Mag-log inMira slid into the empty seat beside Nicolas as though it had been saved for her all along.Her movement was smooth, deliberate. A woman claiming territory.A wide smile settled on her lips, practiced and confident, the kind that dared anyone to question her presence. She did not care that Nicolas turned to her with murder in his eyes. She did not care that his jaw tightened, that his shoulders stiffened.She had heard about the dinner earlier that evening, while passing through the servants’ corridor. The maids had been whispering as they chopped herbs and stirred pots, their voices hushed but excited. A private dinner. Prepared personally. For a princess.The words had slid into Mira’s ears and turned her blood to ice.Nicolas had not told her.He had planned to dine alone with a princess without her knowledge, without her presence, without her consent. Anger and jealousy surged inside her like a rising tide, hot and relentless, threatening to drown her reason.She had not confronte
Seraphina tossed the last dress onto the heaving pile on her bed. Her room looked like a battlefield of fabric—velvets, silks, and satins strewn across the floor in wild disarray. She sank onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, staring at the ceiling as though it might give her an answer.Why am I even worrying about this? she asked herself silently. Why am I trying so hard, when nothing will ever feel… right?A knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts. Her body stiffened.Dragging herself upright, she shuffled toward the door, each step reluctant, weighed down by exhaustion and indecision.Alexander’s face came into view the moment she opened it.“Can I come in?” His voice was calm, measured, but there was an edge she recognized—quiet authority, the kind that brooked no refusal.She hesitated. He was probably here to stop her from attending the dinner.“If this is about the dinner…” she started, crossing her arms.“It’s not,” he lied smoothly. He had come to dissuade her, yet d
Seraphina burst into the open field with Alexandra at her side, their boots cutting through blood-soaked snow. Other royals from the six kingdoms poured in behind them, drawn by the shrill cry of the palace alarm. An alarm meant for war. An alarm that tore what little sleep remained from the kingdom’s bones.Bodies lay scattered across the grounds of Arcadia, citizens twisted in unnatural angles, throats torn open, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. The metallic stench of blood hung thick in the air, clinging to skin and fur and breath. Victims of a vampire raid. Cruel. Swift. Merciless.Yet the field was eerily empty.No vampires in sight.The guards tightened their formation, weapons raised, eyes darting. The silence was wrong. Too clean. Too deliberate.King Nicolas stepped forward, his war cloak snapping softly behind him as the cold wind stirred. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, senses sharpening beyond human limits. His gaze darkened.“I think they are gone,” Princess Jace of
“What?”Nicolas’ head snapped toward her.His gaze landed on the princess.She was panting, chest heaving as though she had sprinted through the very gates of hell. Her hair clung damply to her temples, eyes blazing—wild and unguarded.“Do not hurt them!” she screamed.It was not a request. Not a plea.It was a command torn from the depths of her being, every breath thick with terror and something far older, something carved into her bones. Maternal instinct surged through her veins, raw and merciless, drowning out logic, decorum, even fear of a high-ranking king.Nicolas looked down at what he held.The two troublemakers.Moments ago, they had been wolves. Small, feral, reckless things who had dared to bare their teeth at him.Now, they had shifted.Humans.A boy and a girl.Bare skin. Small hands. Limbs soft and untested by war, claws, or fangs.They stared back at him.Pairs of eyes. One green. One blue.The arena seemed to tilt.For a single breath, his grip faltered.His heart lu
“Who is coming?” Alexander asked, his face twisted with fear and confusion.Seraphina ran a hand through her long silver hair, the strands sliding softly between her fingers. “It was just a dream. Sorry I woke you up.”Alexander’s expression softened. His hand reached for hers, warm and steady. “You don’t have to apologize, my princess. I’m here to protect you.”“Thank you,” she murmured, climbing down from the bed. Her fingers fumbled for the edge of her cloak.“You know I care about you…” Alexander’s voice suddenly cut through the quiet, making her pause mid-motion.“Of course I know you care about me,” she replied with a small, polite smile, shrugging the cloak over her shoulders.“More than a bodyguard. More than duty,” Alexander added, the words deliberate, heavy with meaning.Seraphina blinked. Her face remained carefully unreadable, though her heart thumped a chaotic rhythm against her ribs.He stepped closer, closing the space between them, and took her hands into his. “I care
“Do you mean these are all the representatives?”King Nicolas’ voice thundered through the vaulted courtroom, bouncing off marble pillars and ancient tapestries. His gaze swept across the semicircle of figures from the five kingdoms—yet one seat, the Crescentmoon seat, sat cold and empty, mocking him.“I think Crescentmoon is asking for war,” he growled, the words vibrating through the hall like a storm rolling in. “How dare they defy my order?”“Your Majesty, you need to calm down.”Mira reached for him, her fingers brushing his shoulder, but he jerked away as though her touch burned.“You! Don’t ask me to calm down!” he snapped. “You don’t know what’s at stake. Our kingdoms are in danger and—”Bang.The doors slammed open with such force the guards flinched. An entourage swept inside, their cloaks rustling like whispers of a brewing tempest.A herald’s voice boomed, “Announcing Her Royal Highness—the Princess of Crescentmoon.”The air shifted. The tension, the fear, the curiosity—th







