Mira's POV
I didn't sleep that night.
How could I? Tomorrow, I would meet the man who could smell lies. The man who would know, the instant he looked at me, that I wasn't Princess Vivienne.
The man who would kill me for it.
I sat by the fire, watching the Northern riders sleep—or pretend to sleep. Their eyes glowed even when closed, like embers ready to burst into flame. Every snap of a branch in the dark forest made me jump. Every howl in the distance made my heart race faster.
When the silver-haired leader finally stood at dawn, I was already awake, shaking from cold and fear.
"We ride hard today, Princess," he said, watching me with those unnatural blue eyes. "No stops. No rest. The King is waiting."
The words felt like a death sentence.
We rode through woods that got stranger with every mile. The trees here were made of black ice, their branches reaching toward us like claws. Frost covered everything—but not normal frost. This frost moved, moving and crawling across the ground like it was alive.
"What is this place?" I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.
The rider next to me heard anyway. "The Shatterwood. Where magic broke the natural world ages ago. Stay on the road, Princess. The things that live between the trees don't distinguish between royalty and food."
As if called by his words, something screamed in the forest. Not an animal scream. Something that sounded almost human, but wrong.
"Frost demons," the silver-haired leader said lightly. "They're always hungry this close to evening. Ride faster."
We did. The horses ran until my legs ached and my hands were numb on the reins. The sun—what little sun entered this gray sky—began to set.
And then, through the trees ahead, I saw it.
The Frostspire Citadel.
It rose from the mountains like a cap of black ice and obsidian. Towers that scraped the sky. Walls that looked cut from a frozen volcano. And at its peak, something moved—something huge with wings that blotted out the dying light.
A dragon.
My horse bucked in fear. I clung to its hair, fighting to stay seated. All the Northern riders were looking up at the circling creature with looks I couldn't read. Respect? Fear? Both?
"The King," one of them whispered. "He's already shifted."
The dragon dove. I screamed, certain it would crash into us, tear us apart with those claws that looked sharp as swords.
But it didn't.
It landed a hundred feet ahead, right in the middle of our path. The ground shook from the collision. Snow burst into the air.
And then the dragon began to change.
I'd read about shifting in those forbidden books, but reading about it and seeing it were totally different things. The huge body shrank, bones cracking and reforming. Wings folded and faded into shoulders. Scales melted into pale skin.
In seconds, where a monster had stood, there was a man.
The most beautiful and scary man I'd ever seen.
He was tall, with hair the color of starlight—so pale it was almost silver. His face looked carved from marble, all sharp lines and cruel beauty. But it was his eyes that froze the breath in my lungs.
Ice blue. Glowing. And looking straight at me with an intensity that made me feel naked, exposed, like he could see every secret I'd ever kept. "Princess Vivienne Castellan." His voice was cold as winter frost. Not loud, but it carried, demanding absolute attention. "You're late."
The silver-haired rider dismounted and bowed deeply. "Forgive us, Your Majesty. The human roads were badly maintained. We came as quickly as—"
"I'm not talking to you, Lysander." The King's eyes never left my face. "I'm talking to my bride."
My bride. Those two words made my stomach drop.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think of anything except those glowing eyes studying me like a predator studying food.
"Get down," the King ordered.
My legs wouldn't work. I sat frozen on my horse like a coward.
Something flashed across his face—annoyance? Anger? In three long strides, he crossed the space between us. Before I could respond, his hands—surprisingly warm despite everything—gripped my waist and lifted me from the saddle like I weighed nothing.
He set me on my feet in the snow. We stood inches apart. This close, I could see silver flecks in his eyes, could feel heat coming from his skin despite the freezing air.
"Look at me," he said softly.
I forced myself to raise my eyes to his.
He stared at me for a long, horrible moment. His nose flared slightly, like he was smelling me. Testing me.
This was it. He knew. He could smell the lie. I was dead.
But then his face changed—not to anger, but to something worse. Confusion.
"You're afraid," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I—I'm sorry, Your Majesty. The journey was—"
"Princess Vivienne wasn't afraid when she visited my court two years ago." His head tilted slightly, studying me like I was a problem he couldn't solve. "She was arrogant. Cruel. She looked at my people like they were dirt beneath her shoes."
My heart hammered. "People change, Your Majesty."
"Not that much." His eyes narrowed. "Not in two years."
He leaned closer, so close I could feel his breath on my face. "What's your name?"
The question hit me like a slap. He knew. Oh God, he knew.
"V-Vivienne," I stammered. "Vivienne Castellan, Your Majesty."
"Liar."
The word hung in the frozen air between us.
My knees went weak. This was it. I was about to die right here, before we even reached the castle. Before I could try to save my mother. Before— "But," the King continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "you'll do."
What?
He stepped back, studying me with those glowing eyes. "The treaty needs a royal bride. It doesn't say which royal bride, does it?" A cold smile touched his lips—more frightening than any snarl. "You're not Princess Vivienne. But you are related to her somehow. I can smell the family blood."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but stand there and shake.
"Here's what's going to happen," the King said, his voice relaxed despite the threat in every word. "You're going to play your role perfectly. You're going to marry me tomorrow as the treaty demands. And you're going to tell me exactly what game your kingdom is playing."
"I—I can't—"
"You can, and you will." He leaned close again, his eyes burning into mine. "Because if you don't, I'll send pieces of you back to your king until he sends me the real princess. Starting with your fingers, then your toes, then—"
"Please," I whispered, tears hot on my frozen face. "My mother. They'll kill my mother if I tell you anything. Please, I'm asking you—"
I saw something flicker in his eyes. Surprise? It vanished quickly.
"Your mother." He said it like he was testing the words. "The humans are holding your mother hostage to ensure your cooperation."
I couldn't answer. Couldn't confirm it. But my quiet and tears said everything.
The King stared at me for another long moment. Then he did something completely unexpected.
He laughed.
It wasn't a warm laugh. It was bitter and cold and full of dark understanding.
"Well, well. Plot twist." He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. "They sent me a sacrifice pawn, not a princess. Someone useless. Someone they expect me to kill."
"Please," I begged again. It was the only word I had left.
"Here's my offer, little liar," he said, his thumb brushing away one of my tears almost gently—but his eyes remained ruthless. "Play along with your lie. Marry me. Don't try to harm me or spy for your kingdom. In return, I won't instantly return you in pieces."
"That's not much of an offer," I said before I could stop myself.
Something like amusement flickered across his face. "No. But it's the only one you're getting." He released my chin and stepped back. "Welcome to the North, little fake princess. Try not to die in the first week."
He turned and walked toward the castle, leaving me standing in the snow, shaking and confused and frightened.
Because I'd expected him to kill me.
Instead, he'd offered me a deal.
And I had no idea if that made things better or infinitely worse.