The One for The Crown

Arianna's POV

"No," I shook my head slowly, my throat tight. "That isn't possible."

"A single womb cannot contain royal Lycan blood without immense strain. It often kills ordinary human and wolf-less mothers," the chief physician explained, stepping closer. "But two independent wombs give your body a chance of surviving the strain. It makes your reproductive capacity unlike anyone we have ever scanned."

A cold feeling crept into my chest. Uniquely suited.

I had spent most of my life being told I was worthless because I had no wolf. I had been mocked as a bastard. And now, these people were looking at me as though I were a sacred relic. Not because of who I was, but because my body could give the royal family what they desperately needed.

An heir.

Lady Helena’s jaw tightened. "Eliora, prepare the paperwork immediately." She turned her sharp eyes directly onto me. "Take her straight to the room for the final evaluation. The King and Queen are already awaiting the remaining candidates."

"Wait, what room?" I called out, but Lady Helena was already gesturing for the guards to clear the hallway.

The chief physician gestured for me to stand. "Follow me. You will know when we arrive."

We moved quickly through the palace corridors, leaving the medical wing behind. Valtheris Palace was breathtaking, built from towering white stone and ancient silver pillars, but the dread settling in my gut kept me from admiring any of it.

As we turned down a quiet arched hallway, hushed voices drifted from two servants standing near a marble pillar.

"Is it true?" one whispered frantically. "The last healer who tried to soothe His Highness's wolf was carried out dead this morning."

My breath hitched. Carried out dead?

"His wolf has been completely out of control since the attack," the other servant replied, keeping her head low. "Without an heir, the other branches of the royal family will begin making their move."

I froze for a fraction of a second.

An heir wasn't simply a child to the Prince. It was survival. It was protection against a court waiting for him to fail. And if I carried that child, I would be walking straight into a royal target.

"Arianna," the physician’s stern voice pulled me back.

She had stopped before two massive black iron doors guarded by four heavily armed Royal Guards.

"This is where the final stage takes place," the physician said quietly. "The remaining candidates are inside, along with the King, the Queen, and the High Elders."

Before I could process her words, the guards pushed the heavy doors open.

A heavy, suffocating silence greeted us as I stepped inside the grand chamber. Silver chandeliers hung from towering ceilings, casting long shadows across the floor. At the far end of the room sat the King and Queen on elevated thrones, surrounded by Elders in dark robes.

Only five other candidates remained out of the fifty who had arrived.

My gaze swept past them and landed on the figure near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The Lycan Prince.

He sat in a sleek, black wheelchair, his legs covered by a dark cashmere blanket. A strip of thick black silk covered his eyes.

Nothing about him looked fragile or helpless.

The entire chamber seemed to revolve around him. His jaw was hard and sharply defined, his dark hair neatly styled, and his posture rigidly straight. One hand rested lightly on the armrest, his thumb slowly tracing a carved silver cross ring.

Then my gaze shifted to what stood directly beside his chair, and my blood ran cold.

A giant crimson wolf.

A Lycan’s wolf was never supposed to manifest outside its body. Yet here it stood, a terrifying wolf formed from smoke, blood, and flickering red flames. Its molten gold eyes burned with pure, unbridled malice as it hovered beside its master.

The moment I crossed the threshold, the wolf's head snapped toward me.

A low, thunderous growl rolled through the chamber, vibrating straight through the stone floor and into my bones. Several candidates gasped, dropping to their knees in terror. The guards tightened their grips on their spears.

"Run," my instincts screamed.

The wolf bared massive, razor sharp fangs, taking a low, menacing step toward me.

The Prince didn't move an inch. He remained perfectly still, utterly detached from the monster beside him.

I forced myself to stand my ground, staring back at the wolf.

Then something strange happened.

As the wolf's golden eyes locked onto mine, the flames beneath its fur flickered and softened. The thunderous growl slowly died down in its throat.

I stiffened.

A sudden, invisible tug pulled at my chest. It was soft at first, like a thin thread snapping tight between the wolf and me, drawing me forward.

Without realizing it, I took a step closer, pulled by that strange connection in my chest.

Just as my foot hit the floor, the Prince’s fingers stopped turning the silver ring.

The entire chamber fell dead silent.

Slowly, the blind prince turned his head. His covered gaze locked directly onto me with terrifying, pinpoint precision. I froze, my heart slamming wildly against my ribs.

I made no sound. I hadn't uttered a word.

He couldn't see me.

Or could he?

Then, his thin lips parted, his voice deep, smooth, and laced with absolute, chilling command.

"You," he said, the sound echoing through the frozen room. "Come closer."