Isla's POV
I didn't sleep at all.
Every creak, every whisper of wind, every shadow made me grip the dagger tighter. By the time morning light streams through the windows, my hands are cramped and my eyes burn with exhaustion.
"Sleep well, little imposter."
The words echo in my head. Who said them? And why didn't I scream for help?
Because I'm terrified that no one would come. Or worse—that the person who threatened me is someone Kieran trusts.
A knock makes me jump so hard I nearly drop the dagger.
"Miss?" Eliza's voice. "His Majesty requests your presence at breakfast."
My stomach drops. Breakfast. With the Wolf King. Alone.
"I'll... I'll be ready in a moment," I call out, my voice shaking.
Eliza helps me dress in one of the gowns from last night—deep blue silk that makes my skin look less pale. She braids my hair and steps back, smiling.
"Beautiful, Miss."
I don't feel beautiful. I feel like I'm walking to my execution.
The guards escort me through endless hallways. Servants stop and stare, their whispers following me like ghosts.
"That's her?"
"She looks so ordinary."
"I heard she used a love potion."
I keep my head up, but each word is a knife to my chest.
We reach a private dining room. The guards open the doors, and I step inside.
Kieran sits at the head of a long table. He's dressed in black, his silver eyes cold as winter. He doesn't smile when he sees me. Doesn't stand. Just watches me with an expression I can't read.
"Sit," he says. Not unkind, but not warm either.
I take the seat closest to him, my hands trembling in my lap.
A servant places food in front of me—more food than I've seen in a week. Fresh bread. Eggs. Meat. Fruit. My stomach growls loudly, and I flush with embarrassment.
"Eat," Kieran says, cutting into his own food. "You barely weigh anything."
It's not a compliment. Just an observation.
I pick up my fork, but my hands shake so badly I can barely hold it. Everything feels wrong. The silverware is too heavy. The chair is too soft. This isn't where I belong.
"Did you sleep well?" Kieran asks, still not looking at me.
The lie almost comes automatically. Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.
But then I remember the footsteps. The whispered threat.
"No," I say quietly. "I didn't."
His eyes snap to mine. "Why not?"
I hesitate. Should I tell him? What if he thinks I'm making it up for attention?
"Someone came to my door last night," I say. "They... they said something."
Kieran goes very still. "What did they say?"
"'Sleep well, little imposter. Enjoy it while you can.'" The words taste like poison. "They knew I was alone."
His fork clatters against his plate. "Why didn't you call for the guards?"
"I... I didn't know if anyone would come. If anyone would believe me."
"I stationed guards outside your door specifically to—" He stops, his jaw clenching. "They saw no one?"
I shake my head.
He stands abruptly, pacing to the window. His shoulders are rigid with tension.
"This is exactly what I was afraid of," he mutters. "Someone in the palace. Someone with access."
He turns back to me, and for a moment, his expression softens. "Are you hurt?"
"No. Just scared."
"Good. I mean—" He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Good that you're not hurt. Not good that you're scared."
It's the most human I've seen him. Almost... flustered.
Then his mask slams back into place.
"We need to establish some rules," he says, returning to his seat. His voice is cold again, business-like. "The moon chose you. I'll honor that choice. We'll complete the bonding ceremony in seven days as required."
My heart sinks. This is it. The rejection I've been waiting for.
"But I want to be clear," he continues, not meeting my eyes. "This is a political arrangement. A duty. The kingdom needs a moon-blessed queen to restore the wards. That's what you are. What we are."
Each word lands like a blow.
"Don't expect romance," he says flatly. "Don't expect love. I'm not capable of either."
The pain is sharp and unexpected. I barely know him. I shouldn't care what he thinks of me.
But I do.
Maybe it's the mate bond. Maybe it's just because he saved my life. Or maybe it's because, for one brief moment last night, I felt like I mattered to someone.
Apparently, I was wrong.
I lift my chin, forcing myself to meet his eyes. I won't let him see how much his words hurt.
"I understand, Your Majesty," I say, keeping my voice steady. "I never expected anything else. I know what I am."
Something flashes in his eyes. Anger? Regret?
"You don't know anything about what you are," he says, and now there's heat in his voice. "That's the problem."
"Then enlighten me," I snap back before I can stop myself. "Tell me why the moon chose a worthless servant who can't even shift. Tell me why someone cursed me as a baby. Tell me why people want me dead!"
The words burst out of me, all the fear and confusion and anger from the past twelve hours.
Kieran stares at me, shocked.
I realize what I've done. I just yelled at the Wolf King. He could have me thrown in the dungeon. Executed.
But he doesn't look angry.
He looks... impressed?
"You have fire," he says quietly. "I wondered if it was there, under all that fear."
He moves closer, and suddenly he's right in front of me. Close enough that I can smell pine and smoke and something wild.
"You want to know why the moon chose you?" His voice drops lower. "Because you're not what you seem. The High Priestess discovered your true identity last night."
My breath catches. "What?"
"Your name isn't just Isla. It's Isla Thornewood." He watches my face carefully. "Does that mean anything to you?"
I shake my head, confused.
"The Thornewoods were the original royal family. Moon priests and priestesses with extraordinary power. They ruled for centuries before they were betrayed and murdered twenty-five years ago." His silver eyes bore into mine. "You're the last surviving heir."
The room spins.
"That's impossible," I whisper. "I'm nobody. I'm—"
"You're a queen by blood," he interrupts. "Someone placed a curse on you as a baby to hide your identity. To suppress your power. That's why you can't shift."
I can't breathe. Can't think.
"So you see," Kieran says, and his voice is cold again, "this isn't about romance or choice. You're a political threat as much as you are an asset. Once that curse breaks, you'll be powerful enough to challenge my throne."
"I would never—"
"You say that now." He steps back, putting distance between us. "But power changes people. I've seen it happen."
"I'm not like that," I insist, standing to face him. "I don't want power. I don't want the throne. I just want—"
"What? Love?" He laughs bitterly. "There's no room for love in our world. Only duty. Only survival."
"Then why did you save me?" The question bursts out. "Why did you protect me if you think I'm such a threat?"
He goes very still.
"Because—" He stops. His jaw clenches. "Because the moon chose you. That makes you mine to protect, whether I like it or not."
Mine. The word sends shivers through me despite everything.
But before I can respond, he turns away.
"Finish your breakfast. You have lessons this afternoon. Protocol, history, combat training. If you're going to be queen, you need to act like one."
He walks toward the door.
"Your Majesty," I call after him.
He pauses but doesn't turn around.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For saving my life. Even if you didn't want to."
His shoulders tense. For a long moment, he doesn't move.
Then he's gone, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud.
I sink back into my chair, my legs shaking.
Royal blood. A curse. Power I don't have. A king who sees me as a duty at best, a threat at worst.
And somewhere in this palace, someone who wants me dead.
I look down at the breakfast I can't eat anymore. My reflection stares back from the polished silver plate.
Dark hair. Hollow eyes. The Moon's Kiss glowing on my neck.
Isla Thornewood.
The name feels foreign. Wrong.
But if it's true...
If I really am the last heir of a murdered royal family...
Then everyone who ever called me worthless was wrong.
And the person who cursed me—who stole my power, my identity, my life—is walking free.
Probably right here in the palace.
Rage burns through me, hot and fierce. Not the helpless anger of a servant who has no power.
The righteous fury of a queen who's been robbed of everything.
I stand up, my hands steady for the first time since last night.
I don't know how to be a queen yet.
But I'm going to learn.
And when I do, I'm going to find whoever cursed me.
And make them pay.