**Aria**
I dreamed of silver light and screaming.
In the dream, I was five years old again, hiding under my bed while the world ended outside my window. My mother's face appeared upside down, her silver hair falling like a curtain.
"Listen carefully, my little moon," she said, and her voice was exactly how I remembered—soft and musical, like bells. "This will hurt, but it will keep you safe."
"Mommy, I'm scared," dream-me whispered.
"I know, baby. But you're special. So special that bad people want to hurt you. This spell will hide you until you're strong enough to protect yourself."
Her hands glowed with silver light as she pressed them to my forehead. It felt like ice and fire at the same time.
"When you wake up, you'll be different. You'll look different, feel different. You won't remember much. But when the time comes—when you find your true mate or when the spell is broken—you'll remember everything."
"I don't want to forget you!"
"You won't, not really. I'll always be with you, my little moon. In your dreams, in your heart. And one day, you'll understand why we had to do this."
The scene shifted. Now I was watching from outside my body as my mother carried a small girl through burning hallways. The girl's silver hair was already turning brown, her glowing skin dimming to ordinary pale.
"Protect her," my mother said to someone I couldn't see. "Hide her where no one would think to look. Make them think she's weak."
"The Shadow Creek Pack?" a gravelly voice asked. "That's Marcus's territory. He's allied with—"
"I know who he's allied with," my mother snapped. "That's exactly why she'll be safe there. They'd never expect us to hide her right under their noses."
The dream shifted again. Now I was older, maybe ten, scrubbing floors while other children played. Stella appeared, younger, offering me half her lunch.
"You're not really weak," dream-Stella said, except it wasn't Stella's voice. It was my mother's. "You're the strongest person I know. You just don't remember yet."
"Mom?" I asked in the dream.
"Wake up, little moon. It's time to remember who you really are."
My eyes snapped open.
I was lying on the softest bed I'd ever felt, covered in black silk sheets that probably cost more than I'd ever see in my lifetime. The room was huge—bigger than the entire servant's quarters—with dark wood furniture and windows covered by heavy curtains.
And sitting in a chair beside the bed, reading a book, was King Raven.
"You're awake," he said without looking up. "How do you feel?"
How did I feel? Like someone had taken me apart and put me back together wrong. Everything was too bright, too loud, too... much. I could hear conversations happening three floors down. I could smell every person who'd been in this room in the last week. And my skin...
I looked at my hands and gasped. They were glowing. Not obviously, but there was definitely a soft silver shimmer to them, like moonlight on water.
"What happened to me?" I asked, then froze. My voice was different. Still mine, but richer somehow, with an undertone that made it sound almost musical.
"Your concealment spell broke," King Raven said, finally looking at me. His golden eyes were unreadable. "Rather dramatically, I might add. You destroyed every window in the east wing and knocked twelve guards unconscious with the power wave."
"I—what?! Is everyone okay?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You're concerned about the guards who were chasing you?"
"They were just doing their job." I sat up, then immediately regretted it as the room spun. "Oh, that's not fun."
"Thirteen years of suppressed power finally releasing itself rarely is." He stood and poured water from a pitcher on the nightstand. "Drink. You've been unconscious for three days."
"THREE DAYS?!" I shrieked, then covered my mouth. "Sorry. Three days?"
"Your body needs time to adjust. You're lucky you survived at all. Concealment spells that are powerful usually kill the subject if they're broken incorrectly."
I took the water with shaking hands and drank deeply. It tasted better than any water I'd ever had, which was weird. Could water even taste better?
"So," King Raven said, returning to his chair, "are you ready to tell me who you really are, Princess Lunaria?"
I choked on the water, spraying it everywhere. "WHAT?!"
"Your reaction rather confirms it," he said dryly. "Though the silver hair was a significant clue as well."
Silver hair? I grabbed a strand of my hair and pulled it forward. Gone was the muddy brown I'd known my whole life. In its place was hair that looked like spun moonlight—silver with hints of blue and white that shifted when it moved.
"Oh my god," I breathed. "Oh my god, it's real. The dreams were real."
"You're the lost princess of the Moonstone Kingdom," King Raven said. "Daughter of Alpha King Artemis and the celestial witch Queen Selena. Supposedly killed in the attack thirteen years ago along with your parents."
"My aunt," I said, memories flooding back properly now. "My aunt Morgana led the attack. She wanted the throne. She... she killed them."
"And you've been hiding as an omega servant in the Shadow Creek Pack ever since." He leaned forward. "Rather clever, actually. Marcus was one of your father's allies, but he was always jealous of the Moonstone Kingdom's power. No one would think to look for you there."
I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to process everything. I wasn't Luna the omega servant. I was Princess Lunaria, heir to a destroyed kingdom. My parents weren't random wolves—they were royalty. And I wasn't weak—I was...
"What am I?" I asked. "The memories are all jumbled. I know I'm not just a wolf, but—"
"You're a hybrid," King Raven said. "Half celestial witch, half alpha wolf. One of the last of your kind. The Moonstone Kingdom was the only place where wolves and witches lived in harmony, creating children with both powers. Your aunt destroyed it because she feared what you might become."
"But I don't have any powers," I protested. "I can barely shift! My wolf is—" I paused, reaching for my wolf. She was there, stronger than ever, practically purring with contentment. *Hello, little moon. I've missed you.*
"Your powers were bound by the spell," King Raven explained. "Now they're free. You'll need training to control them, of course. Raw power without control is dangerous."
