4

                                                        ARIANTHE

Sunlight streamed through my bedroom curtains, painting golden paths across my silver bedspread. For one blissful moment, I floated in that hazy space between dreams and wakefulness, where nothing existed but warmth and possibility.

Then it all came rushing back, the dance, the humiliation, Prince Thorne's jacket around my shoulders, and most shockingly, the awakening of my wolf under the moon willow. My wolf. After twenty-two years of emptiness, of being the broken princess, the wolfless disgrace, she was there. I could feel her presence even now, stretching languidly within me.

I sat up, pressing a hand to my chest where an unfamiliar warmth pulsed steadily and strongly. Was this what my sisters had felt their entire lives? This wild, fierce presence sharing their soul?

Mine, she whispered, her voice becoming clearer with every passing hour. Ours.

A smile touched my lips. No matter what happened next, they could never take this from me again. I was no longer the wolfless princess.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts, and Maren, my lady's maid, entered carrying a breakfast tray.

"Good morning, Your Highness," she said, her eyes carefully averted as she set the tray beside my bed. "I've brought your favorite tea."

"Thank you, Maren." I studied her downcast face, noting the unusual tension in her shoulders. "Is something wrong?"

She hesitated, fingers fidgeting with her apron. "Not at all, Your Highness. Just... court gossip. Nothing worth repeating."

Court gossip. Of course. My humiliation from last night would be on everyone's lips this morning.

"I'm quite used to being the subject of palace whispers, Maren," I said with forced lightness. "You needn't protect me."

She glanced up, then quickly away again. "It's not about you, Your Highness. Not directly."

Something in her tone set alarm bells ringing. "What then?"

Maren took a deep breath. "It's about Prince Thorne and... Princess Isolde."

My wolf, so recently awakened, went unnaturally still. "Go on."

"The servants are saying..." She lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "They're saying Prince Thorne spent the night in Princess Isolde's chambers."

The teacup I'd been reaching for slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering back onto the tray. "What did you say?"

"Lady Isolde's personal maid saw him leave her chambers this morning," Maren continued reluctantly. "And... there are rumors that the betrothal will be announced at tonight's feast."

Ice spread through my veins, freezing the blood that had run so hot just moments before. Prince Thorne and Isolde. Together. After he had kissed me under the moon, willow. After he had awakened my wolf with promises of being my mate.

"Thank you for telling me, Maren," I managed, my voice hollow even to my own ears. "That will be all for now."

She curtseyed and retreated, leaving me alone with the devastating news. My wolf whined in confused pain, refusing to believe what we'd just heard.

Mate, she insisted. Ours.

But wolves could be wrong, couldn't they? Or perhaps Prince Thorne had simply been playing a cruel game all along. Maybe Isolde had put him up to it, one final humiliation for her wolfless sister, making me believe I was special, desired, only to snatch it away.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold together the pieces that threatened to shatter. Fool. I was such a fool to believe that someone like Prince Thorne Silvercliff would truly want me.

Last night's joy curdled into something bitter and painful. I forced myself from bed, mechanically going through the motions of dressing, refusing Maren's help when she returned. I chose a gown of deep midnight blue, the color of shadows, of things better left unseen. Like me.

By midmorning, I could no longer bear the confines of my chambers. I slipped out, hoping to find solace in the royal library where I'd spent so many lonely hours throughout my life. But the whispers followed me everywhere.

"...never seen Prince Thorne so taken with anyone..."

"...Princess Isolde was positively glowing this morning..."

"...marriage alliance will be announced tonight..."

Each snippet of conversation was another dagger in my heart. My wolf paced restlessly within me, confused and angry, refusing to accept what my human mind knew to be true, we had been used, manipulated, made fools of.

I was nearly at the library when a hand caught my arm, pulling me into an alcove hidden behind a tapestry depicting the ancient werewolf kings. I gasped, ready to cry out, when familiar silver eyes locked with mine.

"Arianthe," Prince Thorne breathed, his voice rough with what sounded like relief. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I yanked my arm from his grasp, ignoring the way my wolf leapt at his presence. "Don't touch me."

Confusion crossed his handsome face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Don't pretend you don't know." Anger gave me courage I'd never possessed before. "Did you and my sister have a good laugh about it? The pathetic wolfless princess actually believes a prince would want her?"

Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by fury. "You heard rumors about me and Isolde."

"Rumors?" I laughed bitterly. "Is that what you call being seen leaving her chambers this morning? After spending the night telling me I was your mate?"

