The Prince At The Door

Father had been preparing for three days. Mother had cleaned the house three times. Cael took leave from his post and waited at home in his best coat, hair slicked back like a boy at a school recital.

I knew all of this because I heard it through the attic floor. I learned the rest from the way they treated me at dawn.

“Wash your face,” Mother ordered, tossing a clean apron onto my bed. “You will serve the tea.”

“I thought I was to stay out of sight.”

“The prince asked for a full household welcome. Every member of the family. Don’t make me look foolish.”

*The prince.*

I got dressed with shaking hands. My face in the mirror was nearly transparent. Purple shadows ringed my eyes, and my hair hung limp. Mother handed me a tray with a silver pot, six cups, and a plate of honey cakes.

“Don’t spill,” she warned. “And for goodness’ sake, smile.”

I stood on the landing and listened to horses in the courtyard. Boots struck the stone. A deep voice said a few quiet words, and every hair on my arms stood up.

My fingers trembled so badly the cups rattled. I steadied the tray against my hip, took a breath, and went down.

The parlor was full of people. Lila sat on the best sofa in a pale blue gown, her hand fluttering at her collar.

Father stood stiff beside the fireplace. Beside him, a tall young man with a friendly face leaned against the wall, watching me with open curiosity. He wore the black and silver uniform of the royal guard.

And at the window, with his back to me, stood the prince.

He was broad and tall and utterly still. Black hair brushed his collar. A long coat of dark leather hung from his shoulders, and a sword rested at his hip as if it had grown there. The room felt smaller around him.

“Your Highness,” Father said stiffly. “May I present my younger daughter.”

The prince turned.

Everything inside me went quiet.

His eyes were amber, the color of firelight through honey. A thin white scar ran along his jaw. His face was hard and cold, built for battle. But the moment those eyes touched mine, the hardness broke.

He took one step toward me. Then another.

“Prince Kaelen,” the friendly guard murmured, in a voice of warning.

Kaelen did not seem to hear. He stopped an arm’s length away, and his nostrils flared. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides.

“Moon and stars,” he breathed.

The tray in my hands shook. A cup slid and clinked against the pot. Kaelen caught it before it fell. His fingers brushed mine, and heat ran up my arm like lightning through a wire.

“Mate,” a deep voice growled in my head.

I did not know whose voice it was. I only knew it was not mine.

I stared at him. He stared back, shocked, as if he had heard it too.

“I am sorry,” he said, low. “What is your name?”

“Sera,” I whispered. “Sera Vale.”

“No,” he said. “That is not your name.”

The room fell silent.

He looked at me as if searching my face for something he had lost long ago. His gaze moved over my eyes, my cheekbones, the shape of my jaw. I realized with a rush of confusion that my eyes had gone warm. When I glanced at my reflection in the silver teapot, I saw a faint ring of silver glowing around the gray.

“The blood of the Moon Goddess,” he said, almost to himself. “The direct bloodline of the Dark Moon Pack.

Twenty years. I have been searching for twenty years.”

I almost dropped the tray.

“Your Highness,” Father said. His voice cracked in the middle. “There must be some mistake. My daughter is nobody. She is, well, a sickly girl.”

“Sickly,” Kaelen repeated.

“She cannot travel,” Mother added quickly. She stepped forward and laid a hand on my shoulder. Her nails dug in. “She faints often. She would never survive the journey. Please. Sit. Have some tea.”

Kaelen looked at her hand. Then he looked at my sleeve.

During the night, the bandages on my wrists had slipped. The bruises showed, and so did the long rows of tiny scars.

For one long moment, Kaelen said nothing at all.

The air in the room dropped. I felt it, a cold pressure that raised goose bumps along my neck. The friendly guard stepped sideways, away from his prince, and murmured, “Easy, sir.”

“What are these?” Kaelen asked. His voice was very quiet.

Nobody answered.

“I asked a question.”

“Transfusions,” Father stammered. “For our younger daughter. She is ill. Sera is a match, and she, she helped.”

“Helped,” Kaelen said.

“She is as strong as an ox,” Mother blurted. “She never complained.”

Kaelen turned to look at me. The ice in his face melted into something I could not name.

“Did you want to?” he asked me.

My throat went tight.

No one had ever asked me that. In nineteen years, not once.

“No,” I said. It was barely a breath.

“Do you want to stay here?”

I looked at my mother’s frozen face, at Lila’s small smile behind her hand, at my father staring at the carpet. At Cael, who still would not meet my eyes.

“No,” I said again, louder.

Kaelen nodded once. He held out his hand, palm up, and waited. He did not grab me. He did not pull. He simply let me choose.

I set the tray down on the nearest table. My legs trembled, but I crossed the carpet and placed my hand in his.

“You cannot do this,” Mother said shrilly. “She is our daughter!”

“Is she?” said Kaelen, without looking at her.

The guard, Tobias, was already at the door. Soldiers in black and silver filled the hall. Not one of my family moved. Not one dared.

Kaelen shrugged out of his heavy coat and wrapped it around my shoulders. It smelled of snow, cedar, and something wild. He lifted me off my feet as if I weighed nothing, and I was too tired and too stunned to argue.

On the stairs, I caught a glimpse of Lila. She was standing, not leaning on anything, with her hands folded neatly. She watched me go. Her face showed grief. Her eyes showed nothing.

The courtyard was bright with morning. A black carriage waited with the king’s crest on the door.

Kaelen set me inside and climbed in beside me, and the door shut on the whole sorry house behind us.

We rolled out through the gate. I leaned my head against the cushion and finally let myself breathe.

“I do not understand any of this,” I said.

“I know.” Kaelen sat across from me, one hand pressed to his chest as if something there hurt. “I will explain everything. But first, there is something you need to hear.”

His amber eyes met mine, grave and gentle.

“Your parents did not give you away, Sera. Your mother hid you. And someone has been paying the Vale family for twenty years to keep you weak.”