My mother's chambers smelled like lavender, blood, and lies.
Heavy curtains kept the light out. The room was too warm, like they were trying to trick death into staying outside.
I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for a second.
Just a second.
Then I walked forward.
Queen Elowen Valewyn — once the most feared she-wolf in three territories — lay against silk pillows that swallowed her frame. Her silver-blonde hair spilled across the bedding, thinner now. Her skin had gone pale in a way that wasn't natural.
Not sick.
Drained.
I hated it.
"Close your mouth, Seraphina," she murmured without opening her eyes. "You look like someone just pissed in your wine."
I blinked.
Then I huffed a laugh despite myself.
"There she is," I muttered. "I was starting to think they replaced you with a polite ghost."
Her eyes opened slowly.
Still sharp.
Still wolf-bright.
"You're leaving tonight."
Not a question.
"Yeah," I said flatly. "Apparently I've been sold. Very exclusive. Limited-time offer."
Her lips twitched faintly.
"Your father believes he's protecting you."
I snorted. "By throwing me at a lycan king who bathes in war?"
"He would not send you if he thought you would break."
I crossed my arms. "Oh good. So this is a confidence exercise."
Her gaze sharpened.
"You are not fragile."
"I'm aware."
"No," she said, more forcefully. "You are not fragile, Seraphina. You are dangerous."
The word lingered in the air.
I stepped closer to the bed.
The closer I got, the more I felt it — that hollow pull inside her chest. Like something had been siphoned out of her over time.
Not illness.
Extraction.
"Mother," I said quietly. "What did he do?"
Her fingers twitched against the sheets.
"Your father made a choice," she said. "A long time ago."
"That sounds suspiciously vague."
She gave me a look.
"Watch your mouth."
"I will when he stops making bullshit decisions."
Her breath hitched faintly — half laugh, half cough.
I knelt beside her bed.
The seal on my wrist pulsed again.
This time, she noticed.
Her eyes flicked down to it.
"It's weakening," she whispered.
"I know."
"You felt the murder."
Of course she knew that too.
"I saw something," I admitted. "A shadow. A crown of thorns."
Her jaw tightened.
"The Blood Moon approaches."
"That again," I muttered. "Everyone keeps saying that like it's romantic. It's not. It sounds like a cult meeting."
She ignored that.
"Ester is bound to moon cycles," she said quietly.
I stiffened.
We never said that word loudly.
Ester.
Ancient blood.
Old magic.
Forbidden inheritance.
"It isn't just power," she continued. "It is memory. It is command. It is life-thread."
I swallowed.
"Explain it like I'm not already overwhelmed."
Her fingers reached for my wrist.
When she touched the seal, heat exploded under my skin.
But instead of fighting it —
She let it rise.
The air thickened.
The candles bent toward me like they were bowing.
"You can read what lingers," she whispered. "Blood remembers. Stone remembers. Wolves remember."
Images flickered in my mind — flashes of battles I never fought, oaths I never swore.
"You can pull energy from what has been spilled," she continued. "You can bind. You can heal. You can break."
The word break echoed.
"And under a Blood Moon," she said, voice barely audible, "you can command."
I pulled my wrist back slowly.
"So basically I'm a walking fucking catastrophe."
Her gaze held mine.
"Yes."
Silence settled between us.
I let out a slow breath.
"Why seal it?"
"Because kings don't raise daughters like you," she said softly. "They weaponize them."
I stared at her.
"He knows," I said.
"Yes."
"And he still sent me."
"Yes."
Anger flared sharp and hot.
"That fucking—"
"Seraphina."
I clenched my jaw.
"He believes you will survive Darian Varkholme."
"Because I'm stronger than he is?"
"No," she said quietly. "Because you are not prey."
Something inside me stilled.
"You've seen him?" I asked.
Her eyes darkened faintly.
"Once."
"And?"
"He is not cruel for sport. He is cruel for purpose."
Great.
That's worse.
I stood and paced the room once.
"So I marry a lycan king who can't have children," I muttered. "For two years. While murders start happening inside our own palace. And Father pretends this is diplomacy."
"It is not diplomacy," she said.
I froze.
"It is positioning."
My eyes snapped to her.
"For what?"
Her lips parted —
Then pain seized her.
Her back arched slightly as a tremor ran through her body.
I moved instantly.
"Easy," I said sharply, grabbing her shoulders.
Heat pulsed through my palms instinctively.
Without thinking, I let it flow.
Not too much.
Just enough.
The warmth that moved through me wasn't normal wolf energy.
It was deeper.
Threaded.
Golden beneath the surface.
It slid into her like breath filling empty lungs.
Her trembling eased.
The gray tint in her skin softened slightly.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"You see?" she whispered faintly.
I stepped back quickly.
"Don't," I said.
"You can siphon," she said. "You can restore."
"For how long?" I snapped. "Because if I fix you, he'll just drain you again for whatever twisted strategy he's running."
She didn't deny it.
That told me everything.
"You are not being sold because you are weak," she said firmly. "You are being sent because you are strong enough to survive what is coming."
"And what the hell is coming?"
Her eyes filled with something I'd never seen before.
Fear.
"The Blood Moon will not just take one king," she said.
The words settled like ice in my veins.
"You think he plans to kill Darian," I said slowly.
"No," she whispered.
She reached for my face, fingers brushing my cheek.
"I think he plans to end a bloodline."
A chill slid down my spine.
"And what does that make me?" I asked.
Her gaze softened.
"A survivor."
I leaned my forehead gently against hers.
For a second — just a second — I let myself be her daughter.
Not a weapon.
Not a pawn.
Just hers.
"I won't break," I whispered.
"I know."
"I won't let him use me."
"I know."
"And if that lycan bastard tries anything—"
Her lips twitched faintly.
"You will handle it."
I pulled back, wiping at my eyes before tears could actually form.
"Damn right."
A knock sounded at the chamber doors.
Time.
Of course.
It always comes too fast when you're about to lose something.
I stood.
Straightened.
Let the sarcasm armor slide back into place.
"Guess I'm off to charm the enemy," I muttered.
"Seraphina."
I paused at the door.
"You are more than his contract," she said softly. "And more than your father's game."
I gave her a crooked smile.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm the fucking problem."
And for the first time since the throne room —
She smiled fully.
As I stepped into the corridor, the seal on my wrist pulsed again.
Stronger.
Hungrier.
The howling outside rose with the wind.
Two years.
Blood Moon.
A lycan king.
And a game far older than I'd been told.
Good.
Let it come.
They thought they were sending me away.
What they didn't realize—
Was that I was walking into it armed.