Page 19 of Her Fated Alpha Prince
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ARIANA
The morning light spilled unevenly through the lattice windows, casting flickers of shadow that danced across the worn wooden floor. Ariana sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the parchment still heavy in her hand. The message from “V” felt less like a warning now and more like a chain tightening around her chest.
She tried to steady her breathing, to calm the restless buzzing beneath her skin, but it was no use. Every nerve was on edge, every sense sharpened, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to break. She had never felt so exposed — yet so alive.
Outside, the garden was already awake, the strange flowers still glowing faintly, their colors pulsing like a secret heartbeat. She touched one petal lightly, still reluctant to believe it was real. That dream—the voice inside her chest—the silver flames—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle she didn’t yet know how to solve.
Her mind drifted to Kael. The way he looked at her had haunted her nights and crowded her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if it was hours or days since she last saw him. Dangerous. Sacred. Those words wrapped around her like a cloak, both shieldingand suffocating her. She hated that she wanted him near, hated how his absence echoed louder than his presence.
A knock at the door startled her, breaking the fragile calm. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Slowly, she stood and crossed the room, the parchment folded in her palm. The door creaked open, and a cool breeze slipped inside, carrying the scent of damp earth and something wild.
“Kael?” she whispered, hope and hesitation tangled in her voice.
No answer. Just the empty corridor beyond, silent and still.
She hesitated, then stepped outside, the cool stone floor grounding her racing thoughts. The courtyard was bathed in pale light, the garden’s strange blooms shimmering faintly. She caught movement from the corner of her eye—a shadow slipping behind a column.
“Who’s there?” Her voice was steady, but her heart hammered.
No reply. Only the soft rustling of leaves.
Ariana swallowed the sudden lump of fear, reminding herself she wasn’t alone anymore. V’s message had warned her, but it also meant allies watched her back. Or at least, someone did.
She folded the parchment carefully, tucking it into her jacket. There were questions now that couldn’t wait.
“Whatever’s coming,” she said softly to the quiet garden, “I’m ready.”
Ariana paced the courtyard, the smooth stone cool beneath her bare feet. The night’s strange energy hadn’t left her—it clung like a second skin, prickling at her senses. She glanced toward the shadows where the figure had slipped away, curiosity gnawing at her.
Who was watching? And why?
Her mind raced through the possibilities. Elder Varos, known as “V,” had warned her, but about what exactly? The dangers lurking in the palace? The dark forces circling her like vultures? Or something even deeper, tied to her blood and the power she barely understood?
She touched the hidden mark on her wrist—a faint silver swirl that had appeared after the dream. She had tried to ignore it but she couldn’t any longer. It pulsed softly under her fingers, warm and alive. A sign. A tether. Or a warning.
The garden around her seemed to breathe, the flowers leaning closer as if listening. Ariana felt a sudden surge of something fierce—hope? Fear? Determination?
A sharp sound interrupted her thoughts—a distant shout from within the palace walls.
She froze.
Voices—raised, urgent. Not far.
Without thinking, she hurried toward the sound, her bare feet silent against the stone path. Around the corner, two guards stood arguing. One was a young woman, face flushed with frustration. The other, older and stern, shook his head.
“We can’t ignore the signs,” the young guard insisted. “Something’s wrong in the east wing. Lights flickering, strange noises—people are afraid.”
The older guard’s eyes narrowed. “Superstitions. The palace is old. Shadows move where the light doesn’t reach. Nothing more.”
Ariana stepped forward before the argument could grow. “What’s happening?” Her voice was steady but carried an edge of urgency.
Both guards turned toward her, surprise flickering in their eyes.
“The east wing,” the young woman said. “Rooms that have been empty for years… there’s been movement. Sounds at night. Things disappearing.”
Ariana’s heart quickened. It matched the feeling in her gut—the sense of unseen eyes, of something stirring just beneath the surface.
