlds breaks, and monsters return.

The night everything was taken from me, when monsters walked freely, and no one came to save us.

Silas found me wandering the forest the night of the silver moon fifteen years ago and brought me here, not out of mercy, but for utility.

As the maids work, scrubbing my skin, a dangerous thought takes root.

I have spent my life in the dirt and the kitchens. I have been starved in the dungeons for the smallest mistakes. Now that I'm being sent to meet the ruler of Valtheris…

What if… What if I seize the moment? What if I told him?

The Alpha.

What if I walked into that room and exposed Lady Victoria? Her filth. Her lies. Would he reward me?

My freedom? Wealth? A name?

The thought burns. Bright and tempting. But dies just as quickly.

Because that will be foolish.

Men like the Alpha won’t reward people like me.

And Silas? He wouldn’t just kill me; he would make sure I suffered first.

I swallow hard. This isn’t an opportunity; it’s a test, or worse, a sacrifice.

They pull me from the water, drying me with care that feels foreign against my skin, and wrap me in a robe before leading me to Lady Victoria's dressing chamber.

Sitting in front of the vanity, they brush my hair and do my nails.

Perfumed oils rub into places no one has ever treated with kindness. They lace me into a corset so tight I can barely breathe.

Then comes the dress. Royal blue. Heavy. Elegant.

They lace it tight, molding me into a shape I barely recognize. I catch my reflection in the mirror; I see the girl beneath the dirt.

Under the grime, I have the same hair as Victoria, the same height, the same eye color, only our faces betray the lie.

A delicate, jeweled mask is placed over my eyes, gold and intricate. Beautiful.

A lie.

“The Alpha is waiting in the royal gardens,” one of the maids whispers, her voice trembling. “He is already displeased. Do not make him wait a second longer.”

I nod.

They lead me down the hall toward the heavy double doors. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird.

I am no longer Morgana the servant. I am a sacrificial lamb. And I am being sent straight into the den of a monster.

Because deep down… I know this isn’t just dangerous. This is the kind of night that changes everything. Or ends it.

If I fail… I die.

If I succeed… I still might.

The doors swing open, and cold night air brushes against my skin, sharp and unforgiving.

There is no turning back now.

I step forward. Into a lie that could get me killed.