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                                                                           Arianthe

The ballroom was a glittering dreamscape of crystal chandeliers, golden candelabras, and polished marble. From where I stood along the edge of the dance floor, it seemed like another world, one where I might actually belong.

For once, eyes weren't sliding past me as if I were invisible. Instead, curious glances and whispered conversations followed in my wake. Not because I was Princess Arianthe the Wolfless, but because Prince Thorne Silvercliff had shown interest in me.

Me. The forgotten princess. The broken one.

I smoothed down the silver silk of my gown, trying to calm my racing heart. Prince Thorne's words at dinner had awakened something dangerous inside me: hope. And hope was the cruelest emotion of all when you'd spent a lifetime learning to live without it.

"Your wolf recognizes mine."

How desperately I wanted to believe him. But twenty-two years of silence from my wolf had taught me better. Whatever Prince Thorne thought he sensed in me, it couldn't be the truth. Perhaps it was pity. Or worse, some elaborate game to humiliate me further.

"You look lost in thought, little sister."

Cassandra appeared beside me, her azure blue gown making her eyes seem even icier. She handed me a crystal flute of champagne with a smile that didn't reach those cold eyes.

"Thank you," I said cautiously, taking the glass but not drinking. My sisters' sudden kindnesses were always traps in disguise.

"You've caused quite a stir tonight," she continued, her voice silky. "Prince Thorne seems... intrigued by you."

I sipped the champagne to avoid answering, the bubbles sharp on my tongue.

"Though we can't imagine why," added Elysia, materializing with her twin Daphne on my other side. "Perhaps he has exotic tastes. Or enjoys collecting broken things."

"Or maybe he's just being diplomatic," said Daphne with a smirk. "Making sure the poor wolfless princess doesn't feel left out."

I kept my face carefully neutral. "Prince Thorne has been kind, that's all."

"Kind," Isolde's voice sliced through our circle as she joined us, resplendent in her crimson gown. "Is that what you think it is? Kindness?"

Something in her tone made me uneasy. Isolde never spoke to me directly at public events unless absolutely necessary.

"He asked me to save him a dance," I admitted, instantly regretting my honesty when I saw the flash of rage in Isolde's eyes.

"Did he?" Her smile was terrifying in its sweetness. "How... thoughtful of him. But the first dance belongs to me and Prince Thorne. Father has already arranged it."

Of course, he had. What had I been thinking? That Prince Thorne would actually open the royal ball with me instead of the crown princess?

"I understand," I said quietly.

"Do you?" Isolde stepped closer, her voice dropping so only we sisters could hear. "Because I don't think you do. Prince Thorne Silvercliff is here to form an alliance with our kingdom through marriage to me. Whatever attention he's showing you is nothing but a diplomatic courtesy. You are nothing but a courtesy."

The words cut deep, despite years of practice at withstanding her cruelty.

"He'll dance with you because he feels sorry for you," Cassandra added with false sympathy. "The sad little princess without a wolf."

"Perhaps we should help her," Elysia suggested, exchanging a glance with Daphne that sent ice down my spine. "Make sure she looks her best for her pity dance."

Before I could react, Isolde's champagne spilled down the front of my gown. I gasped at the coldness seeping through the delicate silk.

"Oh dear," Isolde said with exaggerated concern. "How clumsy of me. You should clean that up before it stains."

They were trying to get me to leave the ballroom. To miss whatever dance Prince Thorne might grant me out of "kindness" or "pity" or whatever his motivation truly was.

"It's fine," I said, dabbing at the wetness with the small handkerchief I carried. "It will dry."

Irritation flashed across Isolde's face before she composed herself. "As you wish. But don't say I didn't try to help."

The royal trumpets sounded then, announcing the start of the formal dancing. My sisters moved away, Isolde gliding toward the center where Prince Thorne awaited, looking devastatingly handsome in his formal attire, black with silver accents that matched his extraordinary eyes.

Those eyes found mine across the room, and something shifted inside me again, that strange stirring warmth. He inclined his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, before taking Isolde's hand as protocol demanded.

The music began, and they moved together with practiced grace, two apex predators circling each other in the guise of a waltz. Isolde was stunning, her movements fluid and perfect. Next to her, I was nothing but a pale imitation, a ghost of what a Moonvale princess should be.

Yet Prince Thorne's eyes kept finding mine as he turned Isolde around the floor. Each glance sent that strange heat coursing through me again, as if something inside me recognized something inside him.

Impossible.

When the first dance ended, Prince Thorne escorted Isolde back to King Alaric's side, bowed respectfully, and then, to the visible surprise of the entire court, began walking directly toward me.

Every step he took in my direction caused whispers to ripple through the crowd. I stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe as he approached.