"Why are you helping me?" I asked suddenly. "You don't even know me."
Something flashed across his face—an expression I couldn't read. "I have my reasons."
Before I could ask what that meant, there was a knock at the door.
"Enter," King Raven called.
A young woman came in carrying a tray of food. She had kind eyes and a warm smile, but she carefully avoided looking directly at King Raven. "Breakfast, Your Majesty. And for your... guest."
"Thank you, Marie."
She set the tray down and hurried out. I noticed she'd brought two servings of everything.
"Your pack seems scared of you," I observed.
"They have reason to be." His voice was flat, emotionless.
"The curse," I said without thinking, then slapped my hand over my mouth. "Sorry, I shouldn't—"
"You know about that?" He seemed genuinely surprised.
"Everyone whispers about it. The Cursed Alpha who banned mirrors from his territory. Some say you're hideously scarred. Others say you turn into a monster during the full moon. One girl insisted you were actually three wolves in a trench coat, which seemed unlikely."
To my shock, he laughed. It was rusty, like he hadn't done it in a while, but it was real.
"Three wolves in a trench coat? That's creative." His smile faded. "The truth is both simpler and more complicated. I see things in reflections. Things that aren't really there. Or perhaps things that are too real to be seen normally."
"Like what?"
He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. Then: "Myself. My true self. The monster I really am."
"You're not a monster," I said automatically. "You saved me. Monsters don't do that."
"You don't know what I've done."
"And you don't know what I've done either," I shot back. "We all have darkness in our past. That doesn't make us monsters."
He stared at me with those golden eyes, and I felt that strange pull again. Not like with Prince Zander—that had been urgent and desperate. This was softer, warmer, like coming home after a long journey.
"You should eat," he said finally, gesturing to the tray. "Then we need to discuss what happens next."
I reached for the food, then froze. "Wait. If everyone thinks I'm dead, and my kingdom is destroyed, what am I supposed to do? I can't go back to being a servant, but I can't exactly announce to the world that I'm a lost princess either."
"Why not?"
"Because my aunt will come for me! She killed my parents to get the throne. If she finds out I'm alive—"
"She already knows."
I dropped the piece of bread I'd just picked up. "What?"
King Raven pulled a letter from his jacket. The wax seal was black with a silver moon—the symbol of the Moonstone Kingdom, but corrupted somehow.
"This arrived this morning," he said. "Addressed to 'the lost princess hiding in plain sight.'"
With trembling hands, I took the letter and opened it. The handwriting was elegant but sharp, like daggers pretending to be flowers.
*My dearest niece,*
*How wonderful to learn you survived after all these years. Your mother always was clever with her spells. I should have known she'd hide you somewhere obvious.*
*I'm sure you're confused, frightened, perhaps even angry. That's understandable. You've been living a lie for so long, you've probably forgotten the truth. But blood calls to blood, and power calls to power.*
*You have something that belongs to me—your birthright, your power, your very existence. I've spent thirteen years consolidating my rule over the Moonstone territories, but it will never be complete while you live.*
*So I offer you a choice: Come home. Kneel before me. Surrender your powers willingly, and I'll let you live as my heir, properly controlled, of course. Or hide like the coward your parents raised you to be, and watch as I destroy everyone who helps you, starting with that cursed king you're currently cowering behind.*
*You have until the Blood Moon—one month from now—to decide.*
*Your loving aunt,*
*Queen Morgana*
I crumpled the letter in my fist, fury replacing fear. "She threatens you. She doesn't even know you, and she threatens you."
"I'm not afraid of Morgana," King Raven said calmly.
"Well, I am!" I stood up, pacing the room. "She killed my parents! She has an entire kingdom's army! And I have what—suppressed powers I don't know how to use and a wolf who's been asleep for thirteen years?"
"You have more than that."
I whirled to face him. "Like what?"
"Like me."
The simple statement stopped me cold. "Why?" I asked. "Why would you stand against her for me? You barely know me."
He stood as well, moving closer. This near, I could smell him properly—dark forests and winter nights and something else, something that made my wolf very, very interested.
"Because," he said softly, "you're my second-chance mate."
The world tilted. I grabbed the bedpost to stay upright. "That's—that's not possible. Prince Zander—"
"Rejected you, breaking your first mate bond. The Moon Goddess sometimes grants second chances to those whose first mates reject them." He moved even closer, and I could feel heat radiating from him. "I felt it the moment your true scent was revealed. You did too, didn't you?"
I had. That pull, that warmth, that feeling of home. But...
"You don't even know me," I whispered.
"Then we'll learn." His hand came up to cup my cheek, and sparks danced across my skin at the contact. "If you'll let me."
I should say no. I should run. I'd just been rejected three days ago, found out I was a lost princess, and learned my evil aunt wanted me dead. Adding a second-chance mate—a cursed king, no less—to the mix seemed like asking for trouble.
But when I looked into those golden eyes, I saw something I recognized: loneliness. The same loneliness I'd carried for thirteen years.
"Okay," I said. "But I need to learn to fight. If my aunt wants a war, I need to be ready."
"Then we'll make you ready." His thumb stroked my cheek, and I shivered. "You're not alone anymore, little moon."
"Don't call me that," I said automatically, then froze. "Wait. How did you know my mother called me that?"
He smiled, and for the first time, it reached his eyes. "You talk in your sleep."
—