Chapter 2

"You have a choice," Uncle Mateo said gently. "We can continue hiding, find a new identity, a new location. Or..."

"Or I can claim my birthright," I finished. "Go back to a territory I don't remember, rule people I've never met, and probably get assassinated like my parents."

"It might," Alpha Logan interjected, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "A mated pair is stronger than an individual ruler. The Silver Stone pack would face not just you, but your mate's bloodline as well."

"Assuming my mate isn't some random human who knows nothing about werewolf politics," I muttered.

Uncle Mateo shook his head. "The Graystone line has never mated with humans. Your wolf would seek out someone worthy of your bloodline."

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "My wolf doesn't even know she's royal! Star thinks she's just a regular wolf who happens to live in hiding."

"Star?" Luna Mara's eyebrows shot up. "You named your wolf Star?"

Something in her tone made me pause. "Yes. Why?"

Luna Mara and Alpha Logan exchanged another one of those loaded glances that made my stomach knot.

"Because," Alpha Logan said carefully, "the Graystone royal line has carried the same wolf name for generations. Their wolves are always named after celestial bodies. Your mother's wolf was Luna, your father's Sol, and your brother's was Comet."

"I never told her that," Uncle Mateo whispered, his face pale. "I never mentioned the naming tradition."

A chill ran down my spine. "Are you saying I somehow knew?"

"Blood remembers," Luna Mara said simply. "Even when the mind forgets."

I sank back into my chair, overwhelmed. Star stirred inside me, more restless than I'd ever felt her.

"Let me get this straight," I said, trying to organize my thoughts. "I'm the last surviving member of a royal family that was murdered for refusing a political marriage. Now the people who killed my family want to find me, and my best chance of survival is to find my fated mate before they find me."

"That's... actually a pretty accurate summary," Maison said, the ghost of a smile crossing his face.

"And where exactly am I supposed to find this mate?" I demanded. "It's not like there's a dating app for royal werewolves on the run."

Uncle Mateo and Alpha Logan looked at each other, and I recognised the expression. It was the same one they wore whenever they knew something I wouldn't like.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"There's a gathering," Alpha Logan began, "that happens once every five years. The Lunar Conclave. Representatives from all the major packs attend to discuss treaties, resolve disputes, and... facilitate mate-finding among unmated wolves of a certain status."

"The next one is in two weeks," Luna Mara added. "In neutral territory—the mountain ranges to the west."

"Two weeks?" I repeated incredulously. "You expect me to go from burger-flipping to queen -seeking in two weeks? And what makes you think my mate would even be at this gathering?"

"The Lunar Conclave isn't just any gathering," Maison explained, his voice uncharacteristically patient. "It draws wolves from every territory. If your mate is of age, they'll likely be there."

"And if they're not?" I challenged.

"Then we proceed with Plan B," Alpha Logan said firmly. "We announce your survival at the Conclave itself, with enough allies present to ensure your safety."

My head was spinning. Everything I thought I knew about myself had been a carefully constructed lie. I wasn't Daisy Thompson, the unremarkable fast-food worker. I was Marabelle Graystone, heir to a throne I'd never seen, target of people who'd already murdered my family once.

"I need air," I muttered, standing abruptly.

No one tried to stop me as I walked out of the study and found my way to a balcony overlooking the pack grounds. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the training fields where young wolves sparred under the watchful eyes of their elders.

I heard the door open behind me but didn't turn around.

"For what it's worth," Maison said quietly, coming to stand beside me at the railing, "I understand how it feels to have your life decided for you."

I gave him a sideways glance. "You've been groomed to be Alpha your whole life. You knew exactly who you were."

"And never had a choice about it," he countered. "Just like you never had a choice about hiding."

We stood in silence for a moment, watching the pack go about their daily routines below.

"Why are you being nice to me suddenly?" I asked. "You've spent years glaring at me like I personally offended you."

Maison sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Nightshade sensed something powerful in you. Something that could be a threat to our pack. I thought you were hiding your true nature deliberately."

"I was hiding, all right," I said bitterly. "Just not from you. And apparently not well enough."

"Actually," he said, "you hid remarkably well. The Silver Stone pack has been searching for fifteen years without success. If Thomas hadn't gotten lucky..."

"Lucky how?"

Maison hesitated. "Father is investigating that. Thomas must have had help, inside information."

The implication sent a chill down my spine. "You think someone in your pack betrayed me?"

"Or someone close to Mateo," he said carefully. "We'll find out."

