Odet had never believed in fairy tales, but that didn’t stop her from trudging up the snowy road toward the Alpha King’s castle, a heavy package of expensive spices clutched in her arms. The head chef had insisted they were needed for the winter festival feast, convinced the king would return any day now. The war had ended only two months ago. Even if King Roven had left the front immediately, the journey took time.
Most likely, he was still securing the borders, making sure the enemy was truly defeated. The wind picked up, sharp enough to steal her breath. The blizzard the village elders had warned about was coming faster than expected. If she didn’t reach the castle soon, she’d be caught in the worst of it.
But a sound cut through the howling wind. Low, pained, wrong. Odet stopped, listening. There it was again.
A whimper, almost lost beneath the storm. Setting the package down, she pushed through the snow toward the sound. Twenty paces off the road, she found him. A massive silver wolf lay crumpled in a ditch, one leg bent at an unnatural angle.
Even half buried in snow, she could see his size. Easily twice as large as any natural wolf. A shifter, then. Most of them had gone to fight alongside the king, using their animal forms to turn the tide of battle.
“Oh no,” she whispered, dropping to her knees beside him. “Can you hear me? ”
The wolf’s eyes cracked open, pale gray and glazed with pain. Blood matted the silver fur along his side, but it was the wound on his shoulder that made her stomach clench.
The flesh around it had turned black, spreading like ink in water. Poison. The enemy’s signature—weapons coated in venom that prevented shifter healing. This soldier had traveled who knows how far, making for home, only to collapse within sight of the castle.
How long had he been lying here? Odet looked up at the sky. The snow was falling faster now, the wind screaming. In another hour, maybe less, the blizzard would hit full force.
Anyone caught outside would freeze to death, even a shifter. She looked back at the wolf, at those dimming gray eyes. He had spent six years defending her kingdom, had fought so she could live safely within these walls, had sacrificed everything while she’d gone about her comfortable life as a palace maid. She was not going to leave him here to die.
“Absolutely not,” Odet muttered. She left the spices where they lay and bent over the wolf. He was huge, probably weighing as much as she did, maybe more. But six years of hauling laundry, scrubbing floors, and carrying supplies up and down castle stairs had made her stronger than she looked.
Bracing her legs, she worked her arms beneath him and lifted. The wolf whimpered. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry, but we have to move.
”
She got him across her shoulders, his weight pressing down like an avalanche, and her knees nearly buckled. The castle loomed on the hill above, impossibly far. One step, then another. The wind tore at her cloak, sending snow stinging into her face.
Her legs screamed, her shoulders burned. The wolf was dead weight against her back, his warm blood soaking through her dress. I can’t do this, she thought as she stumbled, nearly going down. It’s too far.
But the wolf had made it so much farther. Had crossed an entire kingdom, wounded and poisoned, trying to get home. Had spent six years facing horrors she couldn’t imagine, all to keep people like her safe. She owed him this.
They all did. Odet gritted her teeth and kept walking. Odet burst through the servant’s entrance, dripping snow and mud across the pristine stone floors. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her hair plastered to her face, blood—not hers—staining her dress.
“Odet. ” Madame Buer’s voice could have frozen fire. “How kind of you to join us. Two hours late.
”
The kitchen staff froze. Every eye turned toward her. “Madame Buer, I’m so sorry,” Odet said. “I found a wounded shifter on the road, poisoned, and I—”
“I’m sorry, but how is that more important than the head chef’s explicit instructions?
” Buer asked, thin lips curved. “He would have died. The healer said so himself. ”
“Nobody asked for your opinion on what our soldiers do or don’t deserve, girl,” Buer snapped.
“You have a job. You do it. Know your place or you won’t keep your next job. ”
The unfairness of it burned in Odet’s chest.
Madame Buer didn’t care. The guards hadn’t helped either. No one cared about the soldiers who’d bled for them, not unless it was convenient. “These shifters fought for us,” Odet said quietly.
“They deserve better than this. ”
“You’re dismissed. Effective immediately. ” Buer gestured sharply toward the door.
“What? ” Odet gasped. “You heard me. Get out.
I want you gone within the hour. ”
Odet looked wildly toward Liv and Rosie near the washing tubs. They looked horrified but didn’t dare speak. “But the storm—it’s getting worse.
Can’t I wait until—”
“You should have thought of that before playing hero,” Buer said. “Now get out. ”
Odet’s throat burned. Six years she’d worked here.
Six years. And this was how it ended. She made it to her tiny room before the tears came. Everything she owned fit into a single bag.
A spare dress, her mother’s comb, a few coins. Six years, and this was all she had. A soft knock. Liv slipped through the door.
“That was cruel, even for Buer. ”
“She was within her rights. I was late. ”
“You saved a soldier’s life.
”
“Buer doesn’t care about that. ” Odet shoved her dress into her bag. “The guards didn’t either. They wouldn’t even help me carry him.
They just stood there and watched me struggle. ”
“I know it’s not right, but Odet, you have to look out for yourself. Times are hard. Where are you going to go?
How will you survive the storm? ”
“So I should have left him to die? ”
“The shifter might not live anyway. And what good does it do if you starve or freeze to death?
