The room was too quiet.
Not the quiet of peace, but the kind that settled before blood was spilled.
Seraphina opened her eyes.
Silk sheets wrapped her limbs, smooth and foreign against her skin. A cruel contrast to the chains that had bound her only hours ago. She lay on a bed large enough to swallow her whole.
Above her, a canopy threaded with silver caught the low light. The mattress beneath her was thick, indulgent.
Yet her chest felt tight.
She was not free.
Slowly, she pushed herself upright.
Pain bloomed everywhere, dull and deep, but her wrists—bandaged now—throbbed less. Her wounds had been cleaned. The air carried the faint scent of wild herbs.
Lavender.
Mint.
Sage.
Beyond the crystal-paned doors stood guards.
Armored.
Still.
Watching.
Two.
No—three.
Their faces were hidden behind black helms. They did not speak. They did not move.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
Warm stone met her bare feet.
The floor beneath glowed faintly, lit from within.
Footsteps echoed.
Seraphina spun, heart hammering.
At the doorway stood a young woman, no older than eighteen, holding a tray. Seraphina's gaze dropped instantly to the palace crest stitched into the girl's shoulder.
A servant.
"You're awake," the girl whispered.
"Where am I?" Seraphina croaked. Her voice scraped like sandpaper.
The girl flinched. "The northern chamber of the King. The wing of the former Queen."
Seraphina swallowed.
"Why?"
The girl set the tray down carefully. Broth. Fruit. A folded towel.
"They said you would be kept safe," she said softly. "But also… not allowed to leave."
"Caged like a prisoner," Seraphina said, "or protected like a guest?"
The girl hesitated.
That answer was enough.
"What's your name?" Seraphina asked.
"Isolde."
"Do they all want me dead, Isolde?"
Isolde glanced over her shoulder, then leaned in, barely breathing.
"Yes."
Seraphina didn't flinch.
She had expected nothing less.
"And the King?" she asked.
Isolde's expression shifted—confusion, reverence, fear.
"He ordered your wounds treated. Personally."
Seraphina blinked.
"He was here?"
"He stayed all night," Isolde whispered. "Didn't speak. Just watched. He left before sunrise."
Seraphina's fingers clenched in the sheets.
Why would Kael Draven, Lycan King, sit beside a broken omega through the night?
Guilt?
Curiosity?
Something darker?
"He hasn't spoken to anyone since," Isolde added. "But Astrid has."
The name coiled like a snake.
"What did she say?"
Isolde swallowed. "That you're a curse. That everything will burn if you stay."
Seraphina laughed.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't kind.
It was the laugh of someone who had survived too much to care.
"Maybe she's right."
A knock sounded.
Not from the main door.
From the far wall.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Wrong.
Isolde went pale.
"No one should be coming," she whispered. "Someone lied."
Seraphina grabbed her arm. "Leave. Now. Come back in the morning."
"Now," she repeated.
Isolde ran.
Seraphina moved fast, despite the pain.
In the corner of the tray's base, concealed beneath carved fruit, she found a small ornamental blade.
She took it.
Another knock—louder.
Then silence.
She slowed her breathing, listening.
Footsteps.
Light.
Unarmed.
A lie.
The curtain near the window alcove stirred.
She turned.
A figure lunged.
A hand slammed into her shoulder, smashing her against the wall. Her blade struck nothing but air.
She kicked hard.
The attacker staggered.
Steel flashed.
She cut skin, slashing upward.
A hiss.
Claws followed.
She dodged—too slow.
Pain ripped down her forearm.
Blood spilled.
She crashed into a marble column.
He moved like a Lycan.
Not a guard.
Not a soldier.
A killer.
He lunged again.
Seraphina rolled, stone scraping her back. Her fingers caught the cloth from the tray. She hurled it at his face.
Just enough.
Her blade drove into his thigh.
He screamed.
From the corridor came a shout. "All hands! The inmate is under attack!"
Steel rang.
The door burst open.
The assassin tried to flee.
A spear flew.
Blood sprayed as he fell mid-turn.
Another guard rushed in, breathless. "He was one of ours. A kitchen courier."
"Not anymore," the captain snarled.
Seraphina stood despite the tremor in her legs. Blood poured from her arm.
The fallen man stared at her.
No rage.
No madness.
Only fear.
"Tell your King," she said evenly. "Someone tried to kill his ward. And I don't intend to die quietly."
They nodded.
Footsteps thundered away.
She exhaled.
She was not prey anymore.
She had teeth.
"Are you conscious, inmate?"
The voice slid through the chamber like silk over steel.
Seraphina stiffened.
Moonlight dimmed as clouds swallowed the sky.
"Don't scream," the voice whispered. "It will only make it worse."
Her heart thundered.
She turned slowly.
A shadow shifted in the corner.
"What do you want?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "King Kael is protecting me."
A low chuckle.
"Protection? From him? Or from yourselves?"
The figure stepped forward.
Grey cloak. Hood pulled low. A blade turning lazily in his fingers.
"You're an omega," he said. "You don't belong here. The order is unbalanced by you."
She edged around the bed.
"I don't know who I am."
"That's the problem," he whispered.
"You don't have to do this," she said. "Leave. No one will know."
He tilted his head.
"This isn't personal. It's order. You're a spark near dry parchment."
She backed away.
"Then tell Kael. Tell the council. Don't crawl through shadows like a coward."
"I didn't come to speak."
He lunged.
Something inside her snapped.
Power tore free.
A surge erupted from her chest.
Her palm struck the air.
The force slammed into him mid-lunge, throwing him across the room.
He hit the wall with a sickening crack.
The room smelled of burned leather.
Seraphina stood frozen, arms raised, breath ragged.
The assassin groaned.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
"Moonborn," he gasped.
Her stomach dropped.
"What did you call me?"
He grinned, teeth red. "He'll kill you for that. Or worse. Claim you."
The doors exploded open.
Kael Draven stormed in, coat flaring, guards at his heels.
His gaze snapped from her to the assassin.
"What happened?"
"He attacked me," Seraphina said. "Said I was ordered dead. I reacted."
The assassin coughed blood. "She used power."
Kael's voice dropped to ice. "Seize him."
The man spat. "She's a weapon."
"And weapons aren't kept sheathed," Kael replied, advancing.
He stopped before Seraphina.
"Did you touch him?" he asked quietly.
"He came at me."
"I didn't ask that."
She inhaled. "Yes. I used something. I didn't mean to."
Kael lifted a hand.
She flinched.
Instead, he touched her chin, lifting her face.
Warm.
Too warm.
"You awakened an old force," he said. "Even royalty fears it."
"Who am I?" she whispered.
His eyes glimmered.
"I haven't slept in five years because of you."
"What?"
Footsteps echoed outside.
"Your Majesty," his Beta called. "The council demands your presence."
Kael didn't look away from her.
"They can wait."
She shook. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because since the last Moon Eclipse," he said softly, "I've seen your face in my dreams."
He turned to the guards.
"Secure five corridors. Anyone who disobeys bleeds."
The assassin was dragged away.
Seraphina whispered, "Moonborn… what does that mean?"
Kael paused at the door.
"It means," he said quietly, "you were never meant to be small."
Then he was gone.
Only silence remained.
And beneath her skin, the mark glowed.