"Are you deaf? I said Elara just ran into the Shadow Woods!" Tara hissed, shoving my shoulder to get my attention.

"The forbidden zone? Is she insane?" Mira asked, dropping her polishing cloth.

I froze. The ceremonial silver bowl slipped from my grasp, clattering against the stone altar. Water spilled over the ancient runes, soaking my sleeves.

"When did she leave?" I asked, grabbing Tara's forearm.

"Two minutes ago," Tara squeaked, shrinking back from my grip. "She sprinted right past the guards during the shift change. Just took off without a single word."

"Did anyone try to stop her?"

"Gael yelled at her, but she ignored him. She looked frantic. Like she was racing against a clock."

I released Tara's arm. My pulse hammered a rapid rhythm against my ribs.

*She went to the woods.*

*She knows.*

A sharp vision pierced my skull. Searing pain. A silver blade twisting in my back. Elara standing over me, wearing a crown woven of night-shade, her voice laced with poison.

*"Thanks for the prince, sister. I'll take it from here."*

In that past life, I was the one who wandered into the woods. I found the bleeding Prince. I stopped his hemorrhage. I became the kingdom's savior.

And Elara spent three years plotting in the shadows until she stole my title, my mate, and my life.

Now, she was sprinting straight toward the clearing. She was stealing the starting line.

The shock evaporated from my veins. A cold, sharp calm settled over my skin.

"Let her go," I said.

Mira stared at me, her eyes wide. "But the elders will punish her! The wolves out there—"

"I said, let her go."

"Lyra, she could die!"

"She won't die," I replied, turning back to the altar to pick up the fallen bowl. "She knows exactly what she's doing."

A heavy horn blast shattered the morning air.

The ground trembled beneath our boots. The plaza erupted into chaos as members of the Thorne pack scrambled out of the way.

"The Black Wolf Cavalry!" a guard shouted from the watchtower. "Open the iron gates!"

Massive dire wolves, coats black as pitch, stormed into the courtyard. Armored riders sat atop them, carrying the silver-moon banners of the Royal House. The beasts snarled, their massive paws cracking the paving stones.

The lead rider pulled his mount to a halt. The wolf snapped its jaws, silencing the murmuring crowd.

"Hear this!" the commander barked, lifting his visor. "Alpha Prince Kaelen has been found!"

Whispers swept through the plaza like wildfire.

"He survived the ambush?" Mira whispered, clutching her hands to her chest.

"Silence!" the commander roared. "The Prince survived. And he has found his savior. He returns now to present his chosen bride."

"Bride?" Elder Faron gasped, stepping out from the sanctuary steps. "He chooses a mate today? But the trials—"

"The Royal decree stands," the commander interrupted. "The one who saved the Royal bloodline shall share the throne. No trials are necessary."

The crowd parted, forming a wide aisle toward the altar.

I didn't need to push through the throng to see them.

Elara stepped into the morning light. Her dress was torn at the hem, her hands stained with dried blood. She clung to the arm of Alpha Prince Kaelen.

He towered over her, a mountain of muscle encased in dark leather armor. Blood soaked his left side, but he walked with terrifying authority.

I kept my eyes fixed entirely on my sister.

Our gazes locked.

Elara’s chin tilted up. A triumphant smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

It was the exact same expression she wore the day she ordered my execution.

Memory and reality slammed together. The metallic tang of blood in my mouth. The cold stone floor of the dungeon. Now, the sunlit plaza.

She thought she won. She thought she outsmarted me by stealing the prize before I even realized the game had started.

"I am the one," Elara announced, her voice ringing out across the silent crowd. She squeezed Kaelen's bicep. "I found him bleeding in the ferns. I bound his wounds. I saved the future King."

Gasps echoed around us.

"Elara..." our father murmured, stepping forward from the ranks of the elders. His face was pale. "You went into the Shadow Woods? You broke the pack laws?"

"I followed a vision from the Moon Goddess," Elara lied flawlessly, raising her chin. "She guided my steps. Would you punish me for obeying the divine?"

Our father shut his mouth, bowing his head.

She didn't look at him anymore. Her eyes remained pinned on me.

"Isn't that right, Lyra?" she asked.

"I wasn't in the woods," I replied, keeping my tone perfectly flat.

"No. You weren't." Elara let go of the Prince's arm and took two steps toward me. "You were here. Safe. Washing bowls while I risked my life to save our Prince."

Kaelen grunted, shifting his weight. "She is brave," he stated, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through the stones. "She will be my Princess."

The commander of the cavalry slammed his spear against the cobblestones. "Bow to your future Princess!"

The elders dropped to their knees. The guards followed, weapons clattering against the ground.

Mira sank down beside me, tugging desperately at my skirt. "Lyra, get down!" she hissed. "Are you crazy?"

Elara waited.

She wanted this. She craved the submission. She wanted to ensure I knew my place in this new timeline. She wanted to see me broken.

I stared at her dirt-smudged face.

If I fought her now, I would sound like a jealous lunatic. If I claimed I was supposed to be the savior, they would execute me for treason.

But I didn't want to fight her.

I wanted to laugh.

I lowered myself to the stone. The rough rock scraped my bare knees. I placed my hands on the ground.

I kept my head bowed, hiding my face from the crowd.

A slow, quiet smile stretched across my lips.

*Take him, sister,* I thought.

She remembered the glory of being the Prince’s mate. She remembered the crown, the wealth, the absolute power.

But she didn't know the truth. She didn't know about the curse that rotted Kaelen's mind, turning him into a bloodthirsty tyrant. She didn't know he would eventually slaughter his own court, bathing the palace in blood. I had shielded her from all of that in our past life. I bore his madness alone.

Now, she was walking right into the monster's jaws.

"Congratulations, sister," I said aloud, my voice smooth and perfectly submissive. "May your union bring you exactly what you deserve."

"Oh, it will," Elara whispered, stepping close enough that only I could hear. "I'll make sure you get exactly what you deserve, too."

She turned back to her doomed prince, completely unaware that she had just stolen my death sentence.

I stayed on my knees, playing the part of the defeated sibling. Let her wear the crown. Let her bask in the cheers.

She had no idea what happened when the sun went down and the Prince locked the bedroom doors.

Let her be his savior. I would be his survivor.

"Move," a royal guard grunted, shoving me through the arched doorway of the Moon Goddess Castle annex.

Vala, an older priestess from our coven, stumbled in right behind me. The heavy oak door slammed shut, the iron lock engaging with a loud clank.

"Bridesmaids," Vala spat, straightening her grey robes. "They drag us from the sanctuary at dusk and lock us in here to polish silver. It's an insult to the Goddess."

"It’s an order from the Alpha Prince," I said, walking toward the long wooden table. "We polish the silver, or we lose our heads."

Piles of wedding garments and ceremonial jewels cluttered the surface. Right in the center sat an open velvet box.

"Look at this," Vala murmured, reaching for it.

"Don't," I warned, snatching the box before her fingers brushed the metal.

Inside rested the royal betrothal token. A thick iron choker plated in silver, studded with raw garnets.

"A collar," Vala whispered, her eyes wide. "For a bride?"

"It signifies eternal loyalty," I lied smoothly.

I dragged my thumb over the rough edge of the center stone. In my past life, this heavy metal ring locked around my throat on my wedