Nova's POV
I couldn't hold on to the crystal vase.
I watched, heart stopping, as the crystal vase fell toward the marble floor. At the last second, I caught it. Breaking it would have cost me a month's pay or even my place in the palace.
I held the vase close to my chest, my hands shaking. It was close. Too close.
With care, I put it back on the table and looked down the empty hallway. The tall windows let in dawn light that made everything look gold and pink. No one had seen what I did wrong. Okay. The last thing I needed was attention.
I grabbed my scrub brush and bucket, moving to the next spot. My knees ached, and my fingers were raw, but I didn't stop. Stopping meant thinking and remembering meant pain. "You missed a spot."
I jumped, nearly knocking over my bucket. A guard stood behind me, pointing at a tiny spot near the wall. I nodded quickly and scrubbed the spot until it gleamed. He grunted and walked away without another word.
This was my life. Scrubbing floors. Avoiding eyes. Staying unseen.
No one here knew the truth. They didn't know that eight years ago, I wore silk gowns instead of rough servants' clothes. They didn't know that I once had teachers who taught me languages, history, and magic. They didn't know my mother was a queen and my father was a king.
They didn't know I was Princess Nova Winterhart, and that I was supposed to be dead.
I moved to the grand stairs, starting at the top step and working my way down. This was my least favorite job because important wolves frequently used these steps. I had to press myself against the wall whenever someone passed, making myself as small as possible. "Move, girl," a noblewoman snapped, her fancy shoes nearly stepping on my hand. I yanked it back just in time.
She didn't even look at me. None of them ever did.
Sometimes I wondered if I had become invisible for real. If the curse that stole my voice had somehow stolen my presence, too. But no, I could still see my image in the shiny floors I scrubbed. Still there. Still real.
Still stuck.
My throat ached the way it always did when I thought about speaking. The curse curled around my vocal cords like invisible chains. I'd tried to break it once, three years ago. I'd opened my mouth, desperate to scream for help when a kitchen fire broke out.
Nothing came out except a small gasp.
But I'd felt the curse tightening, and far away in the Enchanted Woods, I'd heard my brothers howl in pain through our magical link. The word was clear: try to speak, and they suffer. Speak real words, and they die.
So, I stayed quiet.
I was halfway down the stairs when I felt it.
The air changed. Became heavy, electric. My skin prickled with awareness, and the mate bond in my chest, the one I'd been trying to ignore for eight long years, suddenly flared to life like someone had set fire to my heart.
He was coming.
Alpha King Thorne Blackice.
My fated mate, who had no idea I existed.
I pressed myself against the wall, making myself even smaller. Maybe he wouldn't notice me this time. Maybe his footsteps echoed on the marble. Heavy. Confident. Each one made my heart beat faster. I kept my eyes down, looking at the soapy water in my bucket like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
The footsteps stopped.
Right next to me. "You're blocking the stairs."
His voice was deep and cold, exactly like everyone said. The Ice King. That's what people called him behind his back. A ruler with a frozen heart who cared about nothing except the job and power.
I quickly grabbed my bucket and moved away, still not looking up. My hands shook so badly that water sloshed over the side. "Clumsy," he grumbled.
The word stabbed into me, but I couldn't protect myself. Couldn't explain. Couldn't do anything except stand there like a rock while he walked past.
But then something happened that had never happened before.
He paused.
I felt his eyes on me. Actually, on me, not just glancing past like I was part of the furniture. My breath caught in my throat. "Have we met before?" he asked.
I shook my head quickly, still not looking up. Please don't notice me. Please keep going. Please "Look at me."
It wasn't a request. It was an order from an alpha king.
Slowly, heart pounding, I lifted my eyes.
And met his eyes for the first time.
Ice blue. Sharp. Intelligent. His eyes were exactly the color of a winter sky, and when they locked onto mine, the mate bond burst in my chest with such force that I gasped.
Did he feel it too? Did he
His eyes widened slightly. His hand moved to his chest, right over his heart, like he'd been hit by something unexpected.
He felt it.
After eight years of being unseen, Alpha King Thorne Blackice finally felt the mate bond. "What's your name?" he asked.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Pointed to my throat and shook my head. The global sign for I cannot speak.
His eyebrows drew together. "You're mute?"
I nodded. "How long have you worked here?"
I held up eight fingers.
Something flickered across his face: surprise? Confusion? "Eight years? You've been in my home for eight years, and I've never..." He trailed off, still staring at me like he was trying to solve a problem.
The mate bond pulsed between us, bright and warm. I could feel his confusion, his curiosity, and underneath it all, a loneliness that matched my own. "Your Majesty!" A servant rushed up the stairs, panting. "The group from the Eastern Territories has arrived early. Lady Seraphina Frost is asking an immediate audience."
The moment broke.
Thorne's attention snapped away from me to the helper. "Lady Seraphina is here? Now?" "Yes, Sire. She says it's urgent."
I felt the exact moment when Thorne forgot about me. His eyes slid past me like I'd turned invisible again. "Take me to her."
He strode up the stairs without a backward glance, leaving me standing there with my heart still pounding and the mate bond aching in my chest.
But I barely noticed.
Because I'd heard that name. Lady Seraphina Frost.
And suddenly I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
Because eight years ago, on the night my country burned and my parents died screaming, I'd hidden in a closet and watched through a crack in the door as a beautiful woman with white-blonde hair stood in the flames, laughing.
And my mother, bleeding and dying, had gasped out a warning: "Beware the Frost that isn't frozen. Beware, Seraphina."
The bucket slipped from my numb fingers, falling to the floor and spilling soapy water everywhere.
Lady Seraphina Frost wasn't just some noblewoman.
She was here for a reason.
And I was the only one who knew that the woman now walking into my mate's home was the monster who had destroyed everything I loved.
I had to warn him.
But I couldn't talk.