”
“Helping others is what makes this world worth living in,” Odet said, her hands shaking as she tied her bag closed. “If we all just look out for ourselves, what’s the point of any of it? ”
Liv was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Listen.
You can’t go out in this storm. Hide with healer Kiron until it passes. He won’t turn you away. ” She pressed a bundle into Odet’s hands.
“Bread and cheese. Just pray Buer doesn’t come looking, or she’ll have you thrown in the dungeons for trespassing. ”
Odet hugged her fiercely. “Thank you.
”
“Just stay alive,” Liv whispered. “And stay away from Jis. That one’s a spy. ”
Ten minutes later, Odet slipped through the side door and into the storm.
The wind had picked up, turning the snow into horizontal needles. She pulled her cloak tight and hurried toward the warm glow of Kiron’s cottage. The healer opened the door before she could knock. “I wondered if you’d end up back here.
Come in, child, before you freeze. ”
The cottage’s warmth enveloped her like an embrace. Odet sagged with relief, then immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry to impose.
Madame Buer fired me, and I have nowhere else to go until the storm passes. ”
“Fired you for saving a life? ” Kiron shook his head. “That woman has a heart of stone.
You’re welcome here as long as you need. How is he? ”
Odet looked toward the examination table where the silver wolf lay, still unconscious. “Stable.
The poison is working its way out slowly, but he’ll live. ”
“Actually, I could use your help. These old hands aren’t as steady as they used to be, and that shoulder wound needs cleaning properly before I can stitch it. ”
“Of course.
” Odet set her bag down and moved to the wash basin, scrubbing her hands clean. “Tell me what you need. ”
Kiron guided her through preparing a salve. Mint for cooling, comfrey for healing, golden seal to draw out poison.
The familiar work settled her nerves. At least here she could be useful. The wolf’s breathing was deeper now, more regular. Odet knelt beside the table and carefully parted the blood-matted fur around his shoulder wound.
The blackness had receded slightly, which Kiron said was a good sign. “I’m going to clean this now,” she murmured to the unconscious wolf the way Kiron had taught her. “It might sting. I’m sorry.
”
She worked slowly, carefully, cleaning away the dried blood and debris. The wound was deep but no longer seemed to be spreading. “I’m going to the cellar for supplies,” the healer said behind her. “Won’t be but a moment.
”
The back door clicked shut. Odet was alone with the wolf. She dipped her cloth in the water basin, wringing it out. Her hands were steadier now, the familiar rhythm of tending wounds calming her frayed nerves.
At least here she could be useful. Then the wolf’s body went rigid beneath her touch. Odet froze. “Easy,” she whispered.
“You’re safe. ”
A light bloomed beneath his silver fur. Not firelight, not lantern glow. Something else entirely—pale and shimmering, like moonlight made liquid.
It rippled across his body in waves, and the fur began to recede. Odet stumbled backward, her hip hitting the table edge. Her heart hammered against her ribs. What was happening?
The light grew brighter, forcing her to squint. The wolf’s form seemed to blur, to shift and flow like water. Bones reshaping, limbs lengthening. The sound of it wasn’t violent—no cracking, no tearing—just a soft whisper like wind through leaves.
Then the light faded. Where the wolf had been, a man lay unconscious on the table. Odet’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. A naked man.
Her first instinct was to look away, to avert her eyes like a proper maiden should. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She’d heard stories of shifters, of course, everyone had. But she’d never seen the transformation, never imagined it would be like this—like witnessing something sacred and terrible and beautiful all at once.
He was huge. That was her first coherent thought. Tall and broad and powerfully built in a way that made the examination table seem too small. His skin was bronze, covered in scars.
So many scars. They crisscrossed his chest, his arms, his abdomen like a map of violence, like a history written in pain. Her gaze traveled upward, almost against her will. His face was all sharp angles—strong jaw, high cheekbones, a blade of a nose.
Dark hair fell across his forehead, slightly damp with fever sweat. A scar cut through his left eyebrow, stark white against his skin. Even unconscious, even battered and poisoned, he was beautiful wasn’t the right word. Beautiful was too soft, too gentle.
He was something fiercer than that. Something that made her stomach drop and her breath catch and her skin feel too tight. Dangerous. That was the word.
He looked dangerous. She should cover him. Should grab a blanket and preserve his modesty and her own. Should stop staring like some foolish girl who’d never seen a man before.
Because she hadn’t. Not like this. Not this close. Heat flooded her face as she realized where her eyes had drifted.
She jerked her gaze back to his face, her cheeks burning. Her hands trembled as she finally moved, reaching for the blanket on the chair. But even as she draped it over his lower body, her eyes kept returning to him. To the broad span of his shoulders, the muscled planes of his chest rising and falling with each breath, the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the curve of his lips slightly parted.
Something twisted low in her belly, unfamiliar and frightening and thrilling all at once. She’d carried him through a blizzard, saved his life, and now he was here, transformed into this man who made her heart race and her thoughts scatter like startled birds. Who was he? The storm raged for three days.
