The Scent in SilvaFrost
1329 Words
The Midnight Prince
“Did the princess find him?” my daughter asked.
I smiled faintly. “Almost.”
My son groaned. “Almost is not finding.”
“No,” I agreed. “But sometimes almost is worse.”
“Why?”
“Because almost means you were close enough to touch the truth,” I said, watching the fire bend low over the wood, “and still lost it before your fingers closed.”
My daughter frowned. “That sounds unfair.”
“It was,” I said. “But fairy tales are not fair because they are gentle. They are fair because the truth always finds a way out.”
Princess Moon
Alpha Torren Drakewood looked as if the moon itself had arrived at his gates and asked to inspect the kitchen.
For a man trained to rule a pack, he recovered quickly.
But not quickly enough.
I saw the stiffness in his shoulders. The flicker in his eyes. The way his gaze slid past my mother, past Solan, past me, and toward the side corridors of the packhouse as if calculating what could still be hidden before we stepped inside.
Lady Seraphine recovered even faster.
Her smile appeared like a blade pulled from silk.
“Your Majesty,” she said, curtsying low. “Princess Moona. Prince Solan. What an honor. If we had known you were coming, we would have prepared a proper welcome.”
“That is why we did not send warning,” my mother said pleasantly.
Solan coughed into his glove.
I kept my face still.
Seraphine’s smile tightened by a thread.
Alpha Torren bowed. “SilvaFrost is yours to visit, Your Majesty. We are only surprised.”
“So I see,” my mother replied.
The air went quiet.
Snow drifted behind us in soft silver pieces, gathering on the stone steps of the packhouse. SilvaFrost looked beautiful from the outside—pale stone walls, arched windows, banners of white and blue snapping above the entrance.
Beautiful things could hide rot very well.
Storm pressed against my ribs, silent and alert.
Then the scent hit me.
Faint.
Almost hidden beneath smoke, polished wood, pine, and the cold bite of snow-wolf magic.
Frost.
Winter roses.
Old magic.
My fingers curled around the ring hidden beneath my sleeve.
Him.
Not strong enough to follow.
Not fresh enough to catch.
But everywhere.
The masked wolf’s scent clung to SilvaFrost like a secret the walls had been breathing for years.
“Your Majesty,” Alpha Torren said, his voice too smooth, “perhaps my Luna might give you a tour. The packhouse has changed since your last formal visit. We have added new training grounds, a healing wing, and expanded the east hall.”
“How generous,” my mother said.
She looked at me once.
Only once.
To anyone else, it was nothing.
To me, it said: Watch carefully.
Lady Seraphine stepped forward. “I would be delighted to show you, Your Majesty.”
“Wonderful,” my mother said.
Solan started to follow.
Alpha Torren turned to him. “Prince Solan, perhaps my sons can entertain you and the princess while Her Majesty tours the packhouse.”
Callan and Cael appeared near the entrance as if they had been summoned by suspicion.
Callan smiled.
Cael did not.
Solan’s expression brightened in the false, charming way that meant he was annoyed. “How kind. I do love being entertained against my will.”
Callan blinked.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
My mother went with Seraphine. Alpha Torren followed them after one last glance toward the servant corridor.
There.
He had done it again.
Looked toward the halls, no noble guest was meant to notice.
The halls where the scent was strongest.
Callan stepped beside me. “Princess Moona, SilvaFrost is honored by your presence.”
“I can tell,” I said.
His smile faltered, then returned. “Would you like to see the courtyard? Or perhaps the training field?”
“The training field?” Solan asked. “Are you offering to spar with the future queen’s only uncle?”
Callan looked him over. “If His Highness wishes.”
Solan smiled sweetly. “I would hate to embarrass you in your own pack.”
Cael made a sound dangerously close to a laugh.
Callan shot him a look.
While they spoke, I turned slightly, following the scent.
It threaded through the main hall.
Over the stairs.
Past the kitchen door.
Along the servants’ passage.
Everywhere and nowhere.
I took one step toward it.
Callan shifted with me. “The guest parlor is this way, Princess.”
“How fortunate that I am not looking for the guest parlor.”
His eyes narrowed.
Cael stepped in, softer. “There is a garden through the side hall. The frost lilies bloom even in winter.”
I looked at him.
He was trying to redirect me too.
But unlike Callan, he looked worried.
Not for himself.
For someone else.
Interesting.
“I love frost lilies,” I said.
That was a lie.
I liked moon lilies.
But Cael relaxed just enough to prove he wanted me away from the servant corridors.
So I let him guide me toward the side hall.
For now.
The garden was cold and well-kept, with silver shrubs and frozen fountains. Solan distracted Callan by asking increasingly insulting questions disguised as royal curiosity. Cael stayed near me, but not too near.
Then I heard it.
A sharp laugh.
Not happy.
Cruel.
It came from the far side of the garden, past a line of frost-heavy hedges.
Storm lifted her head.
I moved before either twin could stop me.
Behind the hedges, three young pack wolves had cornered a girl carrying a stack of books and folded linens.
She was small but not fragile. Dark-haired, pale-cheeked, with a stubborn set to her chin that made me like her immediately.
One of the girls shoved the stack from her arms.
Books and linens tumbled into the snow.
“Oops,” the bully said. “Clumsy omega.”
The dark-haired girl knelt quickly, gathering the books with shaking hands. “Leave me alone.”
“Or what?” another girl asked. “You’ll tell your brother?”
The first girl laughed. “Maybe he’ll scrub us to death.”
Something cold moved through me.
I stepped out from behind the hedge.
“Does SilvaFrost teach bravery in groups?” I asked.
All three girls froze.
The dark-haired girl looked up, startled.
I kept my crown hidden beneath the hood of my travel cloak, and I had changed from full royal silks into a simpler riding dress before we arrived. I looked noble, but not unmistakably royal from a glance.
Good.
I wanted the truth before fear cleaned everyone’s mouths.
The bully straightened. “This is pack business.”
“Is it?” I looked at the books in the snow. “How educational.”
She swallowed. “We were only joking.”
“Jokes are meant to be funny.”
No one answered.
I smiled.
The princess smile.
The one that made men twice my age remember appointments elsewhere.
“Pick them up.”
The girls stared.
I tilted my head. “Was that unclear?”
They moved fast then.
Books gathered.
Linens brushed off.
Apologies muttered.
When they were gone, the dark-haired girl stood slowly, watching me with suspicion and gratitude fighting across her face.
“You did not have to do that,” she said.
“No,” I agreed. “But I wanted to.”
She clutched the books closer. “They will be worse later.”
“Then I will have to be worse too.”
Her mouth twitched.
Almost a smile.
“I am Moon,” I said.
Not Princess.
Not Moona PentNova.
Just Moon.
She hesitated. “Nara.”
The name settled warmly in my chest for reasons I did not understand.
Nara.
It felt familiar.
- Writer
