Chapter 5 A Royal Encounter

The river's song was soft that morning, a gentle lullaby that caressed the edges of the forest. Birds sang in indolent concert, and the mist crawled in delicate fingers across the underbrush. And yet amidst the beauty, I was motionless-broken, battered, and barely breathing.

My skin was pallid, streaked with dirt and blood that had dried. My lips were dry from thirst, and my breathing was like dry leaves in a storm. I had survived the night, but only just. The fever had set in, and my body had no further strength to fight.

I don't remember the sound of hooves clattering or armor glinting through the trees. I don't remember the gasps of shock or the rough-but-gentle hands that reached for me. I only remember the low, commanding voice that sliced through the fog of my unconsciousness.

"She's alive. Barely. We need to get her to the palace. Now."

That voice would later be the lifeline to my survival - but then it was just sound, in and out of a dark dream.

"Who do you think she is?" a second voice asked, young and doubtful.

"I don't know," the first man said, "but look at her-she's a shifter. And she's been attacked.".

Rough fabric wrapped around me, my weight suspended from the cold of the ground. I whined, burrowing into the warmth of the stranger involuntarily. My eyes flickered open for a moment - long enough to see the royal insignia stitched on the cloak that had been wrapped around me. A golden wolf wreathed in flames. The symbol of the High King.

They were not regular soldiers.

They were the king's patrol.

The ride during the night was a blur of jarring pain and muted sound. The scent of leather, metal, and pine filled the air. I was conscious of the tremble of a horse beneath me, the warmth of a soldier's body curved around my back, holding me fast.

"Hold on," he growled once, brushing damp hair from my forehead. "You'll be safe soon."

When I regained consciousness, the world had changed.

The forest had vanished. The cold had vanished. The terror lingered-but subdued, as if someone had wrapped my mind in silky cotton.

I blinked slowly, my eyes adjusting to the soft candlelight. I was in a huge room-high ceilings with carvings, velvet drapes on wide windows, and gold-edged furniture that glittered in the firelight.

I was in bed. A real bed.

Warmth surrounded me-soft pillows, thick blankets, and the light scent of lavender. A gray-haired woman with kind eyes sat beside me, gently laying a cool cloth across my forehead.

"You're safe now, dear," she whispered. "No one will hurt you here."

My lips parted, dry and chapped. "Where. am I?

"The King's palace," she answered, smiling. "You were found by the royal patrol. They brought you here straight away."

The words took a few seconds to sink in. The King's palace?

I sat up too quickly, and the room swirled around me. "I. I shouldn't be here," I breathed, fear creeping up my throat. "I don't belong here."

"You do belong," a deep, unfamiliar voice spoke from behind me.

I stiffened.

The grey-haired woman stood and dropped into a curtsy. "Your Majesty."

The King.

I turned slowly, and there he was.

Tall. Majestic. Dressed in a black tunic with gold thread embroidery that was pulled taut over his broad shoulders. His hair was black as the night, brushed back from a face so heart-stoppingly handsome. But it was his eyes that gave me pause - tempestuous and intense, as if he had the weight of an entire realm at their backs.

He stepped nearer, slow and careful. "You were near death when my men brought you in," he said. "They told me you were being pursued."

I nodded, my throat tightening.

"Do you remember your name?" he asked gently.

"Liana," I whispered.

A spark kindled in his eyes. "Liana," he repeated, as if the name itself were treasure. "Well, Liana. you're safe now. No one will harm you in my house."

"But why help me?" I required, bewilderment weaving through every word. "I'm a. castaway. A rejected mate. I'm nothing."

His expression darkened, but not in anger - in something profound. Sorrow, perhaps. Or understanding.

"You are not nothing," he asserted flatly. "Only fools cast aside what they do not understand. If he rejected you, then he was not worthy of you."

Tears pricked at my eyes. For the first time since Darius's cruel rejection, someone had spoken to me kindly. Without judgment. Without shame.

I looked down at my shaking hands. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

He stepped closer. "Then let me help you find her again."

I looked up slowly, and in that moment - in the midst of firelight, royalty, and a kindness I never expected - something awakened within me.

Not love. Not yet.

But hope.

Hope that maybe. just maybe. I had been brought here for a reason.

That the end Darius provided was the beginning fate had planned all along.