"Is that what you think happened?" His voice lowered dangerously, hands clenching at his sides. "That I left you under the moon willow, awakened to your wolf, only to go straight to your sister's bed?"

"What else am I supposed to think?" I hissed, fighting back tears. "Everyone in the palace is talking about it. The maids, the guards, the courtiers, all whispering about how taken you are with Isolde, how the betrothal announcement will come tonight."

Prince Thorne stepped closer, backing me against the wall. "And you believed them. Without question. Without faith."

"Why shouldn't I?" My voice broke despite my best efforts. "Everyone has lied to me my entire life. My father, my sisters, and the court doctors who said my wolf was never there. Why should you be any different?"

Something flashed in his eyes, pain, and a grief that matched my own. "Because I'm your mate, Arianthe. Your wolf knows it, even if you refuse to trust it."

"Then explain," I demanded, my wolf pushing forward, desperate for his answer to make sense of the chaos. "Explain why you were seen leaving my sister's chambers this morning."

His jaw tightened. "Isolde drank too much after you left the ball. She made a scene, trying to throw herself at me in front of both courts. Your father asked me to help escort her to her chambers, along with her ladies and two royal guards. She was unconscious before we even reached her door."

I searched his face, looking for any sign of deception. "And this morning?"

"I was summoned to speak with her about the betrothal." His eyes never left mine. "The betrothal she believes is happening between us."

"But the rumors…."

"Were started deliberately," he cut in, voice hard. "By those who want this alliance to proceed as originally planned. Your sister is chief among them."

Hope flickered, fragile and terrifying. "You didn't spend the night with her?"

"No," he said, stepping closer still until his body nearly touched mine. The heat of him, the scent, pine forests, and mountain air, made my wolf strain toward him. "The only woman I spent the night thinking about was you, Princess. The only lips I tasted were yours."

I swallowed hard, wanting desperately to believe him. "Then why would the servants say…"

"Because servants repeat what they're told to repeat," he said simply. "Especially when ordered by the crown princess."

My heart stuttered. It made sense, Isolde controlling the narrative, using the palace whispers as she always had, to weave whatever truth suited her purposes.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," I admitted, my defenses crumbling under the intensity of his silver gaze.

"Believe this," Prince Thorne whispered, and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was different from last night's, not a gentle awakening but a claiming, fierce and possessive. My wolf howled in triumph as his arms encircled me, pulling me against the hard planes of his chest. My body responded without conscious thought, melting into him as if we'd been made to fit together.

When he finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine.

"You feel it," he said roughly. "The bond. The mate-call. You can't deny it any more than I can."

"I feel it," I admitted, my voice barely audible. "But it doesn't change anything. You came here for an alliance with my sister, with the true heir to the Moonvale throne. Not the broken princess everyone pities."

"You're not broken." His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing across my lower lip. "You're mine. The only one I want. The only one I'll have."

Hope bloomed, dangerous and sweet. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that tonight, at the betrothal ceremony, I'm going to announce that I'm choosing you, Arianthe Moonvale. Not your sister. You."

The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "You can't. My father would never allow it. The alliance.."

"The alliance will be stronger with you as my queen," he insisted. "Once they see what you truly are, what we awakened last night, they'll understand."

"They'll destroy me," I whispered, terror seizing my heart. "My sisters, my father, they've spent my entire life ensuring I know my place. That I understand my worthlessness. If you do this…"

"They can't touch you," he growled, the wolf in his eyes flashing silver. "Not anymore. Because you're under my protection."

"You don't understand what they're capable of."

"And you don't understand what I'm capable of," he countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble that made my wolf tremble with recognition. "Trust me, Arianthe. Trust your wolf. She knows I'll protect you both with my life."

I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. Wanted to trust that this beautiful, powerful prince could shield me from the lifetime of cruelty I'd endured. That my newly awakened wolf and I could step out of the shadows and into the light of his protection.

"I'm afraid," I admitted, the confession costing me dearly.

His expression softened. "I know. But I'll be with you every step. We'll face them together."

He kissed me again, gentler this time but no less consuming. When he released me, I swayed toward him instinctively, my body already addicted to his touch.

"Tonight," he promised against my lips. "Everything changes tonight."

The royal dining hall blazed with light, hundreds of candles reflecting off silver and crystal until the room seemed crafted from stars themselves. I entered alone, my midnight blue gown swirling around me like shadows given form.

Conversations hushed momentarily as I passed, then resumed with increased intensity. I kept my head high, channeling the newfound strength of my wolf, refusing to cower as I had for so many years.

Strength, my wolf urged. Show strength.