Odet barely left his side. There was nowhere else to go, but even if there had been, she wasn’t sure she could have torn herself away. Something about him drew her. Kiron’s hands trembled too much for the delicate task of cleaning wounds, so Odet tended to him.
She learned the landscape of his body—every scar, every ridge of muscle, every place where old injuries had healed poorly. Fever burned through him in waves. She kept cool cloths on his forehead, his chest, anywhere the heat concentrated. Her hands moved over his skin countless times, checking for fever, cleaning wounds, applying salves.
Professional touches. Medicinal. She tried not to stare at the rise and fall of his chest, at the way his muscles shifted beneath bronze skin when he moved restlessly in sleep. Tried and failed.
“It helps to talk to them,” Kiron had said. “Gives them something to hold on to. ”
So Odet talked. She told him about her childhood, about losing her parents when she was ten, about coming to the castle desperate and half-starved, about six years of invisible servitude.
“The kingdom waited so long for you soldiers to come home,” she said softly, wringing out a cloth over the basin. “All of you. Six years is a lifetime. ”
She smoothed the cool cloth across his forehead, brushing back the dark hair that fell over his eyes.
He stirred beneath her touch, a small furrow appearing between his brows. “Shh,” Odet murmured, her hand moving to his shoulder. “You’re safe. You’re healing.
”
His breathing began to slow, to even out. “We heard stories about the battles,” she continued. “About how the shifters turned the tide. About how brave you all were.
You protected us when we couldn’t protect ourselves. Thank you. Thank you for everything you sacrificed, for the years you gave, for coming home. ”
Something shifted in his face—the harsh lines softening, his lips parting slightly, almost like a smile, though his eyes never opened.
The second night was worse. The fever spiked again, and he became restless, thrashing weakly, muttering words she couldn’t understand. “No,” he mumbled, his head turning side to side. “Can’t… have to…”
“You’re safe,” Odet said, pressing a cool cloth to his chest.
His skin was burning. “The war is over. You’re home. ”
He didn’t hear her.
His hand shot out, grabbing at nothing. Without thinking, Odet caught his hand in hers. His fingers closed around hers immediately, too tight, almost painful. His grip was desperate, like she was the only solid thing in a world of fever dreams.
“I’m here,” she said softly, her other hand moving to cup his jaw. His stubble was rough against her palm. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.
”
She kept talking, her voice low and soothing. Told him about the snow outside, about how peaceful the cottage was, about how the poison was leaving his body and soon he’d be strong again. Slowly, so slowly, his breathing calmed. His grip on her hand loosened, though he didn’t let go.
His thumb moved against her palm just once, barely conscious, but it was there. Odet stayed like that for hours, her hand in his, murmuring reassurances whenever he grew restless, anchoring him. By the time dawn broke, her back ached and her arm was numb. But he was sleeping peacefully, his hand still loosely holding hers.
She didn’t pull away. On the third day, he surfaced briefly. Odet was changing his bandages when his eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed with fever, but open. “Where…?
”
“Healer’s cottage. You’re safe. ” She kept her movements slow and gentle. “You were poisoned.
Do you remember? ”
His brow furrowed like he was trying to pull thoughts through thick fog. “You… you saved me. ”
“Don’t try to talk,” she scolded gently.
“You need to save your strength. ”
His eyes found hers, struggling to focus. Then his hand moved, trembling and weak, reaching for her. Odet caught it without thinking, pressing it between both of hers.
“I’m here. You’re going to be all right. ”
His lips moved, forming words she couldn’t hear. But just before he slipped back under, his fingers squeezed hers so faintly she almost missed it.
By the fourth morning, everything changed. Odet woke slumped in her chair beside him, her neck stiff from the awkward angle. Pale sunlight streamed through the windows—the first real sunlight in days. She sat up quickly, checking him by instinct.
Her hand went to his forehead. Cool. His skin was cool. Relief flooded through her so strongly it made her dizzy.
She pressed her hand to his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, his breathing deep and even. The fever was gone. The poison had finally worked its way out.
He would live. Odet sagged back in her chair, suddenly exhausted. Three days of constant vigilance, of watching him fight for every breath, and it was over. He was going to be all right.
She let herself look at him properly—not checking for fever or injuries, just looking at the strong lines of his face, peaceful now in true sleep, at the rise and fall of his chest, at his hands relaxed against the blanket. Beautiful. Mysterious. And soon he would wake, would be strong enough to leave.
The thought settled in her chest like a stone. Odet woke to the feeling of being watched. She’d fallen asleep slumped in the chair, and when she lifted her head, she found his gray eyes clear and alert. “You’re awake.
”
“I am,” he said, his voice still rough. “Who are you? ”
“Odet. I’m the one who found you four days ago on the road to the castle.
You were wounded. I brought you to the healer. ”
He studied her for a long moment. “You didn’t have to do that.
”
“Of course I did. You’re a soldier. You spent six years fighting to protect this kingdom. You and all the other shifters who followed our king to war.
The least we can do is help now. ”
He stared at her with something like wonder. “Thank you,” he said quietly. She was suddenly acutely aware that he was still shirtless, that the blanket had slipped down to his waist, that she could see every ridge of muscle, every scar.
