VALKIRA POV
I couldn't sleep that night. I just laid there staring at the wooden ceiling, hearing the crickets outside, my body heavy but my mind refusing to rest. The words of my parents kept circling in my head like vultures. "You are from the lineage of witches." A sorcerer.. that's what my blood is.
I kept asking myself, how is that even possible? How could I be born from such a thing? And worse… why now? Why when everything is already complicated. The moment I remembered Prince Zeroth's face, the way my chest had reacted to him, the mate bond pulling me, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
He is the Alpha Prince. The chosen heir of the moon goddess. And me? I am a sorcerer, and something forbidden. The goddess would never pair an Alpha with a witch… never. Yet she did.
My stomach twisted, shame and fear sitting heavy inside me. It is a great taboo. Sorcerers are never supposed to exist. They are not supposed to be named. They are buried in silence, erased in fire, forgotten in blood. To even speak of sorcery is dangerous. But now here I am, carrying it in my veins.
I turned and sat up on the bed, hugging my knees. I wanted answers. I needed to know who my real mother was, and where she came from. Why she practiced such dark magic. Why she died with me in her arms. My parents... no, not my parents, Isalith and Kaldo, they told me only pieces, but not enough. There is still so much hidden. And the more I thought of it, the more I felt like my life was not my own.
The truth is sorcerers are not seen as part of the werewolf world. They are not wolves, yet they are tied to wolves in a way. They were always hunted. They were always cast out. That is why the rogues took them in.
The rogue wolves who had no pack, no honor, no home. They gave shelter to sorcerers, because they themselves were already cursed in the eyes of the moon goddess.
That is why, for centuries, people see sorcerers and rogues as one and the same. Monsters, and outcasts. The broken children of the moon. And now, knowing the truth, I realized that is what I am. I am rogue by blood, even if I never lived like one.
My chest tightened as I whispered to myself, "So this is who I am." The words felt bitter. I pressed my palms to my face, trying not to cry, but the tears still came.
What will happen if anyone finds out? If Prince Zeroth finds out? If the council, the king, or even the people of the pack discover my bloodline? My bond with him would be torn apart. I would be dragged into the square, treated like filth, treated like a curse.
The truth is clear. If anybody eventually finds out my real origin and what I am, my head is going to be hung on a spike. I might get decapitated.
I can't go to Prince Zeroth's mansion tomorrow like this. My head kept spinning with the thought. What if they know? What if they find out I was the one who made Nyxara slam her head seven times on the wall like some puppet? What if someone saw me? Too many what ifs crawling inside my mind like insects, biting me one by one.
I laid back on the bed, hoping sleep would drag me away. My eyes were heavy, and my chest was tight, but I let nature take its course. And finally, sleep came.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was morning. I felt a hand tapping my shoulder gently.
"Valkira, wake up. Stand up and get ready for work," My mother said.
I yawned and stretched my arms above my head, my joints cracking. My body felt stiff from the way I had curled myself into a ball through the night.
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my palm, the sleep still clouding them, then scratched lazily at my messy hair. My lips smacked dryly as I sat up on the bed, blinking at her.
"I don't want to go," I whispered, my voice still hoarse from sleep.
She frowned, placing her hands on her hips. "And why not?"
I shook my head. "Because I'm scared. What if they find out? What if they realize it was me who made Nyxara hit her head? What if the whole mansion is already whispering about me?"
Her face softened, and she sat beside me, holding my hand. "Listen to me, Valkira. Nobody is going to find out. Just take your bath, get dressed, and go to work. Everything is going to be okay."
"But Mother..."
"No buts." She squeezed my hand harder. "You can't run from this. If you don't show up, that's when they will suspect. Keep your head down, do your duty, and everything will pass."
I wanted to argue, but my throat tightened. Maybe she was right. Maybe hiding would only make things worse.
So I dragged myself up, moved to the bathroom, and took my bath. The cold water hit my skin, waking me fully, though my chest was still heavy. I dressed quickly, I didn't bother with breakfast because I had no appetite.
Before I knew it, I was already standing at Prince Zeroth's mansion. My heart pounded as I walked into the maid quarters. Nobody was looking at me. Nobody pointed fingers or whispered.
They all just carried on with their duties. But my heart ached the moment I saw the blood stain on the far wall. I didn't need to ask whose blood it was. Nyxara's. I swallowed hard, ignored it, and quickly slipped into my maid uniform.
I inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. I knew where I was going next... the Prince's chamber. My chest burned with nerves. I had to prepare his bath, serve him food, do all the duties of a personal maid. But inside, my heart was crumbling.
How I wished I could erase the memory of him kissing me. That one moment where the mate bond lit up between us. I knew deep down it could never work. He was the Alpha Prince. I was a sorcerer. He would reject me eventually.
