Seraphina had imagined many things before entering the grand halls of Silverthrone Palace.
She envisioned Darius meeting her gaze with admiration, imagined walks through the castle gardens with his arm around her waist, perhaps even a stolen kiss under the moonlight.
But all of that remained in her fantasies. Reality, as it turned out, was far colder.
Instead of drawing closer to him, it felt as if he were drifting further away-like trying to hold on to smoke. The more she reached, the more he slipped through her fingers. And she couldn't allow that.
Not now.
Not after everything she had done to get here.
Her heeled shoes echoed sharply against the marble floor as she stormed down the hallway.
Her fingers twitched with irritation, nails digging into her palm. She needed to act fast, but not recklessly.
The birthday celebration was only a few weeks away, and she intended to use it to her advantage.
But before that, she needed guidance...her mother's guidance.
She took a sharp turn, heading to her bedchamber to write a letter. A plea, really.
But as she reached the corridor leading to her room, a figure emerged from the adjoining hallway, nearly colliding with her.
"Oh!" Seraphina gasped, recoiling slightly before her eyes widened. "Lady Helen?"
The woman before her stood tall, dignified in a deep emerald gown with silver embroidery that shimmered like stardust.
The King's aunt.
A woman rarely seen in court but known for her sharp tongue and even sharper mind.
Rumour has it that she doesn't get along with the king, and the reason for that is a mystery.
"Lady Seraphina McMillan," Lady Helen said, her tone measured. "Still learning your way through these halls, I presume?"
Seraphina forced a tight smile. "Indeed, my lady. They're quite... vast."
Helen's gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat too long, as if reading more than Seraphina intended to show.
"I've seen many girls walk these halls with ambition in their eyes. Be careful. The palace is a beautiful place, but it devours the unworthy."
With that cryptic statement, Lady Helen continued on her way, her presence vanishing like a phantom, leaving Seraphina frozen.
Her heart thudded uneasily.
Was that a warning?
Seems like there's some truth to the rumour, she's really has a sharp tongue.
She hurried to her chamber, her fingers shaking slightly as she picked up her quill and parchment. She needed to write to her mother the Lady Arabella McMillan....immediately.
Mother,
Something is wrong. Darius is distant..colder than before. I fear I am losing my place, losing him. I need your advice. I need a plan. We cannot let this slip through our hands now that I am here. Write soon.
Seraphina.
She sealed the letter with the McMillan crest and rang for a messenger.
Seraphina stood by her window, watching the moon. She didn't want to think about losing him.
She whispered to herself, "You're mine, Darius. And I will not lose you to anyone.
Meanwhile, far from the palace walls, two cloaked figures moved stealthily through the bustling streets of Silvervale's capital. The moon hung high, casting silver light on cobbled roads.
No one knew that the king was among them.
Darius had discarded his royal garb for a plain linen shirt and black trousers, his cloak hooded. Marcus walked beside him, alert but calm.
"Feeling any better now?" Marcus asked, keeping his voice low.
Darius exhaled slowly. "I don't know. It's like... I can breathe again. No titles. No expectations. Just a man among men."
"You should savor it while you can. Soon enough, it's back to the throne and council meetings," Marcus replied with a smirk.
Darius scowled, muttering, "Don't remind me. Let me just enjoy the peace while it lasts."
Marcus chuckled, but didn't press further.
Darius slowed his pace as they passed a busy marketplace lit with lanterns and humming with laughter and distant music. For the first time in days, he felt... light. Free from the weight of ruling a kingdom, the scheming and all the responsibilities it demanded.
Yet even in this moment of peace, thoughts of the council lingered like a shadow. Those old fools believed they could control him, shape him into a puppet king.
If his father had wanted them so badly, he should have included them when he was alive. But no, he just had to die and leave Darius with his mess.
He clenched his jaw. He would undo it. Overrule the structure. Create his own path.
Then, like a gust of wind that suddenly shifts direction, it happened.
A scent.....sharp and intoxicating....cut through the air.
He halted.
Marcus turned to him, brows furrowed. "What is it?"
Darius didn't answer immediately. His senses went into overdrive. It was like pinewood after rain... mixed with the soft sweetness of wild roses.
Familiar and foreign all at once.
His wolf, Dan, stirred inside him with an urgency that made his hands tremble. His heart pounded. The world around him quieted.
"Darius?" Marcus asked again, now concerned.
But Darius didn't answer. His eyes darted through the crowd. His wolf roared for release, for control, to follow the scent.
He tried to steady his breathing, forcing Dan back with sheer will.
His pupils dilated. He gritted his teeth and tried to suppress the rising surge inside him.
Not now. Not here.
It's been a while since he spoke to his wolf Dan, both of them were at odds with each other.
Darius didn't want his mate, but Dan did.
And now with how he felt, and how Dan is fighting for control, deep down he knew what it meant but didn't want to acknowledge it.
He wanted to pretend that it was a false feeling but his wolf proved him wrong.
With his jaw clenched, eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight he spoke to Dan.
"What is it Dan?".
And his wolf answered him with the one word, one truth he has been dreading his whole life.
MATE....