The sounds of screams and howls from outside the palace make me grip the heavy silk dress even tighter.
Fear has frozen me in place, sitting in a room that was never mine, pretending to be the owner of this dress, this room, this palace.
The smell of blood is thick in the air.
The war has raged on for days, the North Kingdom showing off its fighting prowess while the East Kingdom falls.
The royals have fled, as have their maids.
My eyes dart toward the fireplace, the only exit that can guarantee my safety. But Princess Ravenna's warning is still ringing in my ears. The whole purpose of my existence now is to buy her time to escape.
My head jerks when I hear the shrieks of the servants down the corridor.
Trembling, I get to my feet. I'm frightened. I don't want to die. Not like this. And certainly, not right now.
My head turns to the left, and I stare at my reflection in the beautiful mirror where the princess has spent hours admiring herself, hours holding up my bloodied face as she carved it, simply because the Moon Goddess chose to make us so eerily similar. In the East and North Kingdoms, Princess Ravenna Druke, the only daughter of King Gideon Druke, is said to be the most beautiful female.
This war is of her making because of her arrogance in killing a noble from the North for humiliating her. And I have to pay the price.
Shaking, I lift my hand and trace my high cheekbones, plump lips, and brown eyes. Even my long, ebony hair is the same texture as that of the princess. The only thing that differentiates us is her birthmark, the one every royal within the Eastroyal family carries, a tulip-shaped mark on their wrists.
The sounds of the maids crying out as they are cut down in the hallway have me covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut.
I don't want to die! I don't want to die!
The doors of Princess Ravenna's chambers are forced open, and wolves flood the room.
Shaking now, I stare at them, terrified.
The one in the lead shifts form, and I make eye contact with him.
I expect to feel even more fear, but as he approaches me, my impending death in his eyes, a strange sensation courses through me, a sense of familiarity, a blinding need.
My knees buckle, and he catches me before I can fall to the ground, his arms like steel bands around my thin waist as he holds me against his chest. His amber eyes are fierce and filled with shock.
He holds my gaze.
"Found you," he whispers.
"Sire—"
"We're taking Princess Ravenna to the North!" the man declares, and my wolf quivers but for the wrong reasons. "We have won the war. The East has fallen. And I've got my spoils."
The last part is spoken in a low voice, meant only for my ears, and I know it can't be a good thing.