ARIA NIGHTINGALE

My legs felt like they might give out beneath me. The journey to the castle had been brutal. Days of walking on rough roads, sleeping on hard ground, and eating whatever scraps Constance deemed worthy of sharing. My dress was torn at the hem, dirt caked under my fingernails, and I was sure my hair looked like a bird's nest.

The other girls looked just as bad. We were a sorry sight trailing behind Constance through the massive gates of the castle. The stone walls towered above us, casting long shadows that made me shiver despite the warm afternoon sun.

I wanted to keep my mouth shut. Really, I did. But the question had been burning in my throat for miles. For days.

"Constance," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to ask, but I thought I was going to be the only servant."

She turned to look at me, her weathered face pinched with irritation. "What?"

"There are six of us. I thought you said you only needed one servant girl."

Constance's laugh was harsh. "Not all of them are servants, child."

My stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

"Some of them serve other purposes."

I glanced at the other girls walking beside me. They all looked young, all looked scared. "Like what?"

"Royal courtesans."

Heat flooded my cheeks. I knew what that meant, even if I'd never spoken the word aloud. "But that's not me, right?"

"Of course not." Constance waved her hand dismissively. "You're here for servant work. So are two other girls out of you six. Just keep your head down and do your job."

I nodded quickly, relief washing over me. Servant work I could handle. I'd been doing it my whole life. But the other thing... I pushed the thought away.

We continued through the castle grounds, our footsteps echoing off the cobblestones. Everything was so big, so grand. The windows were taller than entire houses back in my village. Golden banners hung from the walls, displaying symbols I didn't recognize.

The great hall doors were enormous. It took two guards to pull them open for us. Inside, the ceiling stretched so high I had to crane my neck to see it. Tapestries covered the walls, and the floor was made of polished marble that reflected our shabby group like a mirror.

"You three should stay here," Constance said, pointing at me and two other girls. "Guards will stay with you while I see the Queen."

Three guards positioned themselves near us, their armor gleaming. They looked bored, like babysitting servant girls was beneath them. Constance disappeared through another set of doors with the remaining three girls.

I stood where she'd left me, hands folded in front of me, trying to look invisible. The guards were talking among themselves about some training exercise. Their voices echoed in the vast space.

That's when I saw it.

Through the tall windows on the far side of the hall, I caught a glimpse of the gardens. They were beautiful, full of flowers I'd never seen before. But it wasn't the elaborate landscaping that caught my attention.

It was a flash of orange and red blooms tucked between the more common roses and lilies. My heart skipped.

Parrot's Beak.

I'd only read about it in the old herbalism books my grandmother had left me. It was supposed to be incredibly rare, worth more than most people made in a year. The books described it as having healing properties unlike any other plant, but they also said it was dangerous if not handled properly.

I'd dreamed of seeing one my entire life.

The guards were still talking, paying no attention to us three girls. One of them was telling a story about a tavern fight, gesturing wildly with his hands. The other two were laughing.

I took a small step toward the windows. Then another. They didn't notice.

My curiosity was stronger than my common sense. It always had been. While Grandmother was alive, she used to say it would get me into trouble someday.

I slipped away from the group, moving quietly along the wall until I reached a side door that led outside. The guards' laughter covered the sound of the latch clicking open.

The gardens were even more beautiful up close. Roses climbed trellises, their petals perfect and full. Jasmine spilled over stone walkways, filling the air with sweetness. But I only had eyes for one plant.

There it was. Parrot's Beak, growing in a carefully tended bed near a marble fountain. The blooms were exactly like the illustrations in grandmother's books. Curved petals in brilliant orange and red, shaped like a bird's beak. They seemed to glow in the afternoon sunlight.

I knelt beside the plant, hardly believing I was seeing it in person. My fingers hovered over the flowers, not quite brave enough to touch them yet. The books had warned about handling them carelessly.

But I couldn't resist forever.

I reached out and gently touched one of the blooms. The petals were softer than I'd expected, like silk. I cupped the flower in my palm and leaned closer to smell it.

The scent hit me like a shock.

This wasn't what the books had described at all. They'd said Parrot's Beak had a sweet, honey-like fragrance. But this... this was something else entirely. It was spicy and sweet, yes, but underneath those notes was something that made my nose wrinkle.

It smelled like ash. Like jasmine burning.

The combination was strange but not unpleasant. It reminded me of something I couldn't quite place, like a memory just out of reach.

I breathed it in again, trying to understand why it was so different from what I'd expected. Maybe the books had been wrong. Or maybe this particular plant was special in some way.

I was so lost in the scent that I didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late.

Someone was walking toward me at full speed. I looked up just in time to see a man bearing down on me, a walking stick in his hand. He looked like he was chasing something, or running from something.

He didn't see me. I was not sure why but he did not see me.

