It happened just after midnight.
The palace was silent.
Too silent.
I was in my chamber, seated by the window, reading old Eastern texts about the prophecy the council refused to name.
The Moon Queen.
Ancient myths.
Power and judgment.
Most of it was vague.
Symbolic.
Except one line:
When the mark awakens, so too does the storm.
I traced the faint scar on my shoulder blade through the fabric of my gown.
It still glowed.
Softly.
Like moonlight trapped beneath skin.
A knock sounded at the door.
I froze.
It was late.
The palace did not allow random visitors at this hour.
"Who is it?" I asked.
Silence.
My pulse quickened.
"State your name."
Still nothing.
I rose slowly.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
I approached the door and placed my hand on the handle.
Cold.
Too cold.
I hesitated.
Then opened it.
The corridor was empty.
No guards.
No servants.
Just the faint flicker of torches in the distance.
A chill crawled down my spine.
I stepped into the hall.
"Hello?" I called softly.
No answer.
I turned left.
Empty.
Right.
Empty.
My breath tightened.
Someone was here.
I could feel it.
Watched.
I moved back toward my chamber.
That was when I saw it.
A shadow.
Not cast by the torches.
Not shaped like a man.
Something else.
It slid along the wall.
Silent.
Wrong.
I stopped.
The shadow stopped.
A heartbeat passed.
Then it lunged.
Fast.
A blur of motion.
A blade flashed in the dim light.
I reacted instinctively.
I ducked.
The knife sliced the air above me.
Close.
Too close.
I stumbled backward.
The attacker stepped into the light.
A masked figure.
Black clothing.
No insignia.
No identifying marks.
Assassin.
My stomach dropped.
They came again.
I dodged.
Barely.
The blade cut through the fabric of my sleeve.
A shallow line of pain bloomed across my arm.
Blood.
I gasped.
The assassin pressed forward.
Relentless.
Professional.
This was no common thief.
Someone had sent them.
To kill me.
I retreated into the chamber and slammed the door.
It wouldn't hold.
It burst open seconds later.
The assassin charged.
I had no weapon.
No training for this.
My heart pounded.
Think.
I grabbed the nearest object — a small decorative vase — and threw it.
It shattered against the wall.
Useless.
The assassin grabbed me.
Hard.
Pain flared as they twisted my arm.
The knife came up.
Time slowed.
This was it.
Again.
Death.
I saw the blade descending.
Felt the cold certainty of it.
No time to scream.
No time to beg.
Just—
A sudden impact.
The assassin was ripped away from me.
I stumbled backward.
Gasping.
Kael.
He moved like a storm.
One moment he was at the doorway.
The next he was on the assassin.
A blur of violence.
The assassin fought.
Professional.
Deadly.
But Kael was stronger.
Faster.
The sound of the struggle was brutal.
Bone.
Impact.
A choked gasp.
Then silence.
I pressed myself against the wall, shaking.
Kael straightened.
The assassin lay still.
Unmoving.
He looked at me.
His expression unreadable.
"Are you injured?" he asked.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
I stared at him.
Blood dripped from his hand.
Not his.
The assassin's.
My throat tightened.
"I— I'm fine."
Lie.
My arm burned where the blade had cut me.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
His gaze dropped.
The shallow wound.
Red against skin.
His jaw tightened.
"Sit."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Sit."
Command.
I hesitated.
Then obeyed.
My legs felt weak.
I lowered myself to the edge of the bed.
Kael approached.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He knelt in front of me.
The movement surprised me.
An Alpha kneeling.
He reached for my arm.
I flinched.
He paused.
"Do not move."
I swallowed.
He examined the cut.
His touch was surprisingly gentle.
The bond stirred faintly.
A distant echo.
I ignored it.
"This will need to be cleaned," he said.
I nodded.
He rose and retrieved a cloth from a nearby table.
Damp.
Clean.
He returned and began to clean the wound.
I watched him.
This was strange.
He had killed me.
He had denied everything between us.
And yet here he was.
Protecting me.
"I didn't need your help," I said quietly.
He didn't look up.
"Clearly."
I frowned.
"That's not what I meant."
Silence.
He finished cleaning the cut and wrapped it in a small bandage.
Efficient.
Professional.
He stood.
"You are not safe here."
I looked up.
"Because of the assassin."
"Because of everything."
His eyes met mine.
For a second, something flickered there.
Concern.
It vanished.
"I told you to leave the palace."
"And I told you I can protect myself."
He exhaled slowly.
"This is not a game."
I rose to my feet.
"I never said it was."
We stood close.
Too close.
The air between us felt heavy.
The mate bond pulsed faintly.
He stiffened.
I saw it.
The brief tightening of his expression.
Recognition.
Denial.
He stepped back.
"This changes nothing."
My lips parted.
"Excuse me?"
"The attack does not prove anything."
I blinked.
"Someone tried to kill me."
"Yes."
"And you saved me."
His gaze hardened.
"Duty."
The word stung.
Of course.
Duty.
Not care.
Not connection.
Just obligation.
I turned away.
"Thank you," I said stiffly.
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Stay alert."
He left.
The door closed behind him.
I exhaled shakily.
My arm throbbed.
But that wasn't what unsettled me.
It was the assassin.
Someone wanted me dead.
That much was clear.
The question was why.
Because of the prophecy?
Because of politics?
Or because of what I might become?
I touched the bandage.
Kael had tied it neatly.
Carefully.
The gesture shouldn't have mattered.
But it did.
I frowned.
No.
I refused to read meaning into it.
He had killed me.
He had chosen that.
This protection meant nothing.
Nothing at all.
Outside, the palace remained silent.
But I knew it wouldn't last.
The attack was only the beginning.
Someone had taken a first step.
And now—
So would I.