"Princess Arianthe," he said, his deep voice carrying just enough to be heard by those nearest us. "I believe you promised me a dance."

"I…I don't recall making such a promise, Your Highness," I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.

A smile curved his lips, transforming his severe features. "Then allow me to request one now."

He extended his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I placed mine in his. That now-familiar jolt passed between us, stronger this time, making me gasp softly.

Prince Thorne led me to the center of the ballroom, where all eyes tracked our movements with undisguised curiosity and, in some cases, outright shock. I could feel Isolde's glare burning into my back, her fury a palpable thing.

"Everyone is staring," I whispered as Prince Thorne turned to face me, one strong hand settling at my waist, the other clasping my fingers.

"Let them," he replied, his voice low and intense. "I care only for your attention, Princess."

The music began, and he swept me into the dance with effortless strength, his movements powerful yet controlled. I followed his lead, grateful for the years of training that allowed my body to respond correctly even as my mind reeled from his words.

"You're trembling," he observed as we moved across the floor.

"I'm not used to being the center of attention," I admitted. "Not like this."

"You should be." His silver eyes held mine captive. "You outshine everyone in this room."

I nearly missed a step. "Your Highness, please. Such flattery is unnecessary."

"It isn't flattery if it's true." His hand at my waist pulled me a fraction closer, sending my pulse racing. "And I've told you already, I sense something in you that others have missed. Something powerful."

That dangerous hope flared again. "What do you mean?"

"Your wolf isn't absent, Princess Arianthe. It's dormant."

My breath caught. "That's impossible. I've never shifted. Never felt…"

"Never felt what you're feeling now?" he interrupted, his voice dropping lower. "The heat under your skin? The strange recognition when our eyes meet? The way your body responds to mine without conscious thought?"

Yes, all of that and more, sensations I had no name for, feelings I'd never experienced before he walked into my life less than five hours ago.

"That's your wolf," he continued as we turned across the floor. "Recognizing mine. Responding to its mate."

Mate. The word echoed through me like a church bell, resonant and powerful.

"No," I whispered, fear and longing warring within me. "That can't be. I'm wolfless. I'm…"

"You are mine," he growled softly, the sound sending shivers down my spine. For an instant, his eyes flashed with a silvery glow, his wolf looking out at me through human eyes.

And something inside me answered.

I stumbled, momentarily overwhelmed by the sensation. Prince Thorne steadied me seamlessly, making my misstep appear part of the dance.

"There," he said with satisfaction. "You felt it."

I couldn't deny it. Something had stirred within me, something wild and ancient that recognized the predator holding me in his arms as kin. As a mate.

"It's not possible," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

"Tonight, after the ball," Prince Thorne said as we continued to dance, "meet me in the east garden, by the old moon willow.

The promise in his words both terrified and thrilled me. "I can't just…"

"You can. And you will." His certainty was hypnotic. "Because you're tired of living half a life, Princess. I can see it in your eyes."

Before I could respond, I felt a sharp tug at my hem. My next step faltered as resistance pulled at my gown. Something tore with a sickening ripping sound.

Prince Thorne tried to adjust to help me recover, but it was too late. The delicate silver silk, stepped on deliberately by someone behind me, tore away from the bodice of my gown. In horror, I felt the entire left side of my dress collapse, exposing my corset and the chemise beneath to the entire court.

Gasps echoed across the ballroom. Someone tittered. Then another. Soon, muffled laughter spread like wildfire.

I stood frozen in humiliation, arms crossing desperately over my exposed undergarments, my cheeks burning with mortification. Through tear-blurred vision, I caught sight of Elysia and Daphne, hands covering their mouths in false shock, eyes gleaming with malicious triumph.

"Causing a scene again, Arianthe?" Cassandra's voice carried across the sudden silence. "How typical."

In that moment of utter shame, as my carefully constructed dignity shattered around me, Prince Thorne did something unexpected. Without hesitation, he removed his formal jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, covering me completely in the heavy, expensive fabric that carried his scent, pine forests after rain, wild mountain air, and something uniquely his.

"Are you hurt?" he asked quietly, his body shielding me from the curious eyes of the court.

I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat. Couldn't breathe past the crushing weight of humiliation. All I could do was shake my head slightly.

"This was deliberate," he growled, his eyes scanning the crowd, lingering on my sisters' false expressions of concern. "I will not forget this."

The threat in his voice was unmistakable, sending a ripple of unease through the onlookers. Even my sisters seemed momentarily taken aback by the barely leashed fury emanating from the Silvercliff heir.

"Your Highness," King Alaric approached, his expression a careful mask of concern. "Perhaps it would be best if Arianthe retired for the evening. These... unfortunate accidents happen."