“You must be hungry. I can make you some broth. ”
“No,” he said, staring at her lips. “Or perhaps some bread, if you think you can manage to eat.
”
“Odet. ”
Her name on his lips made her look back at him. “Do I make you nervous? ” he asked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Of course not. I’ve been tending your wounds for days. I’m perfectly comfortable. ”
His lips curved into a smile that was absolutely devastating.
“You’re blushing. ”
“I am not blushing. ”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re rather endearing when you’re flustered? ”
The door burst open, and Jis rushed inside, making Odet freeze.
She was Madame Buer’s favorite—a mean-spirited maid who loved to tell on others even when they’d done nothing wrong. “Healer Kiron, the head cook needs—” She stopped dead, her eyes landing on Odet. “You’re still here? ”
“Jis, I can explain.
”
“Madame Buer fired you,” Jis crossed her arms. “Or did you forget you were sent to fetch spices for the head cook, only to return empty-handed with a wounded shifter instead? ”
“He would have died if I hadn’t brought him here. ”
“Oh, I’m sure.
” Jis’s smile was sharp. “But trespassing on castle grounds after being dismissed—that’s serious, Odet. I should fetch the guards. Let them sort this out.
”
“Wait, Jis, please. ”
But she was already gone. “What just happened? ” the soldier asked, his voice hard now, all amusement gone.
“You were fired from your job? ” Odet turned back to him. “It’s nothing, really. The head maid, Madame Buer—she hates everyone.
Well, she hates me more than most, but that’s just how it is. I’ll find another job somewhere, probably. ”
“You lost your job because you helped me. ”
“It was worth it.
”
He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. His hand shot out, catching hers before she could step away. “You lost everything for a stranger. ”
“You’re not a stranger.
You’re a soldier who fought for us. ”
Something shifted in his expression. Surprise. Admiration.
Something deeper she couldn’t name. “At least let me properly thank you,” he said, his voice low and earnest. They were so close. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
Before she could think, before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned forward and kissed him. She felt him go still with surprise, felt the sharp intake of his breath. This was her first real kiss. It lasted only a heartbeat, maybe two.
But in that brief moment, everything else disappeared. When she pulled back, her face was burning. “There. Now I’ve been properly thanked.
”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I have to go now,” she said, smiling back. “But hopefully you’re well enough to come find me soon. ”
She fled into the morning sunlight, her lips still tingling.
She’d made it perhaps twenty paces when a sharp voice stopped her cold. “Still here, I see. ”
Odet froze. Madame Buer stood near the main path, Jis beside her with a satisfied smirk.
Two guards flanked them. “Madame Buer, please, I can explain. ”
“Trespassing on castle grounds after dismissal is a serious offense,” Buer announced, her voice like ice. “Guards, escort her off the premises immediately.
”
One of the guards grabbed Odet’s arm roughly. “I just needed shelter from the storm. ”
“You were told to leave. You defied a direct order.
” Buer’s expression was cold. “Perhaps a night in the cells will teach you about following instructions. ”
“Stop. ”
Everyone turned.
The soldier stood in the cottage doorway, wearing ill-fitting clothes. He stood straight and tall, commanding. “Release her now,” he ordered. His voice was quiet but carried absolute authority.
The guard holding Odet loosened his grip. “And who are you to give orders? ” Buer demanded, though something flickered in her expression. The soldier stepped forward into the full sunlight.
His gray eyes swept over the assembled group with the kind of assessing gaze that came from years of command. One of the guards, an older man with silver in his beard, went completely still. “Merciful gods! ” he breathed, dropping immediately to his knees.
“Your Majesty! ”
Madame Buer froze. “Your Majesty, forgive us. We had no idea you had returned.
”
The other guard dropped to his knees so fast Odet heard his kneecaps crack. The soldier she’d rescued. The man she’d tended for three days. The wounded shifter she’d talked to, confided in, thanked for his service.
The man she’d kissed. He was the Alpha King. Roven. Ruler of the entire kingdom.
Oh gods. She’d kissed the king. Her legs felt like water. Her face burned so hot she thought she might faint.
“Rise, all of you,” Roven commanded, though his eyes never left Odet’s face. “What’s happening here? ” His voice was calm, but there was steel underneath. “A misunderstanding, Your Majesty.
A simple misunderstanding,” Buer started. “This woman was fired for helping me,” Roven cut her off. “For saving my life when I was wounded and dying in the snow. Is that correct?
”
Silence. “Answer me,” he ordered. “She abandoned her duties, Your Majesty,” Buer said quickly. “She saved the Alpha King’s life,” Roven said, his voice soft and dangerous, “while my own guards apparently couldn’t be bothered to help carry their wounded king to safety.
Would you like to explain that? ”
The older guard looked like he wanted to sink through the earth. “I thought not. ” Roven turned his attention back to Odet.
“You. As of this moment, you’re assigned to my personal household. Report to the steward this afternoon. ”
Odet couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
Word was spreading like wildfire through the castle—the Alpha King had returned. Three weeks had passed since the Alpha King’s return. The war was over. The kingdom was safe.
