Getting back to my room without anyone seeing me was easier than I expected. I guess when they think you're bedridden and half dying, it doesn't cross their minds that you might be roaming the halls looking for forbidden books about men who turn into beasts with issues of lunar rage.
I let myself fall onto the mattress with a long sigh. My head was pounding, but not from physical pain—because of the avalanche of information.
Kilian.
King of the North.
The alpha werewolf.
My moon.
Or, rather, I was his moon... according to those cursed books.
And if I wasn't mistaken, my transformation would happen when I turned eighteen. Which, by my calculations, was just a few days away.
Only, if my dear sisters killed me before then… game over.
What would a sweet, naive princess with a predetermined life do?
Nothing.
What would an ex-mafia leader with classified information and a sleeping wolf under her skin do?
A plan.
I sat down in front of the mirror. I studied my reflection. Big eyes, delicate features, an air of tragic innocence. Fragile, yes. But fragile like tempered glass: it looks fine, but it can cut you into tiny pieces.
"Alright, princess," I told myself. "Time to move the pieces."
I remembered something… a conversation, a visit…
The Emperor.
My "father." He had come to see me after the "accident"—which had actually been an attempted assassination with a family signature—and had proposed I accept the engagement with the King of the North.
Abigaíl, the original, refused.
I… couldn't afford that luxury.
I couldn't accept it all at once, of course. It had to seem natural, strategic.
I needed to get close to Kilian without raising suspicion.
And I came up with the perfect excuse.
---
The next day, while Liana was brushing my hair, I ordered her to send an urgent message to the Emperor. I couldn't wait any longer.
An hour later, he entered my chambers with his inquisitive gaze, followed by two guards.
"Abigaíl," he said without emotion. "I'm glad you're awake. What happened was reckless."
"Yes, Father. It won't happen again. That's precisely why I've made a decision," I replied with an almost sweet smile.
"A decision?"
"I will accept the engagement with the King of the North."
The silence thickened. I saw surprise flash across his face, but he quickly hid it.
"Are you sure about what you're saying?"
"I'm about to turn eighteen. My official debut is near, isn't it?" I adjusted my nightgown as if it were a ball gown. "I want to use that occasion to hold a ball. A diplomatic event. Invite Kilian."
The Emperor narrowed his eyes.
"A ball?"
"My debut and farewell as an unmarried princess. It will be the perfect setting to strengthen ties." I gave him a calculating look. "I want to meet the King before accepting anything definitive. That way, everyone will be happy. You get your alliance. I regain my reputation. And the rumors stop."
"You didn't even want to hear his name before," he replied coldly. "Why the change?"
"I almost died. That changes a lot," I answered with honesty in my voice. "Besides, I don't want to keep seeming like a burden. I want to show everyone I can fulfill my duty… my way."
He thought for a few seconds, then nodded slightly.
"Very well. I'll speak with the ministers. A ball in your honor will be organized before your birthday. But Abigaíl… don't underestimate the King of the North. He's not an ordinary man."
I held his gaze calmly.
"Perfect. Because I'm not an ordinary woman either."
---
That night, sitting by the window, I watched the crescent moon in the sky. It wasn't a blood moon yet, but each night I was getting closer.
Kilian would come to the ball.
And when he did, he would have to face two things:
1. The princess everyone thought was weak.
2. And the wolf that had just begun to wake.
I am not just Luciana.
I am not just Abigaíl.
I am both.
And this time… no one is going to decide for me.
The following hours were a symphony of hurried footsteps, maids running with rolls of fabric, servants checking guest lists, and an Abigaíl who, against all odds, strolled through the halls as if she hadn't been on the brink of death two days ago.
Luciana—because she was still her, even if now she wore skirts with too many ribbons—moved with the ease of a viper among lambs. Her new plan was underway, and nothing and no one was going to stand in her way.
Well… almost no one.
"Abigaíl," a venomous voice sang from the side gallery.
Luciana slowed her steps, barely turning her head. Her eyes met the elegant, plastic figure of Anet, the first princess. The Emperor's favorite. And the same one who had tried to kill her by pushing her down a marble staircase.
"Sister," Luciana replied with a frozen smile. "What a miracle to see you without a drink in your hand or a prepared excuse."
Anet took a few steps forward, her dress creaking with every movement.
"I hope you've learned your lesson," she said in a low voice, dripping with venom. "Don't let yourself fall down the stairs again… by accident."
Luciana held the smile, but her eyes sharpened like blades.
"Don't worry, sister. The next time someone gets sick in this palace… it won't be me."
Anet blinked, but said nothing.
Luciana leaned slightly toward her, as if sharing a harmless secret.
"How was the tea party this morning? Feeling alright?" she asked sweetly, as if talking about flowers. "You never know when a maid might accidentally—or loyally—poison your drink…"
Anet paled. She swallowed awkwardly.
For hours, her stomach had been playing tricks on her. But she hadn't wanted to make a fuss. Could it be…?
"If I were you, I'd have my servants taste your food first," Luciana added, shrugging. "You never know… maybe your next infusion will be your last."
Anet took a step back. Another. Then frowned, as rigid as a porcelain mask, and walked away without another word. But Luciana saw it: that subtle trembling in her hands, how she pressed her belly.
And then… she ran.
The princess practically stumbled toward her private wing of the palace.
Luciana watched her disappear calmly, smoothing her skirt with composure.
"What I said," she murmured, satisfied. "Second-rate villainess."
---
The following days passed in a whirlwind of embroidery, dress fittings, menu selections, and pointless debates about whether orchids should be placed by the wine or the fruit platters.
Luciana didn't intervene much. Only when something truly bothered her. Like those shoes that looked designed by a torturer.
"I don't want to look like a fancy victim at my debut," she told Liana, throwing the heels across the room. "I want to look like an irresistible trap."
Invitations had been sent all over Normalia and allied kingdoms. And the most awaited news arrived soon.
A letter sealed with the emblem of a silver wolf was delivered by a northern envoy. Luciana opened it with steady hands.
"To Her Royal Highness, the Fourth Princess Abigaíl of Normalia:
I have received your invitation.
I will attend.
K."
"Is that how he signs? Just one letter?" Luciana scoffed, though deep down… she felt her heart skip a little.
He was coming.
The Wolf King himself. The protagonist of the story I had read in another life. The man who, according to all legends, was destined to find her. To feel her. To claim her.
And she… was going to be ready.
Or so she thought.
---
The night before the ball, Luciana locked herself in her room. She sent Liana to bed early and reviewed all the information she'd gathered. Kilian's tastes, habits, trade routes, recent political decisions. She had even secretly commissioned a portrait of him.
She had to provoke the encounter.
In the novel, he didn't recognize her at first sight. Only when he heard her voice under the moonlight. Then his wolf smelled her. Felt her. Recognized her.
She was going to force that. Whatever it took.
She looked at herself in the mirror once more. The mafia Luciana. The fragile Abigaíl. The sleeping wolf. All reflected in that glass.
"What my sisters' knives couldn't do, a king with fangs won't," she murmured, while her fingers caressed the letter.
That night she dreamed of wolves.
Of blood.
And golden eyes glowing in the darkness like living embers.
She didn't know that the next day, her whole plan was going to shake.
Because Kilian wasn't coming alone.
And the past she thought was only fiction… was about to awaken too.