ARIA POV
The water was freezing cold.
"Hold still!" The fox woman scrubbed my skin so hard it burned. She'd already washed my hair three times, watching the brown dye run down the drain.
Now my silver hair shone under the lights. There was no hiding what I was anymore.
"Please," I begged. "You're hurting me."
"Good." Her voice was ice. "Maybe pain will teach you not to fight." She grabbed my face, studying my violet eyes. "Lord Draevon paid extra to make you presentable. Don't ruin his investment."
She wasn't like Yuki, the kind fox who'd given me medicine. This one liked my fear.
After the bath, she pushed me into a dress made of thin white silk. It was beautiful and horrible at the same time—designed to show off what buyers were buying. I felt naked.
"Number seventy-three," she said, tying a tag around my wrist. "Remember that. When they call your number, you walk onto the stage. You don't speak unless asked. You don't cry. You don't fight."
"And if I do?" I challenged.
She smiled, showing sharp teeth. "Then the wolves will break something before they sell you. A finger, maybe. Or a few teeth. Buyers don't mind broken goods if the price is low enough."
She shoved me into a holding room where other people waited. Mira was there, wearing a similar dress and looking frightened. When she saw me, her eyes went big.
"Your hair," she whispered. "It's actually silver."
"I know." I sat next to her, trying not to shake. Through the walls, I could hear voices—hundreds of them. The sale hall was filling up.
"Aria," Mira grabbed my hand. "Lord Draevon was asking the guards about you. He's planning something."
"I know." I'd already told her about Draevon's plan on the wagon ride here. "I have to refuse to help the king, or Garrett dies."
"But if the king dies, things get worse for all of us." Mira's voice broke. "There's no good choice."
She was right. I was stuck.
An older woman nearby leaned closer. "Did you say the king? The Lion King?"
"Yes," I said. "Why?"
"He comes to the sale sometimes. In disguise." Her eyes were sad. "They say he's looking for something. Or someone."
My heart skipped. "He's here? Tonight?"
"Maybe. No one knows what he looks like under the mask." She paused. "They also say he's the only king who's ever freed a human slave. Just one, years ago. But still."
Freed. The word sounded like a dream.
"Lot sixty-five!" A voice shouted. "Move!"
A girl next to us stood up, shivering. Guards pushed her toward a door. Through it, I heard cheering and yelling. The auction had started.
One by one, people were called. One by one, they vanished through that door.
Mira went at lot seventy. She looked back at me once, tears running down her face. "Don't give up," she whispered.
Then she was gone.
I sat alone, number seventy-three burning on my wrist. My grandmother's voice repeated in my head: Remember who you are.
But who was I? A half-breed? A Forgotten One? A girl who had to choose between saving a stranger or saving her brother?
"Lot seventy-three! You're up!"
A wolf guard grabbed my arm and dragged me forward. We went through the door, down a dark hallway, and suddenly— Light burst around me.
I was on a stage. Blinding white lights made me squint. Below, in rows of seats that stretched into dark, hundreds of beastmen watched me. Lions, wolves, bears, foxes—all of them looking like I was a piece of meat.
"Lot seventy-three!" A man's voice boomed. The seller. "Female, twenty-two, healthy, and—" He grabbed my chin, pushing my face toward the crowd. "—genuine silver hair and violet eyes! A true rarity, ladies and gents!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whispers exploded like flames.
"Is she really—"
"It can't be—"
"A Forgotten One—"
"Bidding starts at five hundred gold!" the announcer shouted.
"One thousand!" someone yelled.
"Two thousand!"
"Five thousand!"
The numbers rose higher and higher. I stood frozen, my heart beating so hard I thought everyone could hear it.
Then I saw him.
In the back of the room, in the darkness where the lights didn't reach, a pair of golden eyes watched me. Just eyes. Nothing else was visible. But those eyes—they were fierce and frantic and somehow... familiar.
My chest suddenly hurt. Not pain, but something else. Something warm and pulling, like an unseen rope was tied between me and those golden eyes.
What is this?
The auctioneer grabbed my arm, showing it to the crowd. "Strong build, good for labor or—"
I yanked my arm away.
Mistake.
The crowd gasped. The auctioneer's face went red with anger. "The lot is rebellious! Bidding lowered to three hundred gold for disciplinary issues—"
"One hundred thousand gold."
The voice cut through the noise like a knife through butter. Deep. Commanding. Absolute.
The entire sale hall went silent.
Everyone turned to look at the shadows where those golden eyes burned.
A figure stood. Even in darkness, I could see he was big. Powerful. Dangerous.
He walked down the aisle and the crowd split for him like water. As he got closer to the stage lights, I finally saw him clearly.
A lion beastman with a golden mane and scars crossing his bare chest. He wore simple dark clothes but carried himself like he owned the world.
Because he did.
"Your Majesty," the auctioneer stammered, bowing so low his face touched the stage. "The lot is yours, of course. But she's imperfect, hardly worth—"
"Did I stutter?" The Lion King's voice made the auctioneer flinch. "She's mine."
He climbed onto the stage. Up close, he was terrifying—seven feet of strength and power. His golden eyes locked onto mine, and that warm pulling feeling in my chest burst into fire.
I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't move.
What was happening to me?
The king circled me slowly, and I felt like prey being followed. But then he did something unexpected. He took off his coat—a royal cloak embroidered with gold—and wrapped it around my shoulders, hiding me from all the staring eyes.
"No one else touches what belongs to the crown," he announced to the crowd.
Then he leaned close, so only I could hear. His breath was warm against my ear.
"Breathe, little one," he whispered. "You're safe now."
But I wasn't safe. Because I recognized his scent—wild and clean, like storms and sunshine. And my body recognized him in a way that made no sense.
This was the king Draevon wanted dead.
This was the man I was supposed to refuse.
This was— My mate, something inside me whispered.
No. No, that was impossible.
The king straightened and looked at the seller. "Prepare her papers. She belongs to me now."
"Your Majesty," a voice called from the crowd. Lord Draevon stood, smiling like a snake. "How generous of you to accept my gift. I had that particular lot captured and brought here especially for you."
The king's eyes narrowed. "Your gift, Draevon?"
"Yes. A Forgotten One for our dying king. Surely her blood will cure your curse." Draevon's smile widened. "Unless, of course, she refuses to help you. Humans can be so... ungrateful."
The trap was closing.
The king looked at me, and I saw the truth in his eyes. He knew. He knew this was a setup. He knew Draevon was playing us both.
"What's your name?" he asked me quietly.
"Aria," I whispered.
"Aria." He said it like a prayer. "Will you come with me?"
This was the time. I could refuse, let him die, and save Garrett.
Or I could go with him, and Draevon would kill my brother.
But as I stared into those golden eyes, I felt the mate bond yelling at me. Felt something old and powerful waking up inside my chest.
And I realized—maybe there was a third choice.
"Yes," I said. "I'll go with you."
Draevon's smile disappeared.
The king's eyes flashed with surprise and something else. Hope.
He took my hand, and the moment our skin touched, the world burst with golden light.