But no one’s life had changed quite as much as Odet’s. She was now part of the king’s personal household staff. She saw him constantly, and it was torture, because every time she looked at him—seated at his desk reviewing documents, standing by the windows discussing strategy—she remembered the feel of his bare skin under her hands, the heat of him, the scars she’d traced with her fingers, the softness of his lips. Now those same shoulders were hidden beneath fine shirts and embroidered doublets.
That same mouth issued commands to generals and nobles. He was the Alpha King. Powerful. Untouchable.
Surrounded always by people who belonged in his world. And she was a maid who’d gotten impossibly lucky and impossibly stupid in equal measure. Sometimes she felt his eyes on her. She’d be pouring wine or straightening cushions, and awareness would prickle down her spine.
But she could never hold his gaze. It had been so simple in the healer’s cottage. Just a wounded soldier and the woman who’d saved him. Now there were titles and protocols and an entire kingdom between them.
“You seem nervous, Odet,” he’d said once when she’d nearly dropped the tea tray. “Do I still make you nervous? ”
“The king can’t take his eyes off you,” Liv said, folding a sheet. “That’s not true.
He’s just being polite. ”
Rosie laughed. “The man watches you like you’re water and he’s dying of thirst. ”
“You’re wrong.
He’s a king. He can’t. ”
“Odet. ” A steward interrupted.
“The king requests your presence in his private chambers. Immediately. ”
Roven stood by the fireplace, the fire haloing his frame. His doublet was gone, leaving only a loose white shirt falling open at the throat.
He looked nothing like the distant king she served. He looked like the wounded soldier she’d attended—beautiful and dangerously human. “You sent for me, Your Majesty? ”
“I did.
” He turned to look at her and smiled. “Come here, Odet. ”
Her feet felt rooted, but somehow she moved. “Closer.
”
She took another step. “The wound on my shoulder,” he said, tilting slightly to give her access. “It’s been bothering me. I think it may be infected.
Will you look? ”
Her mouth went dry. “Your Majesty, perhaps the royal healer—”
“I’m asking you,” he said softly. There was no refusing that tone.
Her hands shook as she reached for the edge of his shirt, brushing it aside. The wound was fine—perfectly healed, just a faint redness. But her fingers still traced it delicately, and she couldn’t ignore the way her breath stuttered in her throat. “It looks fine,” she whispered.
“No infection. ”
“Good. ”
He stood very still, as if inviting her to touch him longer. “Are you happy here, Odet?
In my household? ”
“Of course, Your Majesty. ”
“You don’t seem it. ” His voice dropped even lower.
“You avoid my gaze. You flee every room I enter. ”
Her heart thrashed in her chest. “I’m only trying to be proper.
”
“Proper,” he repeated with quiet amusement. He turned slowly, bringing his face inches from hers. “From where I stand, it feels like you’re pretending we’re strangers. ”
“Your Majesty, I—”
“As though we didn’t spend days alone together.
Because I can’t stop thinking about it. Every time I see you in the corridors, every time you curtsy and run away, I think about you sitting beside me, talking to me like I was just a man. ”
“You are the king. ”
“And yet all I see is you.
Even when you’re not there. ”
Her chest constricted painfully. “You’re mocking me. ”
He didn’t let go of her hand.
Suddenly, his body was against hers, his gray eyes locked onto her lips. “I keep thinking about that kiss,” he said, his voice roughened. “The one you gave me before you ran. ”
“Your Majesty, I apologize if I—”
“You left,” he said quietly, “before I could return it.
”
His free hand rose to her jaw, cupping it gently. “Let me make it clearer. ”
Then his mouth crashed into hers with heated purpose. This kiss wasn’t like the soft, frightened kiss she’d given him in the cottage.
This was hunger. This was demand. When she gasped, his tongue swept into her mouth, and she clutched at his shirt, desperate to keep breathing, to keep feeling him everywhere. He lifted her slightly, backing her into the wall.
Cold stone pressed against her spine, but his heat smothered it instantly. “Odette,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “I want you. ”
She wanted him back.
She had never wanted anything like this. Never felt anything like this. But that was the problem. For him, this was fleeting.
A king amusing himself with a servant. Gratitude mixed with attraction, nothing more. For her, this was everything. She was already falling.
Had already felt her heart breaking at the thought of this ending. And if she let this continue, she’d want it forever. “No,” she gasped, pushing against his chest. “Odet—”
“Please.
” Tears burned in her eyes. “Please, Your Majesty. I can’t do this. ”
“Why not?
”
Because I’m falling in love with you, she thought. “Because you’re the king,” she said instead. She ducked under his arm and ran. She heard him call her name, but she was faster, knew the servant’s corridors better.
She fled through hidden passages, her lungs burning, her whole body trembling. She turned a corner into a narrow storage corridor and stopped short. Voices coming from the alcove ahead. “Another twenty silver this month,” a man’s voice said.
“The usual arrangement. And no one’s noticed the discrepancy. ”
“The books balance perfectly,” the man replied. “I provide the cheap grain and vegetables.
You pay for the expensive goods, and we split the difference. The king’s household never knows. ”
“Good,” Buer said. “With all these returning soldiers to feed, we can increase the skim.
