Mag-log inI watched Amelia as the elders spoke, studying every subtle shift in her expression, each tightening of her jaw, each momentary furrow of her brow. My mate had always been skilled at maintaining a mask of composure, but I’d learned to read the emotions she tried to hide. Right now, beneath her careful control, she was processing something monumental. The revelations about her birth, about Amala Luna Velasco, had clearly shaken her, but there was more. Something she needed to know but couldn’t quite bring herself to ask.Alara noticed too, her violet eyes warming with understanding as she studied my queen. “You want to know what your birth means, my Queen?” she asked, her voice gentle.Amelia gave a small, almost hesitant smile. “I’ve imagined so many scenarios over the years,” she admitted. “So many reasons or events that could have led to me ending up with Marcus and Elena. But just appe
The private dining room glowed in the morning light, casting warm patterns across the polished wood table where Elder Alara and Elder Orion waited. They rose in unison as Lukas and I entered, their eyes widening slightly at the crown nestled in my copper hair. I felt a flutter of nerves beneath my ribs, not from their scrutiny, but from the weight of history about to unfold. Yesterday, I’d been too exhausted to fully process their revelations. Today, with the crown’s gentle pressure against my temples, I couldn’t hide from who I truly was, or from the forces that had been manipulating my destiny since before I could walk.“Alpha Queen Amelia,” Elder Alara greeted, her unusual violet eyes lingering on my crown with unmistakable satisfaction. “The new crown suits you well.”“Alpha King Lukas,” Elder Orion added with a formal nod to Lukas. “Thank yo
I woke to the steady rhythm of Lukas’s heart beneath my ear, his arms wrapped around me like a fortress against the world. Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting our bedroom in soft gold that seemed to push back the shadows of yesterday’s revelations. Amelia Blackwood. Amelia Volkov. Amala Luna Velasco. The names tumbled through my mind like stones in a river, each one catching the light differently, each one a piece of who I was, or who I might become.Lukas’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, telling me he was awake without words. I tilted my head to find his ice-blue eyes already watching me, corners crinkled with a smile that hadn’t quite reached his lips.“Good morning, my Queen,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead that lingered like a promise.“Morning,” I replied, my voice still rough with sleep. I shifted slightly, testing my body
I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand, embarrassed by the tears that had escaped despite my best efforts to contain them. The whipping was ancient history, a pain I’d buried beneath layers of newer memories, yet speaking it aloud in this room, before these elders who claimed to have smuggled me to safety as a child, made it fresh again. I took a steadying breath, forcing myself past that old wound to the question that had been burning inside me since Sera first called me Amala Luna Velasco.“So do you know my actual parents?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. “My birth parents?”Orion and Alara exchanged a glance loaded with meaning I couldn’t decipher. Something passed between them, a silent communication born of decades together, perhaps, before Orion turned back to me with gentle eyes.“Really, child, we are your parents.”I froze, the words not making sense at first. “What do you mean, ‘really’?”Alara leaned forward, her unusual violet eyes holdi
I watched Amelia’s face as she absorbed what the elders were telling her, catching every subtle shift in her expression, the widening of her eyes, the tightness around her mouth, the slight furrow between her brows.My mate had always been skilled at maintaining a mask of calm, but I’d learned to read the emotions she tried to hide. Right now, beneath her careful composure, she was reeling. The revelation that she truly was Amala Luna Velasco, the subject of prophecy, smuggled away as a child, had shaken her in ways even the Voice’s mental invasion hadn’t managed to do. I squeezed her hand beneath the table, letting her feel my presence, my support.Amelia’s fingers tightened around mine, her knuckles white with pressure. When she spoke, her voice was steady despite the storm I could feel brewing within her.“So... why did I shift late?” she asked, her emerald eyes fixed on Alara’s violet ones. “If I’m this prophesied copper wolf, why didn’t I shift until I was eighteen?
The corridor stretched before us like a familiar dream as Lukas supported me with a steady arm. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else, wobbly and uncertain after fourteen hours of unconsciousness. The simple act of walking from the medical wing to our bedroom required more concentration than it should have, but I refused to be carried. Whatever revelations awaited me about my past, about Amala Luna Velasco, I would face them standing on my own two feet, not cradled in my mate’s arms like a child.“You’re stubborn,” Lukas murmured, his voice warm against my hair.I managed a tired smile. “You’re just figuring this out now?”His chuckle vibrated through the arm supporting me, the sound more comforting than he could possibly know. After being trapped in Sera’s nightmare visions, hearing Lukas laugh felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.Our bedroom door stood open when we reached it, someone having anticipated our arrival. Inside, fresh clothes had
I stood frozen on the palace steps, my mind struggling to reconcile the Amelia I knew; the servant girl who'd wiped my tears after Julian's beatings, who'd whispered impossible dreams of freedom in the dark, with this radiant creature before me. She wore an emerald gown that probably cost more th
My head swam with the weight of Silver Lake's sins. After hours of methodically cataloging every infraction, every cruelty inflicted by those I'd once called family, exhaustion pulled at me like gravity. Each transgression we'd documented had been a fresh cut across old scars. Marcus's calculated
I drummed my fingers against the ancient ironwood of my desk, watching the minutes tick closer to two o'clock. The morning without Amelia had stretched interminably, my thoughts repeatedly drifting to her copper hair spread across library tables as she absorbed knowledge with that fierce concentr
I watched Lily's face as she took another bite of pastry, her eyes closing briefly in pleasure. Even with her bruised wrists and the careful way she held herself to avoid aggravating her back, there was a hint of the old Lily in that expression—the girl who could find joy in small things despite







