MasukThe air inside the subterranean vault was thick with the suffocating stench of copper and sweat. Ethan held the lantern high, its flickering amber flame cutting through the pitch-black darkness to reveal the aftermath of our counter-strike.The mechanism of the trap had been triggered.A soldier clad in the dark leather of the Northern Guard had slumped lifelessly against the base of the marble pedestal. His eyes were wide with a glazed, frozen terror, his limbs completely locked in place by the silver-infused toxin of our trap. But as my eyes scanned the scene, a cold dread knotted in my stomach.The artifact’s replica was gone."Look," Ethan whispered, his deep voice slicing through the tomb-like silence as he lowered the lantern to the stone floor.A thick, dark trail of blood smeared across the dust, leading away from the pedestal and disappearing straight into the shadows of the deeper catacombs. The snare had snapped tight, but the thief hadn't been alone."The toxin paralyzed t
By mid-morning, the Lycan Citadel had transformed into a beautiful nightmare of chaotic opulence. The grand halls buzzed with the frantic energy of a hundred servants dragging heavy velvet banners, polishing the crystal chandeliers, and arranging overflowing baskets of winter lilies. But beneath the bright, festive surface, the air was thick with a quiet desperation."Stand perfectly still, please, Your Grace," the head dressmaker murmured, her trembling hands fumbling with a strip of measuring silk.I stood elevated on the mahogany pedestal in the center of the royal solar, draped in yards of unspun white satin that cascaded around my feet. I kept my chin held high, my posture projecting the absolute serenity expected of a future queen. Yet, as the dressmaker pinned the fabric around the distinct, beautifully round swell of my stomach, my silver eyes never stopped scanning the room. My heightened senses were locked onto every shadow, every heartbeat, and every whisper echoing down t
The first light of dawn bled through the shattered window pane, casting cold, fractured shadows across the mahogany desk. Beside the pool of gray light, the arrow sat like a corpse on display.I stood over it, the heavy silk of my nightgown offering little protection against the morning chill as Ethan ran a calloused thumb along the shaft."The fletching is made from the feathers of a northern tundra hawk," Ethan muttered, his jaw tightening as he looked up at me. "This wasn't shot by a random rogue, Aria. This arrow belongs to the personal armory of the Northern Border Guard."I stepped closer, the cold stone floor biting into the soles of my bare feet as I reached out to take the weapon from Ethan's grip. The iron tip felt unnaturally heavy, the metal had been built for lethal penetration rather than show.Turning the shaft over in my fingers, I focused on the base of the hawk feather fletching. There, etched directly into the dark wood, was a faint, pressed mark, the double-crescen
I stood still by the velvet-draped windows of the room, watching Ethan as he removed the arrow lodged in the bedpost. The initial joy of our reunion had instantly vanished from his features, replaced by a terrifying stillness. He was completely lost in thought, his face pale under the dim candlelight of the room as he stared down at the small parchment paper in his hands, his knuckles turning entirely white around the edges of the red ribbon. The room was thick with a sudden, suffocating dread, and the absolute silence felt like a physical weight pressing against my chest."Ethan?" My voice cut through the silence, cracking with a sharp wave of anxiety.Ethan flinched slightly, his rugged jaw tightening into a rigid line as he quickly tried to hide the crumpled paper in his hands. I walked over to him from the stone hearth. I looked at the shattered glass scattered across the rugs, and then my gaze locked onto the arrow hole split into the mahogany bedpost."What happened?" I asked qu
The heavy oak doors of the grand council chamber slammed shut behind the guards, cutting off the final, desperate wails of the scoundrels, Isolde and Julian, as they were violently dragged out into the freezing wilderness. Ragged, desperate breaths racked my chest, torching my lungs as a wave of pure panic gripped me.What if this is all a dream and she isn't really here? What if I blink twice, and the magic snaps back, and the memories of Aria evaporates into the thin midnight air?Cold sweat broke out across my neck. If the memory erase poison had permanently re-wired my mind, my memory could fail me again. A sudden surge of panic and longing drove me into a full, uncoordinated sprint down the citadel's grand stone corridors. I ignored the guards bowing in reverence as I flew past. Bounding up the spiral staircase two steps at a time, my heavy leather boots beat against the stone like cannon fire as I raced toward my master bedroom suite to see Aria.For three long, torturous weeks
The silence that followed the kiss was deafening. Time seemed to stop. I pulled back slowly, breath shallow, searching his eyes for any sign that the spell had broken. The frantic hammering in my chest died instantly, replaced by a cold, paralyzing dread. His striking amber eyes remained flat, blank, and devoid of light. There wasn't a single spark of warmth, nor a flash of recognition across his vacant features.Oh my gods, it didn’t work. The voice screamed inside my head, frantic and wild, as my chest tightened in agonizing panic. The antidote failed. The true love's kiss failed. He doesn't know who I am.Dread froze the air in my lungs. I was trapped in a restricted royal wing with my mate who no longer recognizes me. If the curse had rewired his mind, my presence here would be considered trespassing. Ethan would summon his executioners without a second thought, offering my head on a silver platter as a wedding gift to Isolde.Desperate to protect my unborn children, I scramble
The room he chose was my father's private study.Which was not his room. Which was not his packhouse, his territory, or his anything. He walked into it anyway, with the unhurried certainty of a man who understood that ownership was largely a matter of perspective, and held the door open for me with
The heavy oak doors of the packhouse library slammed shut, cutting off the deafening roar of the crowd outside. But the silence inside this room was far more dangerous."What do you think you are doing, Aria?" My father’s voice vibrated with a terrifying, low growl. His eyes, usually a calm brown,
The amber in his eyes lasted only a fleeting moment. Then Ethan Voss straightened to his full, imposing height, and the careful, controlled mask of a king settled back over his features like armor clicking into place. He turned from me to address the frozen room with the same unhurried authority he
I stood at that window for exactly sixty seconds after his gaze released me. Then I turned away from the glass, walked to my bedroom door, and locked it. The soft click of the bolt was the most powerful sound I had made in twenty-one years.I crossed to the bed where the white dress was already lai







