The Midnight Prince

Say My Name

The Midnight Prince

Ashen



“Did the princess and the cinder boy finally talk?” my daughter asked.

I smiled faintly. “Yes.”

“Was it romantic?” she asked.

My son made a face. “Don’t ask that.”

“It was not romantic at first,” I said.

My daughter looked disappointed.

“It was awkward.”

My son brightened. “That sounds better.”

I looked into the fire, remembering a closed door, a racing heartbeat, and a girl brave enough to step closer even when I did not know how to stay.

“Yes,” I said softly. “It was better.”

The door opened slowly.

Moon stepped inside, then closed it behind her.

That small click of the latch sounded louder than it should have.

I stood near the window with a towel in my hand and damp hair falling over my forehead. I had only managed to pull on trousers before her scent reached me. My shirt still lay folded on the bed. The sweater Nara had chosen sat beside it, untouched.

Moon saw me.

Her heartbeat jumped.

Fast.

Then faster.

Her gaze dropped from my face to my bare chest, to the bruises along my ribs, the healing cuts on my shoulder, the red marks circling my wrists.

Then her face went red.

She turned away so quickly the ends of her dark hair brushed her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I said at once, reaching for the shirt. “I did not realize—”

“No.” Her voice came out too high. She cleared her throat. “No, that’s okay. I just wanted to let you know dinner is ready.”

I pulled the shirt over my head, wincing when the fabric dragged across the cut on my arm.

Moon’s hand was already on the door.

She opened it halfway.

Stopped.

Her shoulders lifted with a breath.

Then she closed it again.

Not fully.

Just enough.

“I forgot,” she said.

I stilled. “Forgot?”

“With everything that happened, I forgot to thank you.”

She turned back around.

Her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes were steady now.

Too steady.

The kind of steady that made it impossible to hide.

She walked closer.

Not too fast.

Not like someone cornering me.

Like someone approaching a wounded animal, she respected enough not to frighten.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for saving me.”

I did not know what to do with the words.

They landed badly.

Not because they were cruel.

Because they were not.

“I didn’t know if you heard me,” she continued. “Or how you heard me. I didn’t even know if I was saying it out loud or only thinking it. But I’m glad you came.”

My throat tightened.

Moon looked down, her fingers twisting lightly in the borrowed skirt Nara had found for her.

“One more second and I would have been…”

She stopped.

She did not finish.

She did not need to.

The image came anyway.

Rogues.

Blood.

Her body in the snow.

Her voice in my mind, thin and breaking.

Help me.

My breath caught.

For a moment, the room was too small.

The walls too close.

The thought of almost not reaching her too sharp.

“You’re welcome, Princess,” I said.

Her eyes lifted.

“Moon.”

I blinked.

She stepped closer. “Call me Moon.”

Her name sat on my tongue like something sacred.

Too soft for my mouth.

Too dangerous for my chest.

“Moon,” I said.

Her heartbeat betrayed her.

It leapt so fast and bright I heard it as clearly as if she had gasped.

A smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it.

She saw.

Her blush deepened.

“That amused you?”

“No.”

“Ashen.”

The way she said my name nearly ruined me.

I lowered my gaze, but I was smiling now. “A little.”

She gave me a look that would have frightened wiser men.

I was beginning to learn I was not wise around her.

Moon took another step closer.

My body tensed.

Not because I wanted her away.

That was the problem.

I did not.

She was near enough now that I could smell the clean warmth of her skin beneath the borrowed clothes. Moonflowers after rain. Soft storm clouds. Night air. Something wild and royal and alive.

My wolf stirred behind the chains inside me.

The movement hurt.

I stepped back before I meant to.

Moon stopped at once.

The smile left her face.

I hated that.

I hated that my first instinct was still to retreat. I hated that she had done nothing wrong, and my body reacted as if closeness itself was a danger.

Girls in SilvaFrost had looked at me before.

I was not stupid.

Cruelty did not make a person blind.

I had seen them stare when I carried wood through the courtyard with my sleeves rolled up. Heard the whispers in the laundry hall. Felt eyes follow me when they thought I was too tired to notice.

But staring from far away was safe.

Approaching me was not.

One girl tried once.

A beta girl named Lysa.

I was fifteen.

She had cornered me near the winter garden with trembling hands and a face so red I thought she had a fever. She told me she liked the way I smiled at Nara. Told me I was kind. Told me she did not care what they called me.

By the next morning, she and her family were gone.

No goodbye.

No explanation.

Only gossip.

Ashen’s bad luck.

The omega jinx.

Girls who looked too long at the bastard boy disappeared.

After that, no one came close.

Not ever again.

Not kindly.

Not without looking over their shoulder first.

So when Moon stepped toward me with gratitude in her eyes and my name in her mouth, my body remembered every lesson SilvaFrost carved into it.

Wanting was dangerous.

Being wanted was worse.

Moon’s expression changed.

Not pity.

I would have hated pity.

This was something quieter.

Her hand lifted slightly, then lowered, as if she had wanted to reach for me but decided not to.

“You’re afraid,” she said.

I looked away. “No.”

“Ashen.”

My name again.

Gentle this time.

Impossible.

“I don’t mean of me,” she said.

I forced a laugh that did not sound like one. “Princesses do not usually frighten me.”

“Liar.”

My mouth twitched despite everything.

She smiled faintly, but it faded just as quickly.

“I felt it,” she whispered.

My eyes returned to hers.

“What?”

“When you stepped back.” Her voice softened. “It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t rejection. It was…” She swallowed.

The room went still.

I did not know what to say.

There were no polite words for a truth like that.

Moon stepped back.

Giving me space.

The ache in my chest grew worse.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I did not mean to push.”

“You didn’t.”

She blinked.

“No,” I said, and the word came sharper than intended. I softened it. “You noticed.”

That mattered.

More than she knew.

Her eyes shone.

Then, because the Moon Goddess had apparently decided the moment needed humiliation, Moon backed up another step and caught the heel of her borrowed shoe on the edge of the rug.

Her arms flew out.

“Oh—”

I moved before thought existed.

One second she was falling backward.

The next, she was in my arms.

My hand braced her lower back. The other caught her wrist. Her body pressed against mine, warm and startled and very much not falling anymore.

Her breath hitched.

Then her heartbeat went wild.

Fast.

Beautifully, terribly fast.

She stared up at me.

I stared down at her.

For one breath, neither of us moved.

Her lips parted.

My hand tightened at her back before I remembered I should let go.

I did not.

Not right away.

Because for the first time, the closeness did not feel like a trap.

It felt like a question.

And her heartbeat had already answered.