Make it thirty silver next month. ”
Odet’s blood ran cold. Madame Buer was stealing from the king’s household—buying cheap food and keeping the difference. She needed to tell someone.
No, first she needed to gather proof. Who knew how many others were involved? Odet slipped away silently, her mind racing. Over the next few days, Odet watched.
She kept her head down, performed her duties, and paid attention to things she’d previously ignored. The packages Jis carried through back corridors. The way Buer’s ledgers never quite matched the actual supplies. She began keeping notes, hiding them in the lining of her spare dress.
Three days into her research, she found herself in the kitchen garden, checking the herb inventory against the ledger. The numbers didn’t match. “You’re very intent on those herbs,” Roven’s voice said. Odet jumped, nearly dropping the basket.
“Your Majesty. ” She dropped into a hasty curtsy. “I didn’t hear you approach. ”
“You’ve been avoiding me again.
”
“I’ve been working,” Odet snapped before remembering she was speaking to a king. His eyebrows rose, but he looked more amused than offended. “Walk with me,” he said. They walked in silence for a moment, Odet acutely aware of him beside her.
“Odet,” he said quietly. “I owe you an apology. For the other day in my chambers. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.
It was inappropriate. ”
The words cut deeper than they should have. Of course he regretted it. “You don’t need to apologize, Your Majesty.
I understand. I know my place. ”
He stopped walking abruptly, turning to face her. “No.
I don’t think you do. ”
She looked up at him, confused by the intensity in his gray eyes. “You saved my life, Odet. After I spent six years saving everyone else’s.
That’s my duty as king. It’s what I’m supposed to do, and I don’t fault anyone for needing it. But you—you saved me. And not because I’m a king, but because you are kind.
” He took a breath. “That means something to me. ”
“And I regret kissing you because I’m afraid it might have given you the wrong impression regarding my intentions. ”
Odet’s heart sank.
He was trying to spare her from hoping for something he couldn’t give. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. You’re the king. I’m a servant.
You haven’t hurt me or disappointed me. I promise. ”
Something flickered across his face. Frustration.
Confusion. Almost pain. “The winter ball is tonight,” he said abruptly. “I want you to attend as my personal guest.
”
“Sorry, what? ”
“I’m inviting you to the ball,” he said, a small smile playing at his lips. “Your Majesty, servants don’t attend the winter ball. It’s for nobles and—”
“And anyone I invite,” the king interrupted gently.
“I want you there. ” His hand came up as if to touch her face. “Please say yes. ”
He was standing so close, and the afternoon sun caught in his hair, and he was looking at her like her answer actually mattered to him.
“Yes,” she heard herself whisper. “Good. ” His smile was brilliant. “I hope you’ll see that my intentions are sincere, because I plan to make sure everyone else does too.
”
“Did you hear? ” Liv whispered that evening. “The king is going to announce his engagement to Lady Saraphene of North March. Everyone’s talking about it.
”
The needle slipped, pricking Odet’s finger. “A political match,” Liv continued. “Well, what did you expect? ”
“A king needs a proper queen,” Jis’s voice cut in from the doorway.
Odet excused herself and fled to the small room she shared with three other maids. It was empty. A package was waiting on her bed. Inside was the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen.
Ivory white silk and diamonds that shimmered like starlight. A matching mask. A note in strong masculine handwriting:
For tonight. I look forward to seeing you.
—R
Odet sank onto the bed, the beautiful gown in her lap, and cried. She’d fallen in love with a man who’d defended her, who’d expressed his gratitude for an act everyone had mocked her for, who’d kissed her not once but twice. And he was getting engaged to another. She folded the gown back into its box.
She wouldn’t go. A knock at the door made her freeze. “Open up. By order of Madame Buer.
”
Odet opened the door to find two guards flanking Jis, who wore vindictive satisfaction. Behind them stood Madame Buer, her face arranged in false disappointment. “I’m afraid there’s been a serious accusation,” Buer said. “Theft from the king’s personal chambers.
”
“That’s impossible. ”
“Search her room,” Buer ordered. The guards tore through her belongings. One reached under her mattress and pulled out a small ornate box containing a gold pocket watch and jewelry.
“I’ve never seen those before in my life. ”
“Of course you’d say that,” Jis said sweetly. “The penalty is imprisonment and exile to the colonies,” Buer announced, her eyes gleaming. “No, please.
I didn’t do this,” Odet cried as the guards seized her arms. No one listened. Liv and Rosie appeared in the doorway, horrified but silent, as the guards dragged Odet through corridors, down stone steps, into the cold depths beneath the castle. The cell was cold and dark, and Odet had lost track of time.
Hours? It felt like days. She sat on the narrow bench, arms wrapped around herself, trying not to think about what was happening above. The ball had started.
She could hear distant music filtering down through stone, muffled sounds of celebration. The king was up there announcing his engagement, moving on with his life while she rotted below for a crime she didn’t commit. Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Odet looked up.
Instead of guards, Liv and Rosie appeared at the bars, their faces pale and determined. “We’re getting you out,” Liv whispered. “No, you can’t—if they catch you—”
“You’re always taking risks for others,” Rosie said. “Well, now we’re taking one for you.
