The Midnight Prince

The Successful Plan

The Midnight Prince

Future Ashen-Dorian POV

Real silence.

Hungry silence.

Dorian lowered his head as if the words pained him.

Inside, he smiled.

Solan stepped forward. “Convenient.”

Dorian did not look up.

“What is convenient, Your Highness?”

“A prophecy appearing after my niece goes missing.”

Varric’s fingers tightened around the parchment.

Dorian lifted his head slowly.

“I understand your doubt. Truly, I do. If I stood in your place, I might doubt me as well.”

Solan’s mouth curled. “I doubt that.”

A few nobles shifted.

Dorian let the insult pass over him like rain.

“But I cannot let pride silence truth while Princess Moona suffers.” He turned to the king. “Ashen discovered what I had hoped to keep private until your daughter could speak for herself.”

Queen Selene’s voice was cold. “And what is that?”

Dorian placed one hand over his heart.

“Princess Moona is my fated mate.”

This time, the court did not erupt.

It inhaled.

One great, terrible breath.

The king’s face drained of color.

The queen did not move.

Solan laughed once.

It was not a happy sound.

“You expect us to believe Moon found her fated mate and said nothing?”

Dorian looked at him with sorrow.

“No. I expect you to believe she was taken before she could.”

“By Ashen.”

“Yes.”

“Because?”

Dorian turned just enough for the room to see his profile, the bandage at his temple, the bruising on his jaw.

“Because the boy desired what was not his.”

A noblewoman gasped.

Dorian continued before doubt could return.

“He hid behind weakness. Behind silence. Behind the pity of those who thought him harmless. He wore the face of an omega while practicing magic no omega should possess. He entered the ball masked. He gained access to the princess. He discovered the truth of my bond with her and took her before dawn could reveal what the Moon Goddess had chosen.”

Torren looked as if he might vomit.

Seraphine clutched his arm.

Callan stepped forward, voice tight. “My brother has always been… unstable.”

Dorian almost rolled his eyes.

Too eager.

Callan had the subtlety of a kicked door.

Still, the court listened.

“He resented his position,” Callan continued. “He hated our family. He disappeared the same night the princess did. My sister is gone too. He has taken her with him.”

That part was useful.

A stolen sister made Ashen look cruel.

A runaway sister made the family look guilty.

Dorian preferred the first.

Varric lifted the parchment higher.

“The prophecy warns of a false wolf crowned in moonlight.”

Queen Selene spoke then.

“And you believe Ashen Drakewood is this false wolf because Dorian Calder says so?”

Varric’s mouth tightened.

“No, Your Majesty.”

Dorian waited.

Varric looked at him for the briefest second.

Then away.

“Because the signs point to him.”

“Signs can be arranged,” Solan said.

Dorian turned to him. “Then ask for proof.”

The room froze.

Solan’s brows lifted.

Dorian faced the king and queen fully.

“I did not want this revealed like a court spectacle. The Moon Goddess deserves reverence, not performance. But if proof is required to save Moon, then I will give what I can.”

The witch stood among the healers near the side wall, eyes lowered.

Dorian felt the spell before anyone saw it.

A cold burn under his skin.

False moonlight crawling through his blood.

Pain lanced across his ribs.

He did not flinch.

The air around him turned silver-white.

Gasps burst across the throne room.

Dorian lowered his head as if overcome.

Behind him, a pale wolf-shadow unfolded.

Tall.

Radiant.

Beautiful.

A lie made holy.

Frost-like light curled around his shoulders and hands. His eyes glowed pale. The white aura pulsed once, filling the room with a pressure that looked sacred if one did not know what sacred truly felt like.

Dorian did not.

The court did not either.

They believed.

Some bowed their heads.

Others stepped back in awe.

Varric whispered, “The White Wolf.”

The words shook.

Whether from fear or guilt, Dorian did not care.

King Aric stared.

Queen Selene’s eyes narrowed.

Solan watched the light with a frown.

He felt it, then.

The imperfection.

The cold that was not cold.

The moonlight that did not warm.

The frost that did not breathe.

Dorian saw suspicion sharpen in his face.

So he ended the display before the minute finished.

The white aura flickered and vanished.

Dorian swayed.

Not entirely fake. The witch’s spell hurt more than expected.

He let one knee strike the floor.

A perfect image.

Burdened destiny.

Sacrifice.

Noble pain.

“My apologies,” he said hoarsely. “The sign is not mine to command.”

A murmur of approval moved through the room.

Solan’s mouth tightened.

Dorian looked at him, gentle as poison.

“The Goddess reveals what she wills. I cannot summon her sign like a trick for court amusement.”

That silenced half the room and shamed the other half into pretending they had not wanted more.

Varric turned to the throne.

“Your Majesties, the council must act. If Ashen Drakewood has taken the princess, and if he is the false wolf named by prophecy, then delay endangers not only Princess Moona, but the throne itself.”

The king’s jaw worked.

The queen looked at Varric like she might peel his soul from his body and read the rot beneath.

“What does the council propose?” King Aric asked.

Dorian rose slowly.

This was the moment.

The seed planted.

The blade offered.

Now the court would place it in his hand and thank him for the blood.

“Recover Princess Moona alive,” Dorian said. “At all costs.”

A few nobles nodded.

“Ashen Drakewood is to be named traitor until proven otherwise.”

More nods.

“Any rogue attack from this moment forward should be investigated as part of his rebellion.”

The word did its work.

Rebellion.

Bigger than kidnapping.

Bigger than jealousy.

A threat to everyone in the room.

“And if Ashen is found?” Solan asked.

Dorian turned to him.

He let reluctance pass over his face.

Then grief.

Then duty.

“If he surrenders, he should be brought before the crown.”

Varric’s shoulders loosened slightly.

Dorian smiled inside.

Fool.

“But if he resists,” Dorian continued, “then he must be treated as what he is.”

Queen Selene’s voice cut through the room.

“And what is that?”

Dorian bowed his head.

“A threat to LunariaNova.”

The court swallowed the words whole.

Fear had done its work.

Varric looked as if he might be sick.

Solan looked ready to draw a blade.

The king looked like a father whose child was somewhere in the dark.

And Queen Selene…

Queen Selene looked at Dorian as if she had not believed a single word.

That was fine.

Queens needed proof too.

And by the time she found it, Dorian intended for Ashen Drakewood to be too dead to defend himself.

The council began to murmur around Varric, voices rising like wind before a storm.

Hunt him.

Find the princess.

Question SilvaFrost.

Search the northern roads.

Send trackers.

Send guards.

Send bounty wolves.

Dorian turned his gaze toward the great map of LunariaNova hanging beside the throne.

Forests.

Mountains.

Frozen rivers.

Border packs.

So many places for a frightened boy to run.

So many places to die.

He stepped closer to the map and pressed one finger near the northern woods.

By sunrise, the kingdom would not be searching for a missing omega.

It would be hunting a monster.

And monsters, Dorian knew, were so much easier to kill.