Three

The morning after eavesdropping on Lady Celeste, I was summoned to the palace's private medical wing.

The air smelled strongly of crushed moon-herbs and antiseptic. Dr. Elias, an elderly man with kind, silver eyes and the refined robes of a senior supernatural healer, adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles as he reviewed my blood samples.

Cassian stood near the reinforced glass door, his arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. He hadn't spoken a word since leading me out of the conservatory last night, but his presence was a heavy, suffocating shield between me and the rest of the palace.

"Remarkable," Dr. Elias muttered, his fingers hovering over a glowing crystalline lens that analyzed my DNA. "Simply remarkable."

"Is something wrong with the surrogate, Elias?" Cassian asked, his voice low and sharp. "Is she ill?"

"Ill? No, Your Majesty. She is in extraordinary health," Dr. Elias said, turning to look at me with a profound, almost reverent awe. "However, Miss Hart’s blood contains something I have not seen in over three centuries. Look at the cellular luminesce."

Cassian walked over to the desk, peering down at the glass slides. The moment he leaned close to me, my wolf stirred again, humming like a plucked harp string.

"Explain," Cassian commanded.

"Miss Hart carries an ancient, dormant genetic marker," Dr. Elias said softly, gesturing toward the screen where my blood cells glowed with a distinct silver aura. "This is not outer-territory blood. It is the purest ancestral strain in the realm the marker of the First Moon Queen."

Silence crashed over the room.

I blinked, taking a step back. "That’s impossible. My family are common border wolves. We’ve lived on the edge of the territory for generations."

"Genetic markers of that caliber can lay dormant for centuries, hidden under quiet bloodlines until triggered," Dr. Elias explained, his tone deadly serious. "Miss Hart, you are no ordinary wolf. If you conceive a child, that child will not merely inherit royal blood it will carry the primordial power of the original ruling house."

Cassian turned his head slowly to look at me. His icy blue eyes were searching, fierce, and troubled. "Does anyone else know about this, Elias?"

"No one, sire. I ran the diagnostic myself under your private clearance."

"Keep it that way," Cassian ordered, his voice dropping into a harsh register that left no room for argument. "If Lady Celeste or the royal council discovers what she carries, they will not just try to sabotage the pregnancy. They will execute her to destroy the line."

Dr. Elias bowed deeply. "My lips are sealed, Your Majesty."

The revelation left my head spinning. I left the medical wing with Cassian walking half a step ahead of me, his heavy boots clicking rhythmically against the pristine floor.

"Cassian," I called out, breaking his strict rule about formal titles.

He stopped instantly, turning to face me in an empty, high-arched gallery lined with historic portraits of the kingdom's past rulers.

"You shouldn't use my name so casually," he warned, though there was no real bite in his tone.

"My blood line isn't an accident," I said, my chest heaving. "My mother... she never talked about her youth before she moved to the border pack. But I remember her telling me she served in the Citadel when she was young. She left suddenly before I was born."

Cassian frowned, stepping closer. "Served in what capacity?"

"I don't know. She died when I was ten." I turned away, my gaze sweeping across the massive, dusty oil paintings hanging along the marble walls.

The gallery was filled with depictions of ancient kings, legendary warriors, and the dark-haired queens of old. As my eyes roamed over the massive frames, my breath caught in my throat.

I froze in front of a grand portrait at the far end of the hall.

It depicted the First Moon King standing proudly atop the cliffs of Silvermoon. Beside him stood his Queen, dressed in robes of silver and sapphire, holding a royal scepter.

I stepped closer, my hand trembling as I reached out toward the canvas.

The woman in the three-hundred-year-old painting had my dark, wavy hair. She had my high cheekbones, my straight nose, and the exact almond shape of my eyes. Looking at her was like looking into a painted mirror.

"Lilian?" Cassian's voice sounded right behind me. He had followed my gaze up to the portrait.

I heard him draw in a sharp, harsh breath.

"It's me," I whispered, horror and fascination twining in my stomach. "Cassian... that's my face.”