King Aldric Drakmoor is not what I expected.
The man who ordered my family's extinction stands before the throne like a monument carved from winter itself. Tall, pale, ageless in the way of ancient vampires, with silver hair that catches the torchlight and eyes like chips of black ice. He wears power like other men wear clothes - naturally, completely, without conscious thought.
But it's his smile that freezes my blood. Cold, calculating, and utterly without warmth as he studies me where I kneel in silver chains.
"So," he says, his voice carrying the authority of centuries, "the last little wolf finally shows her teeth."
*****
The great hall has been cleared of everyone except the royal family and their most trusted guards. Queen Elenora stands at her husband's right hand, her expression unreadable. Prince Damon hovers nearby, practically vibrating with excitement at his discovery. Princess Lyra watches from the shadows, her face pale with horror.
And Lady Seraphina - Lady Seraphina looks like a cat who's found a particularly delicious mouse to play with.
"Your Majesty," I whisper, because even defiance has its limits when facing the man who destroyed everything I should have been.
"Princess Lunaria Valenheart," he replies, testing the name like wine on his tongue. "Daughter of King Fenris and Queen Celeste. Last heir of the Moon Throne. I must say, you've led us quite a chase."
"I've been here for months. Hardly a chase."
His laugh is like winter wind through dead leaves. "Oh, my dear child. We've been hunting you for twenty years. Ever since that delightful bonfire we made of your family's palace."
The words hit like physical blows. Images flash through my mind - not memories exactly, but impressions. Fire. Screaming. The smell of burning wood and something worse. A woman's voice calling my name as strong hands lifted me toward darkness.
"You killed them," I breathe.
"I eliminated a threat to vampire supremacy," he corrects. "Your father was planning to unite the wolf packs against us. Your mother was breeding an army of shapeshifters. They left us no choice."
"They were my parents."
"They were enemies of the realm." His tone suggests he's discussing the weather. "Though I admit, we thought we'd caught all the royal bloodline in our net. Imagine my surprise to learn one little fish had slipped through."
"How?" Queen Elenora asks, her voice cutting through the tension. "How did a royal werewolf end up collared and caged with no memory of her past?"
"An excellent question." The King begins to pace, his movements predatory despite his apparent calm. "Someone hid her. Someone powerful enough to suppress her memories, her transformation, her very nature. Someone who wanted to keep her alive but harmless."
"Who?" Damon demands. "Who would risk treason for a wolf?"
"Someone who understood the value of a living Valenheart princess," the King muses. "Someone who perhaps intended to use her as a bargaining chip... or a weapon."
His eyes find mine, and I see recognition there. Knowledge he's not sharing.
"But the spell is breaking, isn't it?" he continues. "The blood moon. The collar's removal. My son's... attentions. All of it working to wake what was meant to stay sleeping."
"She hasn't transformed," Lyra says quickly. "She's shown no wolf abilities. Surely that proves she's not a threat-"
"Naive child." The King's voice carries fond condescension. "She hasn't transformed yet. But the silver chains tell a different story. Look at her skin where the metal touches. See how it burns? Only pure werewolf blood reacts so violently to silver."
I glance down at my wrists, seeing the angry red welts where the chains rest. The burns are getting worse by the hour, silver poisoning working its way through my system.
"The question," the King continues, "is what to do with our unexpected guest."
"Kill her," Seraphina says immediately. "End the bloodline once and for all. Make sure no wolf can ever claim royal authority again."
"Tempting," the King agrees. "But hasty. A living Valenheart princess has... possibilities."
"What possibilities?" Queen Elenora asks, though her tone suggests she already knows.
"Bait." The word drops into the silence like a stone in still water. "There are wolves hidden throughout the realm - scattered, leaderless, but not extinct. They've been waiting for a sign, a symbol to rally around. What better symbol than their lost princess?"
"You want to use me to draw them out," I realize.
"Precisely. Let word spread that Princess Lunaria lives. Let the wolves come crawling out of their hiding places to rescue their precious royal heir. And when they do..."
"You'll slaughter them all."
"I'll finish what I started twenty years ago." His smile is terrible in its beauty. "The final hunt. The last howl. The end of the werewolf race forever."
"That's monstrous," Lyra breathes, her violet eyes bright with tears. "She's done nothing wrong. She doesn't even remember being a wolf!"
"She doesn't need to remember," the King replies. "She simply needs to exist. Her blood, her scent, her very presence will call to every wolf within a hundred miles. They won't be able to resist coming for her."
"And if they don't come?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"Then I'll have the pleasure of executing the last werewolf princess personally. Either way, the bloodline ends."
The silver chains burn against my skin as I try to process this. Twenty years I've lived in ignorance of who I am, what I represent. And now, in the space of a single day, I've become the key to genociding my own species.
"There is one complication," Queen Elenora says carefully. "Kael."
The King's expression darkens. "Ah yes. My lovesick son. Where is he, exactly?"
"Recovering from the bandit attack in the eastern territories.
"Bandit attack?" The King's laugh is sharp as breaking glass. "How... convenient. Almost as if someone wanted him out of the way while we dealt with this situation."
The implication hangs in the air like smoke. The attack was orchestrated. Kael was removed from the castle deliberately, leaving me vulnerable to discovery and capture.
"When he returns," the King continues, "he'll find his pet has been... reassigned. I'm sure he'll understand the necessity."
"And if he doesn't?" Damon asks, though his tone suggests he already knows.
"Then he'll learn that crowns are earned through sacrifice, not sentiment." The King's voice carries finality. "A king who cannot put duty before personal desire is no king at all."
"Take her to the tower," the King commands Captain Sly. "The highest room. Let her scent carry on the wind. Let every wolf for miles know their princess is here."
"Your Majesty," I say, desperation leaking into my voice, "please. I remember nothing of the wolf world. I have no allies, no pack, no power. I'm not the threat you think I am."
"No," he agrees, moving closer until I can smell the ancient power radiating from his skin. "You're not a threat. You're an opportunity. The final solution to a problem that has plagued vampire rule for centuries."
His hand touches my cheek, the contact burning like ice. "Twenty years ago, I made a mistake. I let emotion cloud my judgment, let mercy stay my hand when I should have been thorough. I won't make that mistake again."
"What mistake?"
His smile is terrible. "I let you live the first time, little wolf. I won't be so... sentimental again."
As the guards drag me from the great hall, I catch one last glimpse of the royal family. Queen Elenora watches with calculating eyes, already planning how to use this situation to her advantage. Damon practically glows with satisfaction at his discovery. Seraphina's smile promises cruelties I can't begin to imagine.
And Princess Lyra... Princess Lyra looks like she's watching someone she loves being led to execution.
The tower room they choose for me is circular, with windows on all sides that let in moonlight and fresh air. On any other night, it might have been beautiful. Tonight, it feels like a trap.
The silver chains are longer here, allowing me to move around the room but not reach the windows. The burns on my wrists have spread up my arms, and I can feel the poison working deeper into my system with each passing hour.
But as I sink onto the narrow bed they've provided, I realize something the King doesn't know.
The pendant. Hidden beneath my dress, pressed against my heart, is the silver crescent moon I found in the dungeon. The one that brought back fragments of memory, whispers of a name I'd forgotten.
*****
Hours pass. The castle settles into the quiet rhythms of night, but I can hear activity in the courtyards below. Riders departing with messages. Guards doubling patrols. The systematic preparation of a trap designed to catch every wolf foolish enough to answer their princess's call.
As the moon climbs higher, I press my hand to the pendant and whisper the name that feels like coming home.
"Lunaria."
And somewhere in the distance, carried on the night wind, I swear I hear an answering howl.