Arin's POV
The knife slipped from Arin's hands and clattered against the stone floor.
She flinched. Not because it would hurt her, but because of what came next.
"Clumsy." The head servant didn't even look up from her ledger. "That's the third plate you've broken this week."
Arin knelt to gather the pieces, her fingers moving quickly over the sharp edges. The stone was cold against her knees. The servant quarters always smelled like wet wool and something else she could never quite name. Today it smelled like disappointment too.
"Sorry," Arin whispered.
Nobody was listening.
She had lived in these quarters her whole life. Twenty-three years of stone walls and narrow windows. Twenty-three years of being the girl people forgot about the moment she left the room. Her grandmother had raised her here, whispering strange things about magic and destiny while everyone else ignored them both. Three winters ago, her grandmother died. Arin had been completely alone since then.
No family. No pack claim. No one who cared if she lived or died.
The other servants stopped what they were doing when the palace messenger arrived. He was tall and wore the black armor of the Alpha King's personal guard. His presence made the whole room feel smaller somehow.
"I'm looking for a healer," he announced.
Arin's hands went still. She was mending a torn sleeve, her stitches small and neat from years of practice. Her grandmother had taught her this too. To fix things. To make broken stuff whole again.
"The Alpha King has requested the finest healer from Silver Creek pack," the messenger continued. "Someone to attend the Summit. He wants them there by sunset tomorrow."
The room exploded into chaos.
Everyone started talking at once. The head servant stood up so fast her chair fell backward. Other girls whispered to each other, eyes bright with excitement. The Summit meant the five strongest packs gathering together. The Alpha King meant power and wealth and importance.
This meant whoever he wanted was about to become somebody.
"Who could it be?" someone asked.
"Has to be Master Ceron from the healing house," another girl said. "He's the only real healer we have."
"Or maybe Lady Helena," someone else offered. "Her family is connected to the council."
Nobody said Arin's name.
She kept stitching even as her heart beat faster. She knew what she was. A servant. Invisible. The girl who mended clothes and helped people whisper their secrets into the dark. The girl everyone forgot about.
The messenger walked to where Arin was sitting. She didn't look up. She just kept working on the sleeve, her hands moving steady even though suddenly they wanted to shake.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Arin," she said quietly. Just that. No title. No explanation.
He waited for more. When it didn't come, he pulled out a scroll and checked something. His expression changed. Something like surprise. Like he wasn't expecting to find what he was looking for in the corner where forgotten things collected.
"You're a healer," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I help when I can."
The room had gone silent. Everyone was staring at them.
The messenger looked at her straight on for the first time. Really looked at her. Not through her the way people usually did. "The Alpha King asked for the finest healer in Silver Creek pack. That's you."
The laughter started before he even finished speaking.
It came from the head servant first. Then the other girls caught it like it was something catching fire. The sound filled the stone room until Arin couldn't breathe. The laughter was harsh and mean. It was the kind that made her want to disappear into the walls.
"Arin?" one girl gasped between laughs. "Little invisible Arin?"
"The Alpha King wants her?" another shrieked. "Oh this is priceless. This is the best joke I've heard all year."
"Maybe it's a punishment," someone else said. "Maybe he's sending her to be killed."
The messenger's face went hard. He didn't say anything, but something about him changed. His hand moved to the sword at his side like he was considering using it.
Everyone stopped laughing.
"Be ready by sunset tomorrow," he said to Arin. "Pack what you need. A horse will be waiting at the gate."
He left without another word.
The silence that followed was worse than the laughter.
Arin finished the sleeve. Her stitches were still perfect even though her hands were shaking now. Muscle memory was a powerful thing. Her body knew how to keep working even when her mind wanted to fall apart.
That night, she couldn't sleep. She lay in her small room listening to the darkness and thinking about the fact that someone had asked for her. Actually asked for her by name.
The Alpha King. The most powerful man in five territories. The one who never showed weakness. The one who ruled with ice in his veins. He had asked for her.
Why?
The question kept her awake until dawn.
When morning came, she packed the old leather satchel her grandmother had left her. She filled it with healing herbs and bandages and a few bottles of remedies she made herself. She braided her silver-blonde hair the way her grandmother had taught her. She put on the same simple clothes she always wore because she had nothing else.
She looked exactly the same as she always had. Like nobody.
But something felt different inside her.
At the gate, people gathered to watch her leave. She could feel their eyes on her back. Wondering. Judging. Some of them probably hoping the Alpha King really was sending her to be killed. That would make a better story than her just disappearing.
The horse the messenger had left was beautiful and black and clearly worth more than everything she owned combined. She climbed onto its back and felt like she was sitting on something that didn't belong to her.
"Wait," a voice called out.
Arin turned in the saddle. An older servant woman she recognized from the healing house was running toward her. Master Ceron's assistant. A kind woman who had helped her gather herbs once.
"Take this," the woman said, pressing something into Arin's hand. It was a small crystal pendant on a string. "Your grandmother gave me this years ago. She told me to give it to you when you left. She said you'd know what it meant when the time came."
Arin's throat tightened. She couldn't speak.
The woman squeezed her hand and stepped back.
Arin looked down at the pendant. It was warm despite the cold morning air. And inside the crystal, something glowed faintly. A light that shouldn't exist. A light that made her skin prickle with recognition and terror.
She looked up toward the palace that waited three days' journey away. Toward the Alpha King. Toward whatever was about to change everything.
And for the first time, she understood what her grandmother had meant about magic being real.
The crystal pulsed in her palm like a heartbeat that wasn't hers. Like it was calling to something. Like something very far away was calling back.
Arin closed her fist around it and squeezed her eyes shut.
What had her grandmother gotten her into?
The horse started moving beneath her before she even touched the reins. Like it knew exactly where to go. Like it was pulling her toward something inevitable.
And in the darkness behind her eyes, she saw golden light that didn't come from the sun.