"Accident," Prince Thorne repeated, the word dangerous in its softness. "Is that what you call it?"

My father's smile tightened. "Prince Thorne, I assure you…"

"It's fine," I managed to whisper, finding my voice at last. "Father is right. I should go."

I couldn't bear to stay not with hundreds of eyes watching, not with whispers already spreading through the court about the wolfless princess causing another scene, disgracing her family once again.

"Let me escort you," Prince Thorne insisted.

"No." I gripped his jacket tightly around me. "Please. You should stay. This alliance is too important."

His jaw tightened, but he understood the political necessities as well as I did. A prince couldn't abandon a royal ball to comfort a disgraced princess, especially not when he was supposedly here to court her sister.

"Keep the jacket," he said, his fingers briefly, tenderly, touching mine. "And remember what I said. The moon willow, after the ball."

With as much dignity as I could muster, wrapped in Prince Thorne's too-large jacket that smelled of him, I turned and walked toward the nearest exit, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed me.

I had almost reached the door when Isolde's voice, pitched to carry, stopped me cold.

"Such a disgrace," she said to Cassandra, loud enough for nearby courtiers to hear. "Always causing trouble wherever she goes. As if being wolfless wasn't shameful enough."

Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not where they could see.

I pushed through the doors, ignoring the hand of a concerned servant who tried to help me, and ran. Through the marble corridors, past startled guards and wide-eyed staff, I ran until I reached the east gardens, where the ancient moon willow stood sentinel over generations of Moonvale secrets.

There, in the shadow of its silver-leaved branches, I finally let myself break. Tears streamed down my face as sobs tore from my throat, years of endured humiliation and loneliness pouring out in a flood I couldn't contain.

I don't know how long I cried, huddled beneath the willow's protective canopy. Long enough for the music from the ballroom to change tempo several times. Long enough for my tears to slow from desperate sobs to quiet hiccups.

Long enough to realize I wasn't alone.

"Princess."

I looked up, startled to find Prince Thorne standing a few feet away, his white dress shirt gleaming in the moonlight, his powerful frame outlined in silver.

"Your Highness," I scrambled to my feet, mortified that he'd found me like this. "The ball, you should be…"

"I'm exactly where I need to be," he said, closing the distance between us. Without his jacket, the breadth of his shoulders and the strength in his arms were even more apparent, sending a different kind of tremor through me.

"How did you get away?" I asked, wiping hastily at my tear-stained cheeks.

"I claimed a need for air after the... incident." His expression darkened. "Your sisters will pay for what they did."

"No," I shook my head. "Please. It will only make things worse."

"They humiliated you deliberately. That can't go unanswered."

"It's nothing new," I admitted, tired of pretending. "They've always... I've always been the target."

Prince Thorne moved closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. "Because they fear you."

A broken laugh escaped me. "Fear me? The wolfless princess? What is there to fear?"

"This," he said simply, one hand rising to cup my cheek. The contact sent that now-familiar heat spiraling through me, stronger than before, making me gasp. "They sense what I sense, even if they don't understand it. Power recognizes power, Princess."

"I'm not…"

"You are," he insisted, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear. "Your wolf is there, Arianthe. I can feel her. She's been sleeping, waiting."

"For what?" I whispered, lost in the intensity of his silver gaze.

"For me," he said with absolute certainty. "For her mate."

Before I could protest, before I could remind him of all the reasons this was impossible…that I was broken, that he was meant for Isolde, that our kingdoms needed an alliance…his lips found mine.

The kiss stole what little breath remained in my lungs. Soft at first, almost reverent, then deepening as I responded instinctively, my body arching toward his. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me against the hard planes of his chest as his mouth claimed mine with growing hunger.

And inside me, that spark of warmth exploded into an inferno.

For the first time in my life, I felt it….a presence unfurling in my mind, stretching after years of slumber. Wild. Fierce. Mine.

My wolf.

I broke the kiss with a gasp, staggering back as sensations overwhelmed me. Prince Thorne steadied me, his eyes glowing silver in the moonlight, watching with fierce satisfaction as I grappled with the awakening inside me.

"There she is," he murmured, his voice rough with desire and triumph. "Your wolf. Beautiful and strong, just like her human."

"How is this possible?" I whispered, trembling as my wolf stretched and yawned within me, her presence growing stronger by the second. "All these years..."

"She was waiting," Prince Thorne said, pulling me close again. "For the call of her mate. For me."

His lips claimed mine once more, and this time I surrendered completely, to him and to the wild creature now fully awake inside me. My wolf howled in triumph and recognition, and for the first time in my life, I felt whole.

Complete.

Mine, my wolf whispered, the word echoing through my very soul as Prince Thorne's arms tightened around me. Ours.