Claimed by the Beastly Lycan King

7-The Hidden Note

KAELIRA

Someone already knew about the note.

That thought sat heavy in my chest as Nessa placed the book in my hands with trembling fingers, her eyes darting down the corridor like whoever had grabbed it might come back.

"Did you see their face?" I asked.

"No, my lady, they had a hood pulled low, they were gone before I could scream twice."

I looked down at the book; it was a plain brown cover, worn edges, nothing about it that should make anyone desperate enough to snatch it from a servant's hands in a busy hallway.

"Go back to your quarters," I told Nessa quietly, "and do not tell anyone you gave this to me."

Then she nodded fast and disappeared.

I slipped back into my chambers, locked the door behind me, sat on the edge of the bed and opened straight to chapter twelve.

At first, it looked like a normal, dense old text about Nightbane's early rulers, dates and names that meant nothing to me. I almost thought Lucien had made a fool of me, then my fingers caught the edge of something between the pages. It was thin, folded twice, tucked so flat against the binding I nearly missed it.

A note.

A handwritten, small, careful letter, like whoever wrote it, was afraid of using too much ink.

"What happened between you and the King at that ball was not an accident. It was planned by something far older than both of you. Deep inside the royal archives, there is a prophecy, old enough that it existed before this kingdom even had its current rulers.

That prophecy describes a girl with silver eyes who carries the blood of an ancient Luna line. It says she will either make the Lycan throne unbreakable forever, or she will be the one to destroy it completely.

Your family did not bring you to that ball by accident, either. Someone reached out to them before the ball and made them a promise. They were not told the full truth, only that delivering you to that hall would bring them great reward. That is why your stepmother pushed so hard.

The King is not innocent in this. He has read that prophecy. He has known for years that his fated mate would come from that specific bloodline. He knew what he was looking for before he ever walked through those ballroom doors.

Ask him what he knew before he saw your face that night, and ask him if any of it was truly fate, or if it was simply a very old plan finally falling into place".

I read it three times.

Then I sat very still and felt something cold spread through my whole chest.

Ronan had known.

He had stood in that ballroom and acted like the bond was a surprise, like fate had simply reached down and grabbed him, like he was just as shocked as I was, and this note was saying he had read a prophecy about me, about my bloodline, long before that night.

I was on my feet before I decided to move.

His study was two corridors away, and his guard stepped aside the moment he saw my face, smart man.

Then, I pushed the door open without knocking…

Ronan looked up from his desk, took one look at me and slowly set down his pen. "Kaelira."

"Don't." I crossed the room and put the note flat on the desk in front of him, pressing my finger down on it. "Read it."

He looked at it, his expression did not change, not even a flicker, and that stillness told me everything before he opened his mouth.

"Where did you get this?" He asked.

"Chapter twelve," I said, "as Lucien told me, now answer the question, did you know about a prophecy before the ball?"

"It is not that simple." He said.

"Yes or no, Ronan."

His jaw shifted. "I knew a prophecy existed."

The floor felt like it tilted slightly under my feet. "About me specifically?"

"About a bloodline," he said carefully, "silver eyes, Luna descent, I did not know your name, I did not know your face."

"But you knew your mate would come from that line."

He stood, slowly. "Kaelira, every Lycan King before me has read that prophecy; it is part of the royal archives, it is not something I chose to believe or act on."

"But you went to that ball every year," I said, my voice climbing despite myself. "Year after year you stood in that room, you scanned every face, and you never chose anyone, because you were looking, weren't you, you were waiting for her."

"I was waiting for my mate." He said.

"For the girl in the prophecy?"

"They are the same person." He said.

"That is not the point." I stepped back from him because I needed air that did not smell like cedar smoke. "You stood there and let me believe the bond was something neither of us expected, you let me think fate just picked us without warning, you never once told me you had been searching for a girl matching my description for years."

"I was not searching for you." he said calmly.

"You were searching for what I am," I shouted.

Then, he went quiet, and that quiet was its own kind of answer.

I picked the note up off his desk and walked out before he could say anything else that would make me feel worse.

The rest of the afternoon, I spent in my room, sitting by the window, turning the note over in my hands, trying to decide if Lucien had planted it to break my trust in Ronan or if it was the truest thing anyone in this palace had ever handed me. The problem was that I could not figure out which possibility frightened me more.

By evening, I was restless enough to walk the garden path just outside the east wing, my two new guards trailing at a careful distance, the night air cool against my face.

I heard her before I saw her.

"You look tired, little Vale."

Selene stepped out from between two hedges like she had been waiting there the whole time, dressed in deep red, her dark hair loose, her smile wide and sweet and empty.

I stopped walking. "Selene," I said

"Enjoying the gardens?" She clasped her hands together pleasantly. "I always found them lovely this time of evening."

"What do you want?" I asked

She tilted her head like the question genuinely amused her. "Nothing at all, I only wanted to offer my congratulations, it must be wonderful being chosen by a king."

"You do not mean that," I said

"No," she agreed, smiling without moving an inch, "I do not, but manners cost nothing." She stepped closer, dropping her voice to something soft and almost kind. "Enjoy the crown while it lasts, little Vale."

I held her gaze. "Is that a threat?"

Her smile widened. "It is advice, crowns here come with graves, every woman before you learned that eventually." She stepped back, smoothing her skirts. "Sleep well."

Then she walked away through the hedges and disappeared as if she had never been there.

I stood for a moment with my pulse thudding in my throat, then turned and walked back toward my chambers, faster than I meant to.

My guard opened my door, I stepped inside, crossed to the window for air, and stopped.

On the windowsill, laid out with horrible neatness, was a bird, small, dark, feathered, throat slit clean.

And tied around its neck, with a careful little bow, was a ribbon cut from the hem of my silver gown.

I pressed my hand over my mouth slowly, my eyes moving from the bird to the gown hanging on the far wall, the ribbon was gone from the hem, a clean cut, neat and deliberate, and I had been in this room all evening, I had sat on that bed, walked to that desk, stood by that window, and I had not heard a single thing.