”
She pulled something from her apron—a set of thin metal picks. “My brother’s a locksmith. Taught me a few things. ”
“You’ll be thrown in here with me.
”
“Then we’d better not get caught. ”
The lock clicked. The cell door swung open. “Come on,” Liv urged.
Voices echoed from around the corner. All three women froze, pressing themselves against the wall. Two guards walked past, their conversation drifting back. “Extra security at the ball tonight.
Madame Buer mentioned concerns about a poison attempt. ”
“Really? From who? ”
“That maid they arrested.
Supposedly, she was planning to poison the king during the engagement announcement. Good thing Buer caught her before—”
The voices faded as they turned another corner. Odet’s blood ran cold. “What are they talking about?
” Liv whispered. “Poisoning the king. ” Odet’s eyes went wide with horror. “Buer’s going to poison him.
And frame me for it. ”
“But you’re locked up in here. ”
“All the better,” Odet said. “She’s already convinced the guards it was my intention to hurt His Majesty.
If the king is poisoned tonight, I’ll be the perfect scapegoat. She’ll act as though I had an accomplice. ”
“But why would she take such a risk just to frame you? ”
“Because I discovered what she’s been doing.
She’s been stealing from the king’s household for months, buying cheap supplies and pocketing the difference. I’ve been keeping notes, gathering evidence. She must have found out I was on to her. ”
“To the point of poisoning our king,” Rosie exclaimed.
“She’s desperate. Cornered. We have to warn His Majesty now. ”
They fled through the servant passages, taking stairs two at a time.
They burst into the servants’ quarters. Odet rushed to her room, looking for the gown. Gone. The beautiful ivory gown, the mask, everything.
“How am I going to get into the ball? ”
“Here,” Liv said, thrusting a simple servant’s dress at her. “It’s clean, at least. And this?
” She pressed a plain cloth mask into Odet’s hands. “It’s not fancy, but it’ll get you in. ”
Odet changed quickly, her fingers trembling. The dress was brown, homespun, nothing like the shimmering gown the king had sent.
She ran. The ballroom was magnificent—all golden light and glittering chandeliers, the cream of the kingdom’s nobility dressed in silks and jewels. Couples danced across the polished floor in a kaleidoscope of color. Odet slipped through the main doors, keeping to the edges of the crowd.
No one looked twice at her in her plain dress and mask. She searched desperately for Roven. She had to warn him. Could clear her name later, explain everything later.
Right now, all that mattered was keeping him alive. There, on the dais at the far end of the hall. Her breath caught. He stood beside his throne, magnificent in black and silver, a crown on his dark hair.
He looked every inch the king—powerful, commanding, untouchable. But there was something in his expression, a tightness around his eyes, that made her chest ache. He was scanning the crowd. Looking for someone.
Looking for her. For the woman in the ivory gown he’d sent. Then movement at the grand entrance made the entire ballroom turn. A woman appeared at the top of the stairs, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
She was stunning, radiant. The ivory silk gown caught the light from a thousand candles, diamonds glittering like captured stars. She descended the stairs slowly, gracefully, and every eye in the ballroom followed her. Odet’s heart stopped.
Jis. That was her gown. The gown the king had sent for her. And Jis wore it like she’d been born to it, like she was Odet coming to answer the king’s invitation.
Horror washed over Odet. Jis wasn’t just stealing her gown. She was stealing her identity. On the dais, the king turned toward the vision in ivory descending toward him, and his face transformed.
The careful control, the royal composure—it all fell away. His expression opened like sunrise, raw and unguarded. Relief flooded his features, followed by something so tender it made Odet’s chest ache. Joy.
Pure, uncomplicated joy. All because he was looking at Jis, who he thought was her. “Is that the king’s fiancée? ” a noblewoman whispered nearby.
“In the white gown. ”
“Must be. Look how pleased he is to see her. I’ve never seen him smile like that.
”
Jis reached the dais, climbing the steps with practiced grace. She curtsied low, and Odet saw it then—the goblet in her hands. Dark red wine that caught the light wrong. Jis extended the goblet toward the king in silence, her head bowed demurely.
The picture of modest elegance. The king reached for it without hesitation, still smiling, still looking at the woman in ivory like she was the only person in the room. The goblet. The poison.
Odet’s paralysis shattered. “No! ” she screamed. She broke through the final row of courtiers and threw herself forward.
Guards moved, but she was faster. Odet reached the dais just as Roven’s fingers touched the goblet. She knocked it from Jis’s hands. The poisoned wine spilled across the white marble steps.
Where it hit, the stone hissed and blackened. The roses in a nearby vase withered instantly, their petals turning brown and crumbling to dust. The ballroom fell silent. Everyone stared at the corroded stone, at the dead flowers, at the clear evidence of poison.
Then at Jis, frozen in shock, still wearing Odet’s gown. And at Odet, in her plain brown dress and simple mask, breathing hard, her hand still extended from knocking away death. Roven’s eyes locked on hers. Recognition flooded his face.
