Selene's pov

The first time someone tried to kill me, I was accused of stealing bread I never touched.

I was ten.

Old Mrs. Wren had grabbed my wrist so tightly her nails broke my skin. She swore she'd watched me sneak into her bakery before sunrise. The whole village believed her...until the missing loaf was found in her own oven.

No one apologized.

They only looked at me the way people looked at storms, hoping I'd pass without destroying anything.

Twelve years later, nothing had changed.

"I don't care what anyone says," Mara muttered as she shoved another loaf into my basket. "If Mrs. Wren accuses you again, I'm throwing this bread at her face."

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

"You'd start a war over a loaf of bread?"

"I'd start a war because she annoys me."

"That's a terrible reason."

"It's still a reason."

The smell of warm bread wrapped around us as the bakery door swung open. Morning sunlight spilled across the cobbled street, and for one impossible moment, everything felt ordinary.

Children chased each other through the square.

Merchants argued over prices.

A blacksmith hammered glowing steel.

The village looked exactly as it had yesterday.

Exactly as it always had.

And yet...

My chest tightened.

I couldn't explain why.

It felt as though someone was watching me.

Again.

I turned.

Nothing.

Only a hooded traveler standing beside the old well.

The moment our eyes almost met, he disappeared into the crowd.

Strange.

"You've gone pale," Mara said.

"I'm fine."

"You only say you're fine when you're absolutely not."

Before I could answer, the church bell rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The square fell silent.

Father never rang the bell during market hours.

Never.

The village elder hurried onto the stone platform, his weathered face drained of color.

"Everyone return to your homes," he announced. "Immediately."

Confused whispers spread through the crowd.

"Royal wolves have crossed the eastern border."

Fear swept through the village faster than wildfire.

Merchants abandoned their stalls.

Children were dragged indoors.

Doors slammed shut one after another.

The Kingdom of Hertz rarely visited forgotten villages like ours.

When they did...

People disappeared.

Mara grabbed my arm.

"Let's go."

We ran.

...

Father was already bolting the windows when we burst inside.

His herbal satchel lay open across the table, dried leaves scattered everywhere.

He looked up, relief flashing across his face.

"You're home."

"What's happening?" I asked.

"The royal guard."

"I heard."

"No." His voice hardened. "You don't understand."

He crossed the room in two hurried steps and cupped my face.

"If anyone knocks on this door..."

His hands trembled.

"...you do not answer."

I frowned.

"Father"

"Promise me."

The desperation in his eyes stole every argument from my tongue.

"I promise."

Only then did he let go.

A heavy silence settled over the cottage.

Outside, horses thundered across the frozen road.

Metal armor clinked.

Orders were shouted.

My heartbeat matched every hoofbeat.

Hours crawled by.

No one spoke.

The fire burned low.

Even Mara, who normally couldn't stay quiet for more than a minute, sat frozen beside me.

Then...

Three knocks.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Every hair on my body stood on end.

Father closed his eyes.

As though he'd been expecting this.

"Take Mara," he whispered.

"What?"

"Hide in the cellar."

"I'm not leaving you."

His voice cracked for the first time in my life.

"Please."

That single word frightened me more than the knocking.

He had never begged.

Not once.

He pushed us toward the cellar door.

The wooden steps groaned beneath our feet.

Darkness swallowed us.

The door shut overhead.

I heard the lock slide into place.

Then...

The front door opened.

A deep male voice echoed through the cottage.

"We're looking for a girl."

Father answered calmly.

"There are many girls in this village."

"This one has gray-blue eyes."

My breath caught.

Gray-blue.

Mine.

Mara's fingers tightened around mine.

"You've mistaken the house," Father said.

Silence.

Then another voice.

"My lord...the scent ends here."

Scent?

Wolves.

Real wolves.

A violent crash shook the cottage.

Wood splintered.

Furniture overturned.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

"Search everywhere."

Heavy boots pounded across the floor above us.

Cupboards opened.

Glass shattered.

Another door burst apart.

Closer.

Closer.

The cellar handle rattled.

My pulse roared in my ears.

Someone was standing right above us.

The latch clicked.

Light spilled into the darkness.

A pair of polished black boots appeared first.

Then long legs wrapped in a dark military coat.

Broad shoulders.

Snow-white hair.

Silver-gray eyes.

Everything about him radiated impossible authority.

He couldn't have been much older than twenty-seven.

Yet every soldier behind him lowered their heads.

No one spoke.

No one breathed.

His gaze swept across the cellar.

It landed on Mara.

Then...

On me.

Time stopped.

His expression didn't change.

Not until he noticed the silver crescent pendant hanging around my neck.

His pupils narrowed.

Shock flickered across his face.

Not recognition.

Disbelief.

Impossible disbelief.

He descended the cellar steps slowly.

One.

Two.

Three.

Every instinct screamed at me to run.

I couldn't move.

He stopped only inches away.

Close enough for me to notice the faint scar cutting across his jaw.

Close enough to smell snow and cedar clinging to his clothes.

He lifted one gloved hand.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

His fingers brushed the pendant.

The moment he touched it...

Pain exploded through my chest.

A blinding silver light burst from beneath my skin.

Ancient symbols blazed across my arms.

The entire cottage trembled.

The soldiers stumbled backward.

"My lord..."

One of them sounded terrified.

The white-haired stranger stared at the glowing marks spreading beneath my skin.

His face drained of color.

"No..."

He whispered the word like a prayer.

"...they lied."

Before I could ask what he meant, another voice thundered from outside.

"Kill her!"

The white-haired man's head snapped toward the door.

His eyes darkened with a fury so absolute the air itself seemed to freeze.

He looked back at me.

For the first time since entering the cellar...

I saw fear.

Not for himself.

For me.

He stepped between me and the doorway, drew the black sword strapped across his back, and said the last words I expected to hear.

"If you want to live..."

He met my eyes.

"...don't trust the king."

Then the first arrow crashed through the cellar window.