I gripped the railing tighter, my knuckles turning white. "All these years, I thought I was just some random wolf whose parents got caught in the crossfire. I've spent my life looking over my shoulder, never knowing why." My voice cracked. "And now you're telling me it's because I’m destined to become Queen in place of my brother, I don’t even remember having. Please, Maison, leave me alone, although I’m surprised your brother isn’t here too to have a good laugh at me at my expense as well.”

Maison's jaw tightened, his expression darkening. "Jackson isn't here because he's securing the borders with half our warriors. He doesn't know about any of this yet." He leaned against the railing beside me, maintaining a careful distance. "And he wouldn't laugh at you. Neither of us would."

I scoffed, trying to mask the tremor in my voice. "Right. Because you've both been so welcoming all these years."

"We were cautious," he admitted. "Nightshade and Shadowfang both sensed something... different about you. Something powerful. We didn't know what it meant."

I turned to face him fully. "So, you treated me like an outsider instead of just asking?"

"Would you have told the truth if we had?" he challenged. "Or would Uncle Mateo have moved you again, like he did the three times before you came here?"

My breath caught. "How did you—"

"My father keeps better records than Mateo realises," Maison said quietly. "I've known for years that you've been relocated multiple times. What I didn't know was why."

The setting sun cast half his face in shadow, the other half illuminated in gold. I noticed the faint scar running along his jawline for the first time, nearly invisible unless you were looking for it.

"A gift from the Silver Stone pack," he said, noticing my gaze. "Two years ago, during border negotiations. Their Alpha's son, Marc, took exception to something I said."

"Marc Stone," I repeated, the name sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "The one who was supposed to marry me."

Maison nodded grimly. "He's their Alpha now. His father died seven years ago last winter."

"And he's still looking for me." It wasn't a question.

"With renewed determination, according to our intelligence." Maison pushed away from the railing, pacing the small balcony. "Marc believes that finding and claiming would legitimise his rule over the Northern Territories once and for all."

The thought made my stomach turn. "He killed my family, and now he wants to marry me?"

"Politics," Maison said, the word dripping with disdain. "Royal werewolves have been making such arrangements for centuries."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm evening air. "I'm not royal. Not really. I don't remember that life. I don't know the first thing about being a queen or running a territory."

Maison stopped pacing, his grey eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity. "But your wolf does."

Before I could respond, the balcony door opened again. Uncle Mateo stepped outside, his weathered face lined with concern.

"Marabelle," he said gently, "we need to finish our discussion."

I flinched at the name. "Please don't call me that. Not yet."

His expression softened. "Daisy, then," he conceded. "Alpha Logan's scouts have reported movement at our northern borders. We need to make preparations."

"What kind of movement?" Maison asked sharply.

Uncle Mateo's eyes narrowed. "Silver Stone scouts. They're testing our defences."

"They know," I whispered, my hand automatically going to my pendant. "They know I'm here."

"We don't know that for certain," Uncle Mateo cautioned. "But we can't take chances. If Thomas managed to infiltrate my security, there could be others."

Maison's posture shifted subtly, his Alpha heir training taking over. "I'll coordinate with Jackson. We'll double the border patrols and implement the emergency protocols."

Uncle Mateo nodded. "Good. And Daisy needs to be moved to the inner sanctum until we can arrange secure transport to the Conclave."

"Wait," I protested. "I haven't agreed to go to this Conclave thing yet."

Both men turned to look at me with identical expressions of surprise.

"You don't understand," Uncle Mateo said carefully. "This isn't optional anymore. The Silver Stone pack is mobilising. If they're willing to test Alpha Logan's borders, they're desperate to find you."

"All the more reason for me to leave," I argued. "I could disappear again, start over somewhere new."

Maison shook his head. "Running isn't an option this time. Marc won't stop hunting you, and now that he knows you're alive, he'll never give up."

"He doesn't know for sure," I insisted.

"He knows enough," Uncle Mateo countered. "Thomas's disappearance will confirm his suspicions. We've lost the advantage of secrecy."

I turned away, gripping the railing so tightly my knuckles turned white. "So what, I'm just supposed to walk into this Conclave and announce, 'Hey everyone, the long-lost Graystone princess is back'? Might as well paint a target on my back."

"No," Maison said firmly. "You'll enter as my guest, under Logan's pack protection. No one will know your true identity until we're ready to reveal it."

I spun around. "Your guest? What does that even mean?"

A faint flush crept up Maison's neck. "It means we'll pretend to be... courting. It's common for unmated wolves to bring potential interests to the Conclave."

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered. "You can barely stand to be in the same room as me most days."

"That was before," he said stiffly.

"Before you knew I was royal?" I challenged, anger flaring. "Suddenly, I'm worth your time now that there's a crown involved?"

