Midnight Tomorrow- Part 2
1535 Words
Princess Moon
The next morning, I woke with Ashen’s name on my tongue.
Not because anyone had proven anything.
Not because I had seen his face clearly.
But because dreams were beginning to betray me.
In the dream, the boy from the ball stood in the woods with his mask in his hand.
Only this time, when he turned, the server from the gathering looked back at me.
Ash-blond hair.
Soft mouth.
Winter-blue eyes.
And behind him, a massive white wolf strained against chains, silent and furious.
I woke before I could reach him.
After bathing and dressing in a simple dark-blue gown, I went downstairs before Elira could pin my hair into something “guest-appropriate.” I wanted to see SilvaFrost before it finished arranging itself for royal eyes.
The kitchen corridor smelled like warm bread, smoke, meat, soap, and him.
Stronger than before.
Frost.
Winter roses.
Old magic.
It lingered in the stones.
In the woodpile stacked beside the service door.
In the polished trays.
In the bucket handles.
In the clean floor beneath my shoes.
Everywhere work had been done before sunrise, his scent remained.
I stopped near the kitchen entrance.
A young servant hurried by with a tray of cups.
“Excuse me,” I said.
She stopped so fast tea nearly spilled.
“My lady?”
Good.
She did not know who I was.
Not fully.
Only that I looked noble enough to fear.
“I am visiting with the royal party,” I said lightly. “I like to know the places I stay. What is SilvaFrost like?”
Her face brightened with the terrified eagerness of someone asked to praise her own cage.
“Oh, it’s a wonderful pack, my lady. Very organized. Very clean. Lady Seraphine keeps everything running beautifully. We are all very honored to serve here.”
Fluffy answer.
Practiced answer.
Useless answer.
I smiled. “How lovely.”
She relaxed.
Too soon.
“And the work? It must take many hands to keep a packhouse this efficient.”
“Oh, yes. Many hands.” She glanced toward the kitchen, then leaned in slightly. “Though there is one omega who does a shocking amount of it.”
My pulse slowed.
“An omega?”
She blushed.
Actually blushed.
“He keeps to himself. Very quiet. Very…” Her blush deepened. “Cute.”
Storm went still.
I kept my tone mild. “Cute?”
“I mean, not that I look.” She looked around quickly. “I don’t. Well, I do, but everyone does.”
“Everyone looks at him?”
“Not openly.” Her voice lowered into the secretive tone of someone relieved to finally gossip. “He is not typical.”
“How do you mean?”
She bit her lip. “He feels like an omega. His scent, I mean. Soft. Low. Like he should be timid.”
“And he is not?”
“No.” She frowned, searching for words. “He lowers his eyes and does what he’s told, but it never feels like he is… gone. Do you understand?”
Yes.
More than she knew.
“He feels like he is choosing it,” she whispered. “Like he could look up if he wanted to.”
My hand tightened around my skirt.
“What is his name?”
The servant’s face shifted.
Too late, she remembered caution.
“Oh, I should go. Breakfast service.”
“Of course.”
She hurried away.
I watched her vanish into the kitchen.
Then I followed the scent.
For half the morning, I searched without seeming to search.
I walked the corridors.
Paused near the woodpile.
Asked about the training grounds.
Visited the laundry wing.
Pretended interest in the east staircase and noticed how every step had been scrubbed so clean it reflected the windows.
Everywhere, I nearly found him.
A door closed before I reached it.
A servant said he had “just left.”
Fresh logs appeared beside a hearth while my back was turned.
A bucket still rocked near the well.
A line of frost melted from a pail handle seconds before I touched it.
Almost.
Again and again.
Almost.
Near midday, I heard the story.
Two kitchen boys were whispering near the back hall, their voices low and excited.
“I’m telling you, he walked on the river.”
“No one walks on the river.”
“He did. My little cousin was in the water. Everyone saw.”
“Then why isn’t anyone talking about it?”
“Because it was him.”
Silence.
Then the second boy said, much quieter, “The omega?”
The first boy answered, “Yes. But he froze it. Step by step. Like the river knew his feet.”
My breath caught.
The pup.
The river.
The ice.
The server’s hidden wolf.
The ring from House Frostveil.
The boy who ran at midnight.
Pieces moved inside my mind, not yet forming a picture, but close enough that I could feel the edges cutting.
I turned away before the boys saw me listening.
By afternoon, I had bought the gift.
Not from SilvaFrost’s formal shops, where everything looked approved by Seraphine’s taste, but from a small vendor near the lower road. A ribbon comb made of silverwood and tiny moonstone beads. Simple, pretty, strong enough not to break easily.
Nara deserved something that belonged only to her.
Not a hand-me-down.
Not a servant’s scrap.
Not something hidden.
I found her near the omega quarters just before dusk.
The hallway was colder there.
Narrower.
Less polished.
The kind of place important guests were never meant to wander.
Nara nearly dropped the folded linens in her arms when she saw me.
“Miss Moon?”
“Hello.”
Her eyes went wide. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I get that a lot.”
“No, I mean really. You can’t be in the omega quarters.” She glanced behind her, panicked. “I can get in trouble.”
“I knew you would not come,” I said gently. “So I came looking for you.”
“I was going to.”
“No, you were not.”
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
Then she looked away.
I held out the small wrapped package.
“I wanted to give you this. And see you off.”
Her eyes flicked to the gift like it might bite.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to.”
“My brother will be mad if I bring someone along.”
“Then I will speak to him.”
“No,” she said quickly.
Too quickly.
I stepped closer. “Nara, I am not here to hurt either of you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know what I intend.”
“That is not the same thing.”
She was right.
And I liked her more for knowing it.
I lowered my voice. “Let me walk with you only as far as your meeting place. If your brother says leave, I will leave.”
She hugged the linens to her chest, torn between fear and the terrible hope of someone unused to being chosen.
Finally, she nodded.
“Fine. But quietly.”
“I can be quiet.”
She gave me a look.
“Princesses are not known for it,” she muttered.
I smiled. “You know?”
“I figured it out last night.”
“And still you called me Miss Moon?”
“You looked like you needed one person not to bow.”
My chest warmed.
“Nara—”
“Come on,” she whispered.
We slipped through the back of the packhouse while the evening meal preparations covered the sound of our footsteps. Nara moved like she knew every creaking board, every blind corner, every place a servant could pass unseen.
I followed her into the cold.
Snow crunched softly beneath our shoes as we crossed behind the wood sheds and moved toward the tree line beyond the kitchen yard.
“This is where you wait?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“For your brother?”
Her shoulders tightened. “Yes.”
I did not ask his name.
Not yet.
The woods were quiet except for wind moving through frozen branches. Nara stood near a split pine marked with a faint s***h at the bark. She kept looking toward the path, worry deepening with every passing breath.
I wanted to tell her I had seen him.
Maybe.
I wanted to ask if her brother had ash-blond hair and winter in his scent.
I wanted too many things.
Then footsteps sounded behind us.
Nara froze.
Not with relief.
With fear.
I turned.
Callan Drakewood stepped from the shadows near the wood shed, dressed in dark blue, his golden hair catching the last light of evening.
His gaze moved from me to Nara.
Then his smile sharpened.
“Princess,” he said. “There you are.”
Nara’s face went white.
Callan looked her up and down like she was something dirty on his boot.
“Why are you hanging out with this low-life omega?”
- Writer
