Kael’s POV

The garden was quiet except for the sound of crickets and the clink of glass.

The moonlight spilled over the stone path, silvering the edges of the roses. I leaned back against the bench, a half-empty bottle between me and Rael.

"Everything’s different now," Rael said, swirling his drink lazily. "You felt it too."

I didn’t answer right away. That scent—wild, warm, and maddening—still lingered in my head. I’d tried drowning it with wine, but it was stubborn. "I felt… something."

Rael grinned. "Something? You were staring like you’d just seen the moon turn gold. And all for Aurora.

"She’s… beautiful," I admitted, though the word felt too small.

Rael chuckled. "Careful, brother. You might fall in love before you even speak two words to her."

I shot him a look. "Says the one who nearly tripped over his own feet when she smiled at you."

"At least I can talk to women," he teased, tipping his glass toward me. "You just brood and glare until they walk away."

"Better than falling for every pretty face in the palace."

“Not every face. Just the interesting ones.” His eyes caught the light as he grinned. “Look at that, my brother can talk about a woman without choking. Miracles do happen.”

"I scowled. “I don’t choke.”

“You do. Remember that banquet two years ago? The Nightveil princess smiled at you and you dropped your goblet.”

“That was because you kicked me under the table.”

“Sure, brother. Blame me.” His eyes gleamed. “So, who’s claiming her? You or me?”

I let out a dry laugh. “As if you’d stand a chance.”

“Please. She’d be bored with you in a week.”

“She wouldn’t survive your ego that long.”

We were still trading jabs when soft footsteps crunched over the gravel path. We both turned.

**

Aurora stepped into the moonlight, wearing a pale gown that shimmered faintly as she moved with that deliberate grace of someone who knew every eye was on her even when she pretended otherwise

That same maddening scent brushed against my senses again, faint but unmistakable, like the ghost of something I couldn’t forget. It stirred my wolf, sharp and restless, the way it had earlier tonight.

“Your Highnesses,” she greeted, her voice smooth as silk. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Rael straightened, a shade too fast. “We were enjoying the peace.”

“And the flowers,” I added, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.

Her gaze lingered on me a moment too long. “I was told the gardens are best enjoyed with company.” She stepped closer, the scent curling faintly in the cool night air.

It wasn’t as strong as before. Not clinging to her skin the way I’d imagined it would. But my wolf didn’t care—instinct screamed the answer, and reason had no room to speak.

For a moment, it was just the three of us, the air thick with something I couldn’t name.

Rael spoke first. “Perhaps you’d like a tour, Princess?”

“I’d like that,” she said, though her eyes never left mine.

**

Liah’s POV

It was dark. Cold.

The forest stretched around me, black and endless, the moonlight slicing through the branches in thin, broken pieces.

My hand was small again, in my mother’s, she was walking fast, almost dragging me.

“Mom, slow down,” I said, trying to keep up.

“We can’t,” she said without looking at me. “We’re going to see Fiona. She’s waiting for us.”

Fiona. My mother’s friend. A witch, though no one ever said it out loud. I’d only met her once, and even then, I wasn’t sure if I’d dreamed her.

“Why at night?” I asked.

“It’s safer,” my mom said, but her voice didn’t match her words. It was tight, clipped. Her grip on my hand felt like iron.

The trees got thicker as we walked. Moonlight broke through the leaves in thin lines. Every sound felt louder—the snap of twigs, the whistle of the wind.

Then I heard it. Voices.

Two figures stepped out from the shadows ahead. They were guys — maybe nineteen or twenty. But the way they looked at me made my stomach twist.

“Well, what do we have here?” the thinner one said. His eyes flicked from my mom to me.

My mother stepped in front of me. “We’re just passing through. Let us by.”

The other grinned. “Pretty late for a stroll. Especially with a girl like that.”

“Don’t,” my mom warned, her voice sharp now.

The first one moved closer, ignoring her. His gaze locked on me, slow and deliberate, like he was already imagining things that made my skin crawl.

The other moved behind my mom. Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed her arms and pulled her back. She fought, but he was stronger.

“Run, Liah!” she shouted.

I didn’t run. I couldn’t. My legs felt nailed to the ground.

The first one’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was hot, sweaty, and crushing. I yanked, kicked, but he only laughed.

“Stop!” my mom screamed, trying to twist free.

“Don’t you touch her!” Her voice cracked.

Something hard was in my hand — a rock. I didn’t remember picking it up. My heart pounded.

I swung.

It hit the side of his head with a dull thud. He grunted, stumbling back, his grip loosening..

I froze, my breath coming in sharp gasps. My hands shook so badly the rock almost slipped from my fingers.

The other boy let go of my mom and lunged for me. I stepped back, my heel caught on a root, and I went down hard.

My head hit the ground onto a hard rock with a blinding flash of pain.

Everything went muffled, like I was underwater. My vision blurred, then cleared just enough to see… me.

I was lying there, eyes open, not breathing. Blood pooled beneath my head.

Dead.

My mom dropped to her knees beside me, her hands on my face, shaking me, sobbing my name.

“Wake up, baby… please, wake up!”

I wanted to move, to tell her I was fine, but my body wouldn’t respond. My chest wouldn’t rise.

Her tears fell on my skin, warm and desperate. The forest tilted, shadows closing in.

And then

**

I woke.

My body jolted upright, my heart pounded so hard it hurt. My nightdress clung to my skin, damp with sweat.

I pressed my hands to my face. They were shaking. My breath came in short, sharp bursts.

It was just a dream, I told myself. Just a dream.

But it hadn’t felt like one, or was it a memory?

The smell of wet leaves still lingered in my room. The cold still clung to my skin. I could still feel the rock in my hand, the awful weight of it, the way it hit.

And the look on my mother’s face… I’d never seen her so helpless.

I curled my knees to my chest, trying to shake the feeling, but it stayed.

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

why did it feel like I had really died?