Maison's eyes flashed dangerously. "Before I understood why my wolf reacted to you like he was. He's the reason I want you after the attack; he's the one who told me that you were in danger.”

"And what does your wolf say now?" I asked, stepping closer despite myself.

Something flickered in Maison's eyes—uncertainty, perhaps, or vulnerability I'd never seen before. "He says we should protect you. That it's important. More important than pack politics or ancient grudges."

Uncle Mateo cleared his throat. "I'll give you two a moment," he said, though his expression was wary as he retreated inside.

When the door closed, I exhaled slowly. "This is insane. All of it. Yesterday, I was worried about making rent and covering my shift. Now I'm supposedly a queen, and you're offering to fake-date me to smuggle me into a werewolf convention."

Maison's lips twitched. "When you put it that way, it does sound ridiculous."

"Because it is!" I threw my hands up. "And what happens if I do find my mate at this Conclave? Won't that blow your cover story?"

"That would be the ideal outcome," he said simply. "A mated queen is stronger than an unmated one. The Silver Stone pack would think twice about challenging you."

I studied his face, searching for any hint of deception. "Why are you doing this, Maison? Really?"

He was quiet for so long, I thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reluctant. "My father made a blood oath to protect the Graystone line. That oath passes to me as his heir."

"So it's duty," I said, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment.

"Partly," he admitted. "But it's also..." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "Nightshade has been drawn to you for years. I fought it because I didn't understand it. I thought he sensed a threat, but now I wonder if he was trying to protect you all along."

A distant howl cut through the evening air, followed by another, then several more. Maison tensed, moving to the edge of the balcony.

"Border patrol," he said grimly. "Something's happening."

The door burst open again, this time revealing Jackson, Maison's twin. Unlike his brother's controlled demeanor, Jackson radiated barely contained energy, his eyes wild with urgency.

"Marc Stone has crossed into neutral territory with fifty warriors," he announced without preamble. "He's requesting an audience with Father."

Maison's expression hardened. "When?"

"Now. They're at the outer gates."

My blood turned to ice. "He knows," I whispered. "Thomas must have gotten a message out before—"

"No," Jackson interrupted, his eyes finding mine with startling intensity. "He's claiming one of our rogues attacked his border patrol. He's demanding reparations."

Maison and I exchanged glances. A cover story—and a weak one at that.

"He wants to see inside our territory," Jackson looked straight at me but for once his eyes weren’t cold, but almost warm.

"He wants to get a look at you," Maison growled, moving closer to me instinctively. "To confirm his suspicions."

"How would he even recognise me?" I asked. "I was what, five years old when my family was killed?"

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "The Graystone features are... distinctive. And the pendant—" He nodded toward my chest where the wolf pendant still glowed faintly beneath my shirt. "That would be confirmation enough."

"We need to hide you," Maison said decisively. "The inner sanctum, now."

"No," I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "That's exactly what he'd expect."

Both twins stared at me.

"If Marc Stone is at your gates demanding entrance, hiding me will only confirm his suspicions. He'll know I'm here, and he'll have reason to challenge your pack for harbouring me."

"What are you suggesting?" Jackson asked, a new note of respect in his voice.

I took a deep breath, and Star suddenly became calm and focused within me. "I'll hide in plain sight. Put me in the kitchens, or with the pack medics. Somewhere I'd naturally be if I were just an ordinary member of the pack."

"The kitchens," Maison agreed after a moment. "You already work in food service, and it's the last place he'd expect to find a Graystone heir."

"What about the pendant?" Jackson pointed out. "It's glowing."

I slipped the chain over my head, feeling strangely bereft as I did so. "Uncle Mateo can keep it safe until Marc leaves."

"No," Maison said sharply. "The pendant is your birthright and your protection. It stays with you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather cord with a small pouch attached. "Put it in here. It's lined with moonstone—it will mask the glow."

I raised an eyebrow. "You just happen to have a magic-dampening pouch in your pocket?"

"I'm the Alpha heir," he replied with a hint of a smile. "I come prepared for everything."

As I slipped the pendant into the pouch, the balcony door opened once more, revealing Alpha Logan and Luna Mara.

"Marc Stone is at our gates," Alpha Logan said tersely. "With an impressive show of force for a supposedly peaceful visit."

"We know," I said. "And I have a plan."

Alpha Logan's eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded for me to continue.

I explained my idea quickly, watching his expression shift from skepticism to consideration.

"It could work," he admitted. "But it's risky. If he recognises you—"

"He won't," I said with more confidence than I felt. "I'll be just another pack member. Nothing special, nothing worth noticing."

