Aria's POV
She couldn't sleep.
Not after what happened in the Court. Not after Kael stood beside her—for her. Not after the way the entire kingdom now knew she was not just his prisoner, but his mate.
No.
Sleep was a luxury for people who weren't at war with themselves.
Aria wandered the halls of the East Wing alone. It was nearly dawn, and the castle was quiet, lit only by torches flickering in the old stone sconces. Her slippered feet were silent against the marbled floor. Her heart wasn't.
She passed portraits of Alpha Kings long dead, each one staring down with solemn judgment. She paused before one of them.
A man with golden hair and a cruel mouth. His wolf had supposedly ruled the entire eastern territory with iron and flame.
"Did you love your Luna?" she whispered to the painting. "Or did you use her like they wanted Kael to use me?"
Of course, there was no answer.
But the air behind her shifted.
She turned fast.
The corridor was empty.
And yet her instincts screamed.
Run.
She took a slow step backward—
And something lunged from the shadow.
---
She didn't scream. Training from her childhood kicked in faster than fear.
She ducked the strike—claws barely missed her face—and rolled to the side, her hands catching the edge of a hallway column. The creature was fast. Too fast.
Not a wolf.
A shade.
A cursed one.
Its skin was mottled grey, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. Not quite living. Not quite dead. Made from old magic and foul rituals outlawed before she was born.
"Who sent you?" she growled.
The shade hissed.
"Who sent you!"
But it didn't speak.
It attacked.
Aria darted backward, grabbed the silver dagger Kael had insisted she wear on her thigh—thank the moon for that—and sliced forward.
The blade connected.
The creature shrieked.
Its body exploded into black smoke that burned the air as it vanished.
And just like that, it was gone.
---
Kael's POV
The moment the ward alarms activated, Kael shifted.
Not literally—though his wolf snarled for blood—but mentally. Strategically. Danger in the East Wing. A presence that didn't belong. A dark scent of old magic and—
Aria.
He was halfway down the hall before the guards caught up with him.
She was already standing when he reached her. Pale. Furious. Alive.
But the moment she saw him, something in her snapped.
He barely caught her as she collapsed into his chest.
---
She didn't cry.
Aria Vale didn't cry.
But she shook.
Kael carried her to his chambers without a word. Not because he was claiming her, but because she refused to go to the healer. And he refused to leave her.
"I'm fine," she mumbled into his shoulder.
"No, you're not."
He set her down on the couch and knelt before her, gently pulling the sleeve of her night robe to check for wounds. There was blood. Small slashes. A burn mark.
He exhaled slowly. Controlled.
Aria watched him. "It wasn't a rogue wolf."
"I know."
"It wasn't Veyra, either."
He paused. "You're sure?"
"Yes. She wants me dead. But not like that. Not in the dark. Not with… that thing."
Kael's jaw locked. "A shade. Someone summoned it."
"That's supposed to be impossible."
He met her eyes. "Unless the summoner has blood magic. Forbidden magic."
Aria went still. "From my bloodline."
Kael didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because the moment he touched the place where the shade had scratched her, something happened.
Her skin glowed.
Faint. Golden. Soft.
But undeniable.
"Aria…" he whispered. "Your power. It's waking up."
---
Aria's POV
He looked at her like she was a miracle and a bomb at the same time.
She stared at her hand, watched it pulse with quiet light.
"I've never…" She shook her head. "This isn't possible. I never showed signs of any Gift."
Kael stood. Pacing now. His mind racing.
"Maybe your father suppressed it. Maybe he had a reason to hide it from everyone. If your blood carries ancient magic, it could make you more than just a mate."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means," he said carefully, "you may be part of a prophecy I've spent my entire life ignoring."
Her heart dropped. "Kael…"
"Years ago," he said, "my father spoke of a union that would end the blood wars. He said it would come from two broken lines. From fire and vengeance. From hatred... and love."
"That sounds like a bedtime story."
"I thought so too. Until I met you."
Silence stretched between them like a taut wire.
Aria stood slowly. "So what now? You're going to put me on a throne and hope I glow enough to keep the shade things away?"
"No," he said. "I'm going to train you."
"Train me?"
"I'll teach you how to fight with your gift. How to shield yourself. How to channel it without burning out."
"You've never trained a magical heir before."
"No. But I've killed a lot of them."
Her stomach turned. "That's… comforting."
But then he stepped closer.
And his voice dropped to something softer.
"I won't lose you, Aria. I don't care if the world calls you cursed. I won't let them take you."
She swallowed. "Even if I become something you can't control?"
His eyes burned gold. "Especially then."