Aria barely saw Draka these days.
Since they had arrived in the lycan kingdom—deep in the mountains, carved into stone and shadow—he had been busy. Meetings. Strategies. Organizing patrols. Training warriors. Preparing for the ceremony. The ceremony.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought, twisting in a knot she couldn’t quite name. Fear? Nerves? A touch of excitement?
Today was the day he would be crowned king.
She stood by the arched window of her room, sunlight pouring over the rocky landscape. The cool air brushed her cheeks, and she touched her stomach lightly. It had begun to show—just the slightest curve beneath her dress. A quiet reminder that change was already rooted inside her.
Yet, she was still alone.
Most of the lycans barely interacted with her. They kept their distance,