Luna Mara's eyes gleamed with approval.

"But we need to prepare you," Luna Mara said, stepping forward. She beckoned to a young woman who'd appeared silently in the doorway. "Eliza, bring me the service uniforms from the kitchen staff."

Thirty minutes later, I barely recognised myself in the mirror. My hair was pulled back in a severe bun, covered with a hairnet. The plain beige uniform hung loosely on my frame, deliberately a size too large to disguise my figure. Luna Mara had applied a paste of herbs to my skin that subtly altered my scent—not enough to be suspicious, but enough to blur the distinctive Graystone markers.

"Remember," Luna Mara instructed as she powdered my face to dull its natural glow, "keep your eyes down. The Graystone eyes are their most recognisable feature."

I nodded, practising the demure posture of a low-ranking pack member. Star was unusually quiet within me, as if she too understood the gravity of our deception.

"One last thing," Maison said, approaching with a small vial. "This will temporarily suppress your royal aura. It won't harm you, but it might make you feel... diminished for a few hours."

I took the vial without hesitation and downed its contents. The effect was immediate, like a warm blanket being thrown over Star, muffling her presence within me. I gasped at the sensation.

"I feel... ordinary," I whispered.

"You could never be ordinary," Jackson muttered, so quietly I almost missed it.

A horn sounded from the main gates. Our time was up.

"Ready?" Alpha Logan asked, his eyes meeting mine with quiet concern.

I straightened my shoulders beneath the baggy uniform. "As I'll ever be."

Alpha Logan led our small procession through the pack house to the great hall where visitors were received. I fell in with a group of kitchen staff, my head bowed appropriately, just another servant preparing for unexpected guests.

The massive oak doors swung open, and Marc Stone entered with an entourage of six warriors. Even if I hadn't known who he was, his bearing would have marked him as an Alpha—confident to the point of arrogance, his gaze sweeping the room as if assessing its value.

He was handsome in a cold, sharp way—pale blond hair cropped short, features that might have been sculpted from marble. His eyes were the palest blue I'd ever seen, like ice over deep water.

"Alpha Logan," he greeted, his voice carrying easily across the hall. "Thank you for receiving me on such short notice."

"Alpha Stone," Logan returned evenly. "Your message mentioned a border incident?"

I kept my eyes lowered, focusing on arranging goblets on a serving tray as I had been instructed. Around me, the other kitchen staff moved with practised efficiency, setting out refreshments for the unexpected guests.

"One of your rogues attacked my patrol," Marc said, his tone casual but eyes watchful. "Killed two of my best men before we subdued him."

Alpha Logan's expression remained impassive. "And you travelled with fifty warriors because of one rogue?"

Marc's smile didn't reach his eyes. "These are dangerous times, Alpha Logan. The rogues grow bolder each month. We found evidence suggesting this one might have companions... hiding in allied territories."

I felt his gaze sweep the room, lingering briefly on each server, each guard. I focused intently on polishing a goblet that was already spotless, careful not to make eye contact.

"You're welcome to file a formal complaint with the Council," Alpha Logan said smoothly. "But I fail to see why this required an immediate audience."

Marc stepped further into the hall, his warriors fanning out behind him. "The rogue had interesting things to say before he died. He claimed to have seen the impossible—a Graystone heir, alive and well, living under your protection."

The room went utterly still. Even the most disciplined pack members couldn't hide their surprise at such a direct accusation.

I kept polishing, breathing evenly through my nose.

Alpha Logan laughed, the sound genuine enough to make me glance up despite myself. "The Graystones died fifteen years ago, Marc. Your father saw to that personally, as I recall."

Marc's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "A regrettable necessity after their betrayal."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Luna Mara's voice cut through the tension, cool and precise as a blade. She entered from a side door, her silver-streaked hair catching the light. "Fascinating how history rewrites itself."

Marc bowed, a gesture somehow both respectful and mocking. "Luna Mara. Always a pleasure."

"I wish I could say the same," she replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Tea, Alpha Stone? Or perhaps something stronger after your journey?"

She gestured to where I stood with the serving tray. My heart hammered against my ribs as Marc's ice-blue gaze settled on me.

"Tea would be welcome," he said, studying me with mild curiosity.

I approached with measured steps, eyes downcast as I'd been instructed. The tray trembled slightly in my hands.

"Nervous little thing, isn't she?" Marc commented as I set the tray down on the table beside him.

"New to service," Luna Mara said dismissively. "Still learning our ways."

I bobbed a clumsy curtsy and retreated, feeling Marc's eyes follow me. Star stirred restlessly within me, suppressed but not entirely subdued by the potion.