“Odet. ”
He moved before she could breathe, closing the distance in two strides. His hands came up to cup her face, tilting it toward his. “You came,” he breathed, his voice rough with emotion.
“You’re here. You’re safe. ”
Odet smiled. Despite everything—despite the chaos, the danger, the hundred watching nobles—“I came,” she whispered.
But then his brow furrowed, confusion clouding his joy. “But I don’t understand. Who was that? Why were you—?
”
A shriek cut through the air. Jis bolted, trying to flee down the dais steps. Guards seized her immediately. “Let me go!
I didn’t do anything! She made me! ”
“Explain,” Roven commanded, his hand still framing Odet’s face. “Quickly.
”
“Earlier today, I was framed for theft and imprisoned,” Odet said. “Madame Buer planted evidence in my room because I discovered she’s been stealing from your household for months. My friends broke me out when we overheard guards talking about a poison attempt. Jis wore the gown you sent me to pose as me, to poison you, so everyone would think I did it.
Buer orchestrated everything. ”
Roven’s jaw tightened, his eyes going cold and dangerous. “Guards, bring Madame Buer forward. Now.
”
The crowd parted. Two guards dragged Buer through, her face pale but arranged in false innocence. “Your Majesty, this is clearly a misunderstanding. ”
“Search Jis,” Roven ordered, cutting her off.
One of the guards reached into Jis’s bodice. She shrieked in protest, but he pulled out a small glass vial, still half full of dark liquid. “Nightshade,” the guard announced, unstopping it carefully. “Concentrated.
”
Gasps rippled through the ballroom. “That’s not mine! Madame Buer gave it to me. She said it was perfume!
” Jis sobbed. “Lies! ” Buer spat. “Your Majesty, this girl has clearly been corrupted by that criminal.
” She pointed at Odet with venom. “I have evidence,” Odet said despite her racing heart. “Notes, dates, records of discrepancies between your ledgers and the actual supplies. ”
“Convenient that you’d claim this now.
”
“She’s telling the truth. ”
Liv’s voice rang out from the crowd. Other servants stepped forward, emboldened. “Madame Buer ordered me to falsify inventory records,” a supply clerk said nervously.
“Said she’d dismiss me if I didn’t. ”
“She threatened my position if I mentioned the quality of the grain,” a cook added. “She’s been stealing for at least a year. ”
Buer’s face twisted with rage.
“You dare—you insignificant—”
“Enough. ” Roven’s voice cut through the hall like a blade. He turned to his guards. “Arrest them both.
Madame Buer and Jis will stand trial for attempted murder, conspiracy, theft, and treason. I want a full investigation. ”
“No! ” Buer shrieked as guards seized her arms.
“You’d take the word of a common maid over mine? ”
“I’d take the word of the woman who saved my life,” Roven said coldly, “over a thief and a would-be murderer. Remove them from my sight. ”
The guards dragged both women away.
The crowd watched in stunned silence. Roven turned back to Odet, his expression softening, the cold fury melting into something warm and wondering. “Odet. You saved my life again.
You risked everything to warn me, even after being falsely imprisoned and stripped of everything. You’re innocent of all charges, and I declare it publicly before all witnesses. ”
Relief flooded through her. “Thank you, Your Majesty.
”
“No. Thank you. ”
Then, to her complete shock, he sank to one knee before her. The entire ballroom gasped.
“What are you doing? ” Odet breathed, trying to tug him up. “Get up! You’re the king.
You can’t—”
“I can very well kneel before my queen,” he said, his gray eyes locked on hers. He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Your queen? ”
“If you’ll accept,” he said, “become my queen.
My wife. ”
The ballroom seemed to tilt. Odet stared at him, unable to process the words. “But the engagement announcement—Lady Saraphene—”
“A simple rumor,” Roven said firmly.
“There never was any engagement, Odet. ”
“But then why did you—”
“Let me be clear. ” The king rose to his feet but kept her hands clasped in his. “Odet, you saved my life.
You healed me and cared for me when I was at my most vulnerable. You treated me like a man, not a king. You exposed corruption in my castle at great personal risk. You escaped prison to save me from assassination.
” His voice grew more intense. “You’re clever and kind and brave and selfless. You’re everything a queen should be. Everything I could ever hope for.
”
She was crying now, tears streaming down her face. “Also,” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower, more intimate, “I’m in love with you. In case that wasn’t clear. ”
A sob escaped her—happy, disbelieving, overwhelmed.
His hands came up to cup her face again, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “If you need time to think about it, you can—”
Odet kissed him. She pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, pouring every ounce of feeling she’d been suppressing into it. His arms wrapped around her waist immediately, pulling her close.
The ballroom erupted in applause and cheers. Roven smiled against her lips, pulling back just enough to murmur, “Is that a yes? ”
“Yes! ” Odet breathed, laughing through her tears.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, and the crowd cheered louder. When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Roven turned to address the ballroom, keeping one arm firmly around Odet’s waist. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice ringing with joy. “May I present your future queen?
”
The applause was deafening. Nobles bowed. Servants cheered.
And Odet, the maid who’d saved a wolf in a snowstorm, stood beside her king and realized that sometimes fairy tales did come true.
