Chapter 4
685 Words
The parchment had already been sealed, the ink dried in royal blue wax.
Araya exhaled as she stared at the document spread before her on her father’s desk—every word she’d spoken, every policy she’d proposed at the Gathering had been properly recorded. Thank the Moon for that.
She didn’t trust herself to speak freely in front of the palace elders now. Not while the truth throbbed under her skin like fire.
Beta Darion stood behind the desk, reading the contents carefully. His eyes scanned every line, every diplomatic phrase, every signature stamped on the agreement scroll. He was a man of sharp order—there would be no carelessness under his roof.
Araya remained still, hands folded in front of her, her heart hammering as if she were still that trembling girl on the island.
“You carried yourself well,” Darion finally said.
Araya nodded.
“You’ve done Silver Moon proud.”
Relief hit her so hard it nearly weakened her knees.
“There was tension at first,” she admitted carefully, keeping her voice low. “But the Alphas accepted the terms. Our influence is rising.”
Darion nodded. “Good. And the Alpha of Black Ridge?”
“He’s watching us. But he didn’t reject anything.”
Darion rubbed his chin. “We’ll keep him close.”
She nodded again, grateful for the solid rhythm of politics. It gave her something to cling to.
But then her father’s voice shifted.
“You look tired,” he said.
She froze.
“I’m fine.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You look pale.”
“It’s just the season. Cold air.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You weren’t drinking that foolish wine they serve at the island feast?”
Her throat went dry. “Only a little.”
Darion sighed. “You need to take your duty more seriously, Araya. We are not Frost Hollow.”
She bowed her head. “I know.”
“Go rest,” he said at last. “I want you sharp for council in the morning.”
She turned to leave, walking quickly down the hall, cloak fluttering behind her like smoke.
---
She didn’t return to her chambers. Not yet.
Instead, she walked through the stone corridors until she reached the war library—a quiet place where no one would follow her. The air was heavy with old scrolls, forgotten maps, faded wolf crests.
She knelt before the central tapestry: a faded gold map of the ancient territories, stitched in silver thread.
And there, in the center, barely visible now, was the sigil of the lost kingdom.
The one that had vanished a generation ago.
Some said it fell to war. Others whispered betrayal.
But Araya had seen the face of a man in that candlelit room.
A man with silver hair.
Eyes like emerald fire.
And strength that pulsed from him like thunder.
He had not been a warrior.
He had been a king.
---
Araya pressed her forehead to the cool stone and whispered into the silence:
“Who are you? Why did the Moon send me to you?”
The child inside her fluttered.
She gasped, holding her belly.
It wasn’t just a dream. It wasn’t just memory.
The legacy of a kingdom long gone was growing inside her.
And one day… someone would come looking for it.
She rose slowly and pulled the cloak tighter around herself. The war library was silent, but her instincts were louder than ever. The Moon was watching. The stars above whispered secrets.
And deep within her, a flame stirred.
She didn’t know the name of the man she had given herself to, but her body knew him.
Her soul remembered him.
This wasn’t the end of something reckless. It was the beginning of something ancient.
And as the palace bells rang midnight, Araya made a silent vow:
She would protect the child.
No matter what.
Even if it meant lying.
Even if it meant war.
Because the blood inside her wasn’t just hers.
It was royal.
And one day… the truth would rise.
- Writer
