Valerius’s POV

Ten years later.

“Hold still.”

My mother’s fingers worked at my collar, adjusting the silver clasp for the third time. I stood rigid, staring at a point on the wall behind her head while she fussed.

“You keep fidgeting,” she murmured.

“I’m not fidgeting. You keep re-doing it.”

She stepped back. Studied me with those ice-blue eyes—the same ones that stared back at me every morning in the mirror. Her lips curved. Something soft and aching crossed her face.

“My little darling,” she said quietly.

“Mother. I turned eighteen five days ago, and I’m taller than Father now.”

“You’ll always be my little darling. That’s non-negotiable.” She smoothed the front of my ceremonial jacket. Deep black fabric stitched with silver thread. The Nightfire crest over my heart. “You look so much like him. Except the eyes. Those are mine.”

The door opened behind us. My father filled the frame. He was dressed in full imperial regalia, but his expression was loose. Relaxed in a way he rarely showed outside this room.

“The boy has your eyes,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “And your stubbornness. The combination is terrifying.”

“I’m standing right here,” I said.

Father crossed the room and gripped my shoulder. His dark gold eyes—my wolf’s eyes, the ones that apparently made grown men step backward—held mine.

“After more than twenty years ruling this empire,” he said, “your mother and I have earned our rest. Tonight, at the Moon Prayer Ceremony, you find your mate. And then the throne passes to you. That’s the plan.”

“No pressure,” I muttered.

“Enormous pressure, actually. But you can handle it.” He squeezed once, then released me. “You’re ready, son.”

I wasn’t sure about that. But I nodded anyway.

A blur of silver hair shot through the doorway and collided with my side.

“Let me see!” Lyra circled me like a hawk evaluating prey. She was barely thirteen but had the volume of someone twice her size. “Hmm. Brooding. Dark. Terrifying. Classic Valerius.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” She grinned, wicked and bright. “Every girl at the ceremony is going to take one look at your face and run screaming in the opposite direction.”

“Keep it up,” I warned, “and I’ll tell Liam that you were the one who broke his magical gaming console.”

“Lyra,” Mother warned.

“What? It’s true! He scared three children last month just by looking at them. He didn’t even say anything. They just saw his eyes and started crying.”

“They were very small children,” I said flatly.

“They were traumatized!”

“Enough.” Mother placed a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. Then she turned to me. Her voice shifted. Gentle. The same tone she used when she was about to say something she actually meant. “Valerius. Tonight will be overwhelming. Thousands of wolves, all watching you. All expecting something. But when you find your mate—and you will—don’t try to be intimidating. Don’t try to be the Alpha prince. Just be... open. Be gentle.”

“Gentle,” I repeated.

“Your father terrified me the first time we properly met,” she said. “Don’t make the same mistake.”

Father raised an eyebrow. “I was perfectly charming.”

“You growled at a servant for standing too close to me.”

“He was too close.”

“Kaelen.”

“It was a reasonable growl.”

I left them to their familiar bickering and headed for the grand hall.

The Moon Prayer Ceremony was chaos disguised as elegance.

Thousands of wolves packed the palace grounds. The grand hall overflowed. Spilled onto the terraces. Spread across the moonlit gardens like a living tide. Lanterns hung from every surface, casting everything in silver and gold. Music drifted from somewhere I couldn’t identify. Laughter. Voices. The clink of crystal.

Everyone was watching me.

I could feel it. Every set of eyes that tracked my movement through the crowd. The whispers that rippled in my wake.

That’s the Crown Prince.

His wolf is silver-white. Massive. Biggest anyone’s seen in a generation.

Those gold eyes...

I kept my face neutral. Walked steadily. Let my gaze sweep the room the way Father had taught me—calm, assessing, revealing nothing.

Inside, my wolf paced. Restless. Searching.

Mate, he growled. Find mate.

I moved through clusters of noble families. Daughters were presented to me with practiced smiles. Some bold. Some terrified. One actually curtsied so hard she stumbled. I caught her elbow before she fell, said something polite, and moved on.

Nothing.

No pull. No recognition. No fire in my blood.