My sisters were already seated at the high table, Isolde resplendent in emerald green that made her silver-blonde hair seem almost white in contrast. The smug satisfaction on her face sent ice through my veins. Had Prince Thorne lied to me after all?

"Little sister," Cassandra called as I approached. "We saved you a seat. Far enough from the announcement not to cause any... disruptions."

I took my assigned place, at the furthest end of the family table, nearly hidden in shadow. My usual spot, designed to make me as invisible as possible.

"You look unwell, Arianthe," Elysia said with false concern. "Perhaps the excitement is too much for you."

"I'm quite well, thank you," I replied, amazed at how steady my voice sounded when inside I was trembling with uncertainty.

"Such a pity about your gown last night," Daphne added with a smirk. "So unfortunate that you missed most of the ball. Prince Thorne was particularly... attentive to Isolde after you left."

Lies. I knew they were lies. Yet doubt whispered poisonous thoughts: What if Prince Thorne had changed his mind? What if the political advantages of marrying Isolde outweighed whatever he felt for me?

"I believe Prince Thorne makes his own choices about where to direct his attention," I said carefully.

Isolde leaned forward, her smile razor-sharp. "Indeed, he does, sister. And he made his choice quite clear when he came to my chambers last night."

My wolf snarled, the sound nearly escaping my human throat. "Is that what happened, Isolde? Are you certain that's the story you want to tell?"

Something flickered in her eyes, uncertainty, perhaps, at my uncharacteristic challenge. Before she could respond, trumpets announced the arrival of the royal parties.

King Alaric entered first, followed by King Doran Silvercliff, both monarchs resplendent in formal attire. And then came Prince Thorne, devastating in black and silver, his powerful frame commanding attention from everyone in the room.

His eyes found mine immediately, as if drawn by an invisible thread. The intensity of his gaze sent heat through my body, my wolf stretching in recognition.

Mate, she whispered. Ours.

"Stop staring, Arianthe," Isolde hissed. "You're embarrassing yourself."

I ignored her, too captivated by the slight smile that curved Prince Thorne's lips as our eyes held. Whatever happened next, I knew last night under the moon willow had been real. My wolf was real. His recognition of me was real.

The formal dinner proceeded with excruciating slowness, course after course of exquisite food I could barely taste, conversations about trade and borders and hunting that washed over me like meaningless noise. Through it all, Prince Thorne's gaze returned to me again and again, each glance a secret promise.

Finally, as dessert was being cleared, King Alaric rose to his feet. The hall fell silent in anticipation.

"Esteemed guests, noble allies," my father began, his voice carrying to every corner of the vast room. "Tonight marks a historic occasion for our kingdoms. For too long, the Moonvale and Silvercliff packs have maintained distance, despite our common enemies."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

"But tonight," King Alaric continued, "we forge a new bond, a sacred alliance through the most ancient of traditions, the joining of royal bloodlines."

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain everyone could hear it. This was the moment. The moment Prince Thorne had promised would change everything.

"Prince Thorne Silvercliff, heir to the Northern Territories, has honored us with his presence these past days, and with his interest in joining our houses." My father turned to Prince Thorne, who rose with fluid grace. "Prince Thorne, you have my permission to speak."

The room hushed, hundreds of eyes fixed on the imposing figure of the Silvercliff heir. My sisters leaned forward eagerly, Isolde's face a mask of triumphant anticipation.

Prince Thorne's voice, deep and commanding, filled the hall. "King Alaric, King Doran, noble guests, I stand before you tonight with clarity of purpose and conviction of heart."

His eyes found mine across the room, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Just him and me, and the promise between us.

"I came to Moonvale Kingdom seeking an alliance," he continued. "A joining of our royal houses to strengthen both our peoples against our common enemies."

My wolf paced restlessly, sensing the importance of what was coming. I gripped the edge of the table, hardly daring to breathe.

"After careful consideration," Prince Thorne said, his voice strong and clear, "I have made my choice."

The tension in the room was palpable. Isolde sat straighter, a smile of anticipation curving her perfect lips.

Prince Thorne's next words fell like stones into still water.

"I formally request the hand of Princess Isolde Moonvale in marriage, to seal the bond between our kingdoms."

The world stopped.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't think.

I could only feel a tearing, ripping sensation as if my newly awakened wolf were being wrenched from my soul.

Across the table, Isolde's face bloomed with vicious triumph as she rose gracefully to accept Prince Thorne's outstretched hand. The hall erupted in applause and cheers, the sound distant and hollow in my ringing ears.

My wolf howled in agonized confusion. Mate! she cried. OURS!