I pushed the thought aside and entered his chamber. And maybe luck was on my side, because he was still fast asleep on his bed. Relief washed over me. Quietly, I slipped into the bathroom and prepared his bath.
When I was done, I stepped out, only to collide into him.
I lost my balance and fell back on the floor with a gasp. My eyes shot up... he was standing right there, awake, watching me. My heart raced.
I scrambled up quickly, brushing my dress. "I... I didn't know you were awake, my prince."
He wasn't angry. He didn't shout. His expression was… soft. Almost gentle. "Valkira," he said, his voice low.
"Ehm, sorry," I stammered. "I was just preparing your bath."
"Valkira," he said again, slower this time, as if the sound of my name was something he needed to taste.
My heart shook. He could probably see how anxious I was, but I tried to mask it. I forced myself to smile, bowing a little. "Forgive my manners, my prince. Good morning. I just finished preparing your bath. I hope you have a nice soak while I go check what the chef has prepared for you and serve your food."
I quickly left, moving fast and leaving his chamber with my heart pounding. My feet carried me down the long hallways, my palms sweaty, my breath uneven. I just needed to get out of there. I headed straight to the kitchen where the chef was preparing his breakfast.
The moment I stepped inside, I noticed something was off. The other maids had gathered close, their heads bent together. I slowed my steps and tilted my head, straining to catch what they were saying.
It was about Nyxara. About the girl who had slammed her head on the wall seven times.
I froze, my chest tight.
Then Belia, the chef, turned to me with her big round face shining with sweat. "Did you hear, Valkira?" she said, lowering her voice. "The great Eyes of the Goddess is here."
I swallowed hard, and my throat felt dry. The Eyes of the Goddess. The priestess.
"What is she doing here?" I whispered, though I already knew.
Belia gave me a serious look. "Because of what happened yesterday. The thing with Nyxara… that was not ordinary. That was witchcraft."
Her words made my heart stumble. Witchcraft. She said it so easily, like it wasn't the very thing that could kill me if anyone knew.
"How do you know?" I asked, my voice shaking.
Belia smirked like she was proud of herself. She began spinning lies, adding things that didn't even happen, saying Nyxara's eyes had rolled white, saying she had seen dark shadows around her. None of it was true, but the others nodded like her words were gospel.
"The priestess is here to purify the prince's mansion," she finished, puffing her chest like she knew everything.
She kept talking too much. Her voice scratched my ears, and all I could think of was getting out of there. I prayed silently for her to hurry up with the food. Finally, she placed the dishes on the counter. I rushed forward, set them on a tray, and lifted it carefully into my hands.
I carried the tray out of the kitchen, my steps quick. But the moment I turned the corner, my heart nearly stopped.
The priestess stood there. The Eyes of the Goddess.
Her robes shimmered white and gold, her staff glowed faintly with symbols, and her eyes… gods, her eyes felt like they were looking right into my soul.
I bowed my head immediately, clutching the tray so hard my fingers hurt.
She raised her hand, stopping me. "Child," she said, her voice calm but sharp. "What are you?"
My knees felt weak. My lips trembled. My heart banged so loud in my chest I was sure she could hear it. What if she found out? What if she saw through me and declared me a witch here and now? My mouth opened but no words came. I was shaking all over, frozen like prey before a predator.
But before I could speak, a voice interrupted.
"Mother," Darethon said, stepping forward. His tone was cool. "She is Prince Zeroth's personal maid. Allow her to go serve the prince his breakfast."
The priestess turned to look at him. Slowly, she nodded. "Very well."
I nearly collapsed with relief. I bowed low, muttered, "Thank you Priestess," and hurried past them, gripping the tray like my life depended on it.
By the time I entered the prince's chamber, my hands were still trembling. My breath caught again the moment I saw him. He was standing by the window, his hair damp, his bare chest gleaming with drops of water. A towel hung low on his hips.
I froze.
My eyes roamed against my will, tracing the lines of his muscles, the strong chest, the faint scars on his skin that made him look even more dangerous. Heat rose to my cheeks and I gulped hard, trying to force my gaze away. My knees wobbled, my heart thudded painfully, but I forced myself to walk in.
I placed the tray on the table, my hands unsteady. "Your breakfast, my prince," I muttered, keeping my eyes low.
I turned quickly, eager to flee before my legs gave out. But just as I was about to step out of the chamber, his hand caught mine.
I gasped.
In one swift pull, he dragged me forward, my body colliding into his. My palms pressed against his wet chest, his skin burning hot under my hands.
He bent his head down, so close, our lips only inches apart. My breath hitched, my body trembling.
Then I felt it... his hands sliding lower, gripping my áss, squeezing it softly, firmly, claiming me in a way that left my whole body shaking.
"Fight me all you want, but the truth is simple... your pùssy is mine, and my còck won't rest till he's buried deep inside you."