"Now," Alpha Logan said, reclaiming Marc's attention, "about these accusations—"

"Not accusations," Marc corrected smoothly. "Inquiries. If by some miracle a Graystone heir survived, that individual would be my betrothed by right of the original agreement between our families," Marc finished, his gaze sweeping the room once more. "A matter of honour and tradition."

I nearly dropped the empty tray I was carrying. Even with my limited knowledge of werewolf politics, the implications were clear—he was publicly staking his claim.

Alpha Logan's expression remained impassive, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. "An agreement made under duress and never formalised. But this is all academic, Marc. The Graystone’s are gone."

"Perhaps," Marc conceded with a thin smile. "Though rumours persist. Fascinating ones, about a young female with distinctive eyes, sheltered by your pack." His gaze drifted toward me again, lingering uncomfortably. "I wonder..."

Maison stepped forward, positioning himself subtly between Marc's line of sight and me. "If you're questioning my father's word, Alpha Stone, perhaps we should discuss this matter more... privately."

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. Marc's warriors tensed, hands drifting toward concealed weapons.

"Your son is spirited, Alpha Logan," Marc observed coolly. "Though perhaps lacking in diplomatic finesse."

"My son speaks for our pack," Alpha Logan replied. "And we have nothing to hide. You're welcome to inspect our territory—within reason—if it will put these rumours to rest."

My stomach dropped. This wasn't part of the plan. Alpha Logan was inviting Marc to look around—to look for me.

Luna Mara's expression betrayed nothing, but I caught the slight tightening of her fingers around her teacup. This was a calculated risk.

"How generous," Marc said, his eyes glittering with triumph. "I accept."

He turned suddenly, his gaze landing on me once more. "You. Server. What's your name?"

Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I forced myself to curtsy again, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. "Daisy, sir. Daisy Thompson."

"Look at me when I address you," he commanded.

I raised my eyes slowly, careful to appear timid rather than defiant. Marc studied my face with uncomfortable intensity.

"Unusual eyes," he murmured. "For a kitchen servant."

"My mother was from the eastern territories," I replied, the practised lie falling easily from my lips. "I'm told I have her eyes."

Marc stepped closer, inhaling deeply. I fought the urge to step back, to run, to shift and tear out his throat for what he'd done to my family.

"You smell... familiar," he said softly.

"She works in our kitchens, Alpha Stone," Jackson interjected, appearing suddenly at my side. "The scent of herbs and spices clings to everyone who works there. Perhaps that's what you're detecting."

Marc's eyes narrowed, flicking between Jackson and me. "Perhaps."

He stepped back, and I could breathe again.

"Well then," Marc said, his tone deceptively light as he turned back to Alpha Logan. "Shall we begin this inspection? I'm particularly interested in seeing your eastern border defences."

Alpha Logan inclined his head. "Of course. Maison, Jackson—accompany our guests."

I caught the silent message in Alpha Logan's eyes as he glanced at his sons. Keep Marc away from the pack house. Away from me.

"Perhaps Luna Mara could give me a tour of your renowned healing facilities first," Marc suggested, his gaze sliding back to me. "I've heard much about your herbal innovations. And your staff could serve refreshments while we walk."

My pulse quickened. He was trying to separate us, to keep me close.

Luna Mara's smile was glacial. "Our healing facilities are currently under renovation. Most unfortunate timing. Perhaps next visit."

"Then your kitchen server can attend me during the border inspection," Marc said, his tone making it clear this wasn't a request. "I find her... refreshingly attentive."

The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees. Maison's jaw clenched so hard I could hear his teeth grinding.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Luna Mara replied smoothly. "Daisy is needed for preparations for tonight's pack dinner."

Marc's eyes hardened. "Surely you can spare one servant, Luna Mara."

Before anyone could respond, a commotion erupted at the main entrance. Uncle Mateo burst in, his usually impeccable appearance dishevelled, breathing hard as if he'd been running.

"Alpha Logan!" he called, his voice carrying an edge of panic that I knew instantly was feigned. "Forgive the interruption, but there's an emergency at the north perimeter. The rogue pack has returned—they've breached the outer defences!"

The perfect distraction. Marc's warriors immediately tensed, hands reaching for weapons.

Alpha Logan rose to his full height, authority radiating from him. "Marc, I must ask you to postpone your inspection. Pack security takes precedence."

Marc's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How convenient, Alpha Logan."

"Feel free to assist us in defending our territory," Jackson offered with a predatory smile. "Since you brought so many warriors for a simple diplomatic visit."