We collided with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs. I went down hard, my back hitting the stone path with a painful thud. The man landed on top of me, his weight pinning me to the ground.

That burning sweet smell filled my nostrils again, stronger than before. But now it wasn't coming from the flower. I don’t think it ever did. It was coming from him.

Something deep in my chest whispered a word I didn't understand.

Mate.

The voice wasn't mine. It came from somewhere else, somewhere wild and instinctive that I'd never accessed before. My wolf. It made my heart race and my skin feel too tight.

I tried to move, to scurry out from under him, but he pressed his hands against the ground on either side of my shoulders. His grip was firm but not painful.

"Don't move," he whispered.

I froze. There was something in his voice, something desperate and wondering that made me forget to be afraid. He was staring down at me with the most intense eyes I'd ever seen. They were pale, almost silver at first, but as they studied my face, a shimmer of gold began to bloom in their depths, like sunlight seeping through storm clouds. And they seemed to be drinking in every detail of my face.

His clothes were elaborate. Rich fabric in deep blues and blacks, with silver threads that caught the light. And there, embroidered on his chest, was a symbol I recognized from the banners hanging throughout the castle.

The royal crest.

My blood turned to ice water. This was a member of the royal family. And I was lying beneath him in the garden like some common tavern wench.

"Who are you?" he breathed.

I opened my mouth to answer but no sound came out. My throat had closed up completely. He was so close I could see the flecks of gold consume his eyes completely, I could feel his breath on my face. Were my eyes playing tricks on me?

"Please," I finally managed to whisper. "Let me up."

But he didn't move. If anything, he seemed to settle more firmly on top of me, like he was afraid I might disappear if he loosened his grip.

"What's your name?" he asked instead.

I looked around desperately, hoping someone might come help me. But the gardens were empty except for us. The guards back in the great hall probably hadn't even noticed I was gone yet.

"Aria," I said quietly. "My name is Aria."

He repeated it back to me, and something in the way he said it made my stomach flutter. Like my name was something precious he was trying to memorize.

"Aria," he said again. "I'm Draven."

The name hit me like a punch to the guts. Draven. Prince Draven. The cursed prince.

I'd heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. The blind prince who was the miracle child of King Kaelen Stormholt. The one they said was cursed by the gods. The one who lived like a prisoner in his own castle.

But he wasn't blind. No… This man was looking right at me, seeing me clearly. His eyes tracked across my face like he was cataloging every feature.

"Your Highness," I breathed, and tried again to move away from him.

"Don't." The word came out sharp, almost angry. Then his voice softened. "Please. Just... give me a moment."

A moment for what? To decide what to do with the servant girl who'd been caught smelling flowers from the royal garden? To call the guards and have me thrown in the dungeons?

But he didn't look angry. He looked... amazed. Like he'd never seen anything like me before.

The wild voice in my chest whispered again: Mate.

I didn't know what it meant really, but I knew it was important. I knew it had something to do with the way he was looking at me, the way his scent was making my head spin, the way my whole body seemed to be humming with some kind of electricity I'd never felt before.

"I was just looking at the flower," I said, trying to explain why I was here. "I've never seen a Parrot's Beak before. I didn't mean any harm."

His eyes flicked to the plant beside us, then back to my face. "You know what it is?"

"My grandmother had books about healing plants. I've always been curious about them."

Something flickered in his expression. "Healing plants."

I nodded, not sure why that seemed significant to him. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have wandered off. Lady Constance told me to stay in the great hall, but I saw the flower and I couldn't help myself."

"Constance brought you here?"

"Yes, Your Highness. I'm here to work as a servant." I swallowed hard. "Please don't tell her I left my post. She'll be furious."

He stared at me for a long moment, and I felt like he was seeing straight through me. Like he could read every thought in my head.

"What else do you know about healing?" he asked quietly.

The question surprised me. "Not much, Your Highness. Just what I learned from my grandmother's books. Basic remedies for common ailments."

He was quiet for so long I started to worry he'd changed his mind about letting me go. Then he spoke, and his voice was so soft I almost didn't hear him.

"Can you help someone who's dying?"

The question hit me like a punch to the chest. There was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that made my heart ache.

"I... I don't know, Your Highness. It would depend on what was wrong with them."

He studied my face like he was trying to decide something important. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up off me and stood. He offered me his hand to help me up.

I took it, and the moment our skin touched, that electric feeling shot through me again. He felt it too. I could tell by the way his eyes widened.

"Come with me," he said.

It wasn't really a request. When a prince tells you to come with him, you don't argue. But there was something in his voice that made me want to follow him anyway. Something that made that wild voice in my chest purr with satisfaction.

I brushed the dirt off my skirts and tried to smooth my hair. I probably looked terrible, but there was nothing I could do about it now.

"Where are we going, Your Highness?"

He looked back at me, and for just a moment, I saw something in his eyes that looked almost like amusement.

"To see the Queen."