The Warning

Serafine stared at the note in her trembling hand.

He will kill you soon.

The words looked scratched in a hurry, like someone had written it fast and shoved it under the door while Lucian slept. She folded the paper tight and hid it inside her torn gray dress. Her shoulder and thigh burned with every move, but she forced herself to stay quiet.

Lucian still slept in the heavy chair beside the bed, sword across his knees. Even resting, he looked dangerous. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. The cuts on his ribs had already started healing faster than normal—thanks to her silver light, she guessed.

She crept toward the window. The stone floor felt ice-cold under her bare feet. Outside, the mountains stood black against the early morning sky. Guards moved along the walls. Too many guards.

The door handle clicked.

Serafine spun around.

Lucian’s eyes were open now. Wide awake. Watching her.

“Trying to run already?” he asked. His voice was low and rough from sleep.

“I was looking at the mountains,” she lied.

He stood up slowly, towering over her. He touched the bandage on her shoulder, checking it. His fingers were surprisingly gentle for a man who had torn out a wolf’s throat hours earlier.

“You fought well last night,” he said. “Most girls would’ve cried in a corner. You picked up a sword.”

Serafine met his eyes. “I didn’t want to die.”

Lucian’s mouth curved into that dark smile. He stepped closer until her back pressed against the cold wall. “Good. I don’t want you dead either.” His hand slid down to her waist and pulled her against him. “That power of yours… it quiets the monster in my head. Makes me feel like myself again. You’re staying right here where I can keep you safe.”

Before she could answer, he kissed her again. Harder this time. Like he was proving a point. Serafine’s hands pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge. Heat flooded through her body—anger, fear, and something else she didn’t want to name.

A loud knock saved her.

Lord Vincent entered with two guards. “My king, the scouts have returned. Blood Moon forces are gathering two valleys over. They’re serious about taking the girl.”

Lucian’s body went tight. He kept one arm around Serafine as he turned. “Let them come. We’ll be ready.”

Vincent’s eyes flicked to her for a second too long. “Perhaps the girl should stay locked in the tower for safety. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to your… cure.”

The way he said “cure” made Serafine’s skin crawl. She remembered the note burning against her skin.

Lucian shook his head. “She stays with me. Get the men ready. I want double patrols.”

As soon as Vincent left, Lucian dressed quickly in fresh armor. He tossed a clean cloak at Serafine. “Put that on. You’re coming with me.”

They walked the outer walls together. Cold wind whipped at her face. Lucian pointed out weak spots in the defense and barked orders at soldiers. Serafine stayed silent, but her eyes moved everywhere—counting weapons, watching how the guards looked at Vincent when he passed.

Mid-morning, Lucian took her to the training yard.

“Show me what you can do,” he said, handing her a practice sword.

Serafine gripped the hilt. Her wounds pulled tight, but she lifted the blade anyway. Lucian attacked slowly at first. She blocked, stepped sideways, and tried to strike back. He knocked the sword from her hand in two moves.

“Again.”

They went over and over. Each time she lasted a little longer. Every time their blades touched, faint silver sparks danced along her sword. Lucian moved easier when the light touched him. His left arm stopped twitching completely.

By the fifth round, sweat poured down her back. Her thigh wound reopened and blood soaked through the bandage. Still she kept swinging.

Lucian finally lowered his blade. His eyes burned as he looked at her. “You’re not weak,” he said quietly. “You’re dangerous.”

A shout came from the gate.

“Enemy scouts spotted!”

Lucian cursed and grabbed her hand. They ran toward the armory tower. Halfway there, an arrow whistled past Serafine’s head and buried itself in a wooden post. She dropped low. Lucian shoved her behind a barrel and drew his sword.

“Stay down!”

More arrows rained down. One grazed Lucian’s arm. He roared in anger and charged toward the tree line where the scouts hid. Serafine crawled to a nearby weapons rack and grabbed a bow. She had never shot one before, but she nocked an arrow anyway.

She pulled the string back, aimed, and let go.

The arrow flew crooked but hit a scout in the shoulder. He screamed and fell. Silver light glowed around the wound. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his head.

Lucian finished the rest.

When he came back, breathing hard, he looked at the bow in her hands, then at the fallen scout. Something shifted in his face—pride mixed with hunger.

“You keep surprising me,” he said.

He pulled her close again, right there in the open yard, and kissed her deeply. This time she kissed him back for a second before she caught herself. When he pulled away, his eyes were dark.

That night they ate in his chambers. Lucian made her sit right beside him. He cut meat for her plate himself. Every time she moved, his hand found her—on her knee, her back, her wrist. Like he couldn’t stop touching her.

Serafine waited until he fell asleep hours later.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. Her body ached everywhere. She found the note again and read it in the moonlight.

He will kill you soon.

She needed to find who wrote it.

Quietly, she pulled on the cloak and crept into the hallway. The castle was mostly dark. She moved like she had in the cellars—silent, careful. Down one corridor, then another.

A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into a dark alcove.

It was the old High Priestess.

“You shouldn’t be out here, child,” the old woman whispered. Her eyes looked scared. “Vincent is moving faster than I thought. He wants Lucian’s throne. Your power is the only thing keeping the king stable. If Vincent kills you, Lucian goes mad and he takes over.”

Serafine’s heart pounded. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because the Moonveil blood is sacred. And because Lucian is not the only monster here.” The priestess pressed a small metal key into her hand. “This opens the side gate. But you must be careful. The king’s obsession… it grows every time your power touches him.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall.

The priestess vanished into the shadows.

Serafine hurried back toward the chambers, key hidden in her fist. She slipped inside just as Lucian started stirring.

He sat up suddenly, eyes sharp. “Where were you?”

“Needed water,” she lied, holding up a cup from the table.

Lucian stared at her for a long moment. Then he reached out and pulled her back into bed, wrapping his arms around her tight. Too tight.

“You smell like night air,” he whispered against her neck. “Don’t make me chain you to the bed, little wolf. I would hate to hurt you… but I will if you try to leave me.”

Serafine lay stiff in his arms, the small key digging into her palm.

Outside, the wolves howled again.

And somewhere in the castle, Lord Vincent was planning his next move.