The midday sun spilled through the high arched windows of the dining hall, turning the silverware into tiny shards of light. Natalie sat at the long table, surrounded by the low hum of voices, the clink of goblets, and the faint aroma of roasted venison.
She lifted her cup, careful with the movement, but her fingers hesitated when she caught the Alpha's gaze.
Damien was leaning back in his chair, broad shoulders relaxed, yet his storm-grey eyes tracked every motion she made,from the way she cut her meat to the way she set her goblet down. It wasn't a glance born of admiration; it was the watchfulness of a predator studying prey.
Natalie forced herself to hold his stare for a heartbeat before turning to speak to a nearby lady-in-waiting. Her smile came easily, but inside, a tight knot was winding in her stomach.
---
The court session that afternoon was worse.
She stood beside Damien's throne, a picture of poise in her deep-blue gown, while the lords and advisors droned on about trade routes and border patrols.
Then his voice cut through the chamber.
"Tell me, Princess…" the title rolled off his tongue slowly, almost mocking, "how were you trained to handle matters such as these? The Moonblood pack has always been known for its… distinct approach to leadership."
The room went still.
Natalie didn't flinch. "My training was… thorough," she said, letting confidence color her tone. "I was taught diplomacy before I could even ride a horse."
A faint curve appeared at the corner of his lips,not a smile, but the shadow of one. "Is that so? And what of your time in the court? You must have been schooled by the best, given that you were the one chosen."
Her pulse jumped. She kept her chin high. "I had only the best," she lied smoothly.
Something flickered in his eyes sharp, assessing,before he looked away, allowing the next lord to speak.
---
But it didn't stop there.
In the halls, as she crossed the marble floors with her maids, she could feel him somewhere behind her, his presence heavy and unshakable. In the gardens, she glanced over her shoulder to find him standing at the edge of the path, pretending to speak with a guard while his gaze stayed fixed on her.
And then came the whispers.
Behind lace fans, in the shadowed alcoves of the court, voices murmured: "She doesn't speak like the Moonblood princess I heard about…", "They say she's… different. Not what was promised."
Goblets tilted toward lips, eyes glittered with speculation, and still she smiled when passing, pretending not to hear.
---
That night, over a quiet supper, Damien asked her a question about the Moonblood customs of inheritance;something obscure, almost trivial. She answered vaguely, treading the line between truth and fabrication.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Natalie forced herself to sip her wine with elegance, though her fingers tightened on the stem. She could not slip. Not now.
For if Alpha Damien ever learned the truth,that she was not the sister he had been promised,her life in this gilded prison would turn far more dangerous than it already was.
---