I searched for twenty minutes with no luck. Every face blurred into the next. My wolf grew more agitated with each passing minute.

I found Lyra near the dessert table, naturally. Liam and Aurora flanked her—the twins barely ten, already conspiring. Liam had chocolate on his chin. Aurora was trying to hide an entire pastry behind her back.

“Any luck?” Lyra asked, not bothering to lower her voice.

“No.”

“Told you. The brooding thing doesn’t work.”

“I’m not brooding. I’m searching.”

“You’re brooding while searching. It’s multitasking.”

I ignored her and kept moving.

An hour later, the crowd thickened. The music swelled. My parents found me near the eastern colonnade. Mother’s expression was carefully neutral. Father’s wasn’t.

“Still alone,” Father observed.

“Astute.”

“The night is young,” Mother said. Her hand touched my arm. Brief. Warm. “Be patient.”

Patient. I was many things. Patient was not among them.

I needed air.

The terrace at the far end of the east wing was mercifully empty. The noise from the celebration dulled to a murmur behind the heavy doors. I stepped to the stone railing and breathed.

The moon hung enormous above the palace. Full and white and ancient. Its light turned the garden below into something from a painting. Silver hedges. Dark paths. Stillness.

My wolf settled slightly. The pressure in my chest eased.

Maybe tonight wasn’t the night. Maybe—

Something slammed into my back.

Not hard. Not an attack. More like a person-sized collision of pure momentum and miscalculation.

Glass shattered against the stone floor. Cold liquid soaked through the back of my jacket, spreading across my shoulders and down my spine. The sharp scent of sparkling wine filled the air.

“Oh—oh no—oh Moon Goddess, no—”

I turned slowly.

A girl stood behind me. Young. My age, maybe. She wore the plain dark uniform of the palace serving staff. Her dark hair was escaping from a messy bun in every direction. In her hands she held the stem of what had once been a crystal flute. The rest of it lay in glittering pieces across the terrace floor.

Her face was white. Absolutely bloodless with horror.

“I didn’t—I wasn’t—the tray slipped and I was trying to catch it and I didn’t see you standing there and—” The words tumbled out in a breathless avalanche. She dropped to her knees and started grabbing at the broken glass with bare hands. “I’ll clean it up. I’ll pay for it. Please don’t—the sparkling wine was from the reserve and that glass was crystal and your jacket—oh, your jacket is ruined, that’s ceremonial fabric, isn’t it, I can’t afford—”

My mother’s voice echoed in my head. Be open. Be gentle.

I crouched down.

“Stop,” I said. Quietly. Not a command. “You’re going to cut yourself.”

She froze. Her hands hovered over the shattered pieces. Slowly, she lifted her head.

Our eyes met.

Deep forest green. That was the color. Not emerald. Not jade. The dark, layered green of ancient woods where sunlight barely reached. Wide with terror. Rimmed with unshed tears.

My wolf detonated.

Every nerve in my body ignited. A roar erupted inside my skull so violent that my vision blurred. My wolf surged forward with a force I’d never felt—not in combat training, not in my first shift, not ever.

MATE.

The word crashed through me like thunder.

MATE. MATE. MATE.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything except stare at this trembling girl kneeling in broken glass and spilled wine while my entire world rearranged itself around her face.

She didn’t notice. She was too busy panicking.

“I am so, so sorry,” she whispered. Her voice shook. “Please, I just started working here. If you report me, they’ll dismiss me and I can’t—I need this position. I’ll do anything to make it right. I’ll pay for the wine and the glass and have your jacket cleaned—”

My mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Say something, my wolf snarled. Tell her. CLAIM HER.

But my body wouldn’t cooperate. The bond hit me like a wall of fire and ice simultaneously. Every instinct screamed in different directions. Hold her. Protect her. Chase. Claim. Mine.

She was still talking. Still apologizing. Her hands trembled as she gathered glass shards into a pile.

“I have to go.” The words flew out of her mouth. “I’m sorry again. For the jacket. And the sparkling wine. And—I have to go.”

She ran. Actually ran. Disappeared behind the servants’ passage before I could stand up.

“Hey!” I finally found my voice. Staggered to my feet. “Wait!”