The castle corridors feel like a maze designed to trap me.
Three days since the news of Kael's attack arrived, and the atmosphere has shifted like smoke before a storm. Servants who once nodded respectfully now avert their eyes. Guards who used to ignore me now follow my movements with predatory attention. Even the stones beneath my feet seem to whisper of danger.
I'm returning from another tense meeting with Princess Lyra when I hear the commotion - raised voices, the clatter of weapons, something heavy hitting stone. The sounds echo from the lower levels, near the dungeons where prisoners are kept.
I should go straight to Kael's chambers. Lock the door. Wait for whatever storm is coming.
Instead, I find myself drawn toward the noise like a moth to flame.
*****
The dungeon stairwell is lit by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls. I press myself against the cold stone, listening to voices drift up from below.
"...told you everything..." The voice is weak, raspy, barely human.
"Not everything." This voice I recognize - Captain Sly, the Queen's personal guard. "We know there are others. Where are they hiding?"
"Dead. All dead. Like they wanted." A sharp crack echoes through the stone - flesh meeting metal.
I creep closer, peering around the corner. In the cell below, I can see a figure chained to the wall - gaunt, broken, more corpse than man. His clothes are torn rags, his skin mottled with old bruises and fresh wounds. But there's something about him that makes my breath catch.
His eyes. Even from here, even dulled by pain and exhaustion, they gleam silver in the torchlight.
"The princess," he gasps, and the word hits me like a physical blow. "She lives. I've seen her."
Captain Sly leans closer. "Where?"
"Closer than you think. Closer than you know." A laugh bubbles up from the prisoner's throat, wet and broken. "Right under your noses. The lost daughter of the moon."
"Enough riddles. Give me names. Locations."
"Names?" The prisoner's head lolls forward, but I catch his next words clearly. "Princess Lunaria Valenheart. Last of the royal wolves. The silver-eyed girl who will end your line."
Lunaria.
The name hits me like lightning, like recognition, like coming home to a place I've never been. Something deep in my chest unfurls - not quite memory, but the ghost of memory. The echo of a name spoken in love, in fear, in desperate hope.
"Lunaria," I whisper, and the word tastes like moonlight on my tongue.
"Search the surrounding territories," Captain Sly commands someone I can't see. "If she's alive, find her. The Queen wants this bloodline ended once and for all."
"Yes, Captain. What about this one?"
"He's given us what we need. End it."
The sound that follows makes my stomach turn - metal sliding through flesh, a wet gasp, then silence.
I should run. Should flee back to the safety of Kael's chambers and pretend I never heard any of this. But something keeps me frozen, watching as the guards emerge from the cell.
"Burn the body," Captain Sly orders. "And send word to Queen Elenora. Tell her we have confirmation - the Valenheart princess lives. She'll want to intensify the search."
The guards move past my hiding place, their footsteps echoing up the stone stairs. I wait until the sound fades completely before I dare to move.
The cell is empty now except for the smell of death and the ashes that were once a man. But as I turn to leave, something glints in the torchlight - a small pendant that must have fallen from the prisoner's neck.
I know I shouldn't. Know it's dangerous beyond measure. But I find myself creeping into the cell, my fingers closing around the pendant.
It's silver, tarnished with age, shaped like a crescent moon. The moment my skin touches the metal, images flash through my mind - not memories exactly, but impressions. A woman with silver hair singing lullabies. Strong hands lifting me toward starlight. The scent of pine forests and wild roses.
And through it all, that name echoing like a heartbeat: Lunaria. Lunaria. Lunaria.
*****
I make it back to Kael's chambers without being seen, though my hands shake so badly I can barely work the door latch. Once inside, I sink onto his bed, staring at the pendant in my palm.
Princess Lunaria Valenheart. Last of the royal wolves.
The words should feel foreign, impossible. Instead, they feel like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. The way Kael's eyes widened when he saw my birthmark. The strange taste of my blood that he couldn't identify. The way my bones tried to reshape themselves under the blood moon.
The way Martha looked at me with recognition and whispered about blood remembering what minds forget.
I am not just a nameless slave girl. I am not just Kael's pet.
I am Princess Lunaria Valenheart, daughter of wolves, heir to a throne built from moonlight and silver.
And they're hunting me.
*****
The hours pass in a blur of revelation and fear. I hide the pendant beneath the furs where I sleep, but I can feel its presence like a second heartbeat. Every sound in the corridor makes me freeze. Every shadow seems to hold watching eyes.
By evening, I've made my decision.
I will tell no one. Not Lyra, with her kind heart and loose tongue. Not the servants who whisper secrets in corners. And especially not Kael, if he returns.
This knowledge is too dangerous. These memories too precious. I've spent too long learning to survive in this place to throw it all away on the truth.
But as I lie on my furs that night, the pendant pressed against my heart, I whisper the name into the darkness like a prayer.
"Lunaria."
And for the first time since I can remember, I know who I am.
Even if I can't let anyone else know it yet.
*****
Morning comes too soon and not soon enough. Mira arrives with breakfast, her face pale with worry.
"Miss, there's been news from the territories. Prince Kael's delegation... they're saying he's been gravely injured. That he might not survive the journey home."
The words hit like ice water, washing away the warmth of last night's revelation. Kael, wounded. Possibly dying. The one person in this castle who might protect me, might care if I live or die.
"They're also saying," Mira continues, her voice dropping to a whisper, "that Queen Elenora has decided to... reorganize the household. Starting with those who no longer serve a purpose."
Translation: they're coming for me. Soon.
I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the fear clawing at my chest. "Thank you for the warning."
After Mira leaves, I press my hand to my heart, feeling the pendant's outline beneath my dress. Princess Lunaria Valenheart, they called me. Last of the royal wolves.
If that's true, then I'm not helpless. Not just a slave to be disposed of when convenient.
I am a princess. I am a wolf. I am the last of my line.
And it's time I started acting like it.
Even if I have to pretend to be just a pet a little while longer.