The Royal’s Oath is a sacred magical vow exclusive to the Were royal bloodline, binding the speaker to their word with an unbreakable force. Once sworn, the Oath manifests as a sigil—glowing silver script that appears on the royal’s skin and fades once the promise is fulfilled. It is a mark of power, trust, and absolute authority.
It was once a power that dates back to the first Were kings, who wielded it to command loyalty from their subjects and assure them that they are worthy of their loyalty and reverence.If the Were Royal who made the Oath didn't follow through, they will be punished, depending on the severity of the Oath they made. The heavier the promise, the severe the punishment.Now, the Were Royals make it a point to hide the existence of the Oath as much as possible. They even erased records of it from the Royal Library.However, the Lycans are well aware of the whole thing and they refuse to forget it as a reminder that even the WDays pass, and I manage to survive the ball without any major troubles. The meeting with that annoying Lord Ellian turns out to be nothing more than a small hiccup—a minor bump on the road. After the music faded and my stolen dance with Casimir ended, the blaring fanfare announcing the arrival of the King and Crown Prince echoed through the ballroom. A blessing in disguise. With all eyes shifting toward the throne, I knew I had my chance to slip away. Still, a gnawing thought keeps me rooted in place. I don't want to take any chances. Before we leave, I need to make sure Lord Ellian’s interest in me was merely fleeting boredom, not something deeper—or worse, suspicious. If he noticed anything strange about Casimir’s behavior... if he suspected that my so-called slave was anything but obedient... I steal a quick peek through the grand doors. Relief floods me when I spot Lord Ellian already sidling up to the King and Crown Prince, his every word dripping with flattery. Whatever idl
Lilac Palace is unusually quiet this morning but my thoughts are anything but. There's a tension in the air, a whisper of the storm about to come...tonight's formal gathering at the main palace.I don't want to go.I haven't set foot in the royal ballroom since my mother's memorial. I've avoided these events as much as I could get away with, claiming headaches or palace duties, or just simply disappearing when no one was paying attention.But this one? It's non-negotiable. Since I've already been considered absent for past events, my continued absence will cause too many whispers and too many questions.And getting attention is the last thing I want. Especially when I want to keep Casimir's great living conditions a secret.Now that I have managed to surprise my siblings and the few other royals at the Choosing(where we choose our slaves) by picking Casimir, some of those eyes will be on me. And if I'm absent at the party, too many eyes would look for me elsewhere.With a sigh, I star
The rainstorm has passed but something still lingers in the air–something heavier than mist but softer than fog. Like something's hanging between us, unsaid. I still don't quite know what it is, only that I find myself thinking about him more than I should. And it's not just about what he is. A Lycan. A threat. A symbol of the rebellion that took everything from me(though, it was well deserved). No, not just those. It's also about who he is. The way he scowls when he's thinking too hard. How he looks away when I try to touch his arm but doesn't pull back. How he didn't let go of my hand when I was being patched up by Sanders. He doesn't bark at me like before and I've stopped flinching a little when he glares. From my position by the window in my room, I see him now in the gardens. I notice he comes there more often now. But this time around, he's not pacing like a prisoner. Instead, he's just there. Silently watching things. The trees. The wind. Me. Surprised at the sudd
The days after that shift something I can't name. I find myself reaching for Casimir's shoulder whenever I pass him in the hall, a brush of fingers like testing the edge of something fragile. He scowls every time but doesn't pull away. Sometimes, he just grumbles and narrows his eyes like I've done something scandalous but that's it. No more scathing remarks. No more insults. Sanders, of course, notices. "He hasn't left your side since it happened," he tells me while preparing tea one morning. "Even sleeps by the door. Like a guard dog." "He's not a dog," I sat quietly. Sanders smiles faintly. "No. Of course not. But I think he's starting to care." I sip the tea slowly, unsure how to feel about that. Technically, I don't need him to care. I just need him to stay until...well until I can propose a partnership of sorts. But maybe, just maybe–those can be the same thing. Little did I know that something would happen that would finally make m
The garden is quieter today.Winter hasn't fully left Lunareth yet but the sun shines just enough to melt the ice along the garden path, creating little rivulets that wind around the roots of the tree.Snow clings stubbornly to the shaded corners, a soft white blanket over dying roses and frozen herbs. I shouldn't be out here without a cloak but something in me needed the fresh, cold air. Needed the silence.Not the suffocating and lonely silence of my palace. I want some silence but not total silence. At least outside, I can hear the birds chirping and the breeze whistling.Lilac Palace may be mine in name, but it doesn't feel like it. Not truly. Not yet. Too many walls, too many ghosts.I walk along the stone path, my fingers brushing the brittle petals of a wilted rose. Even in death, it's beautiful. Stubborn. It reminds me of my mother.She loved this garden. She said everything here had a spirit. Even the weeds.Maybe once spring settles down
CasimirNight cloaks Lilac Palace like a thick velvet blanket, the only sound in the air is the rhythmic rustling of leaves outside and the far-off howl of a distant wolf. The corridor outside my room is dim, moonlight slipping through the tall arched windows, painting silver streaks across the marbled floor.And the door to my room? Unlocked.I check it again, just to be sure. My hand hovers over the knob, fingers curling around the metal. It gives way with a soft click.Opening it just a crack, no resistance. No chains. No locks. I hone my senses and no guards. Not even Sanders.I step out, barefoot, silent as the shadow. I narrow my eyes at the silence and the peacefulness of it all. Something tells me this is a trap of some sort.I pad through the corridor, muscles coiled and ready to pounce or counter whatever it is that wants to catch me off-guard. However, the palace is still. No patrols. No alarm.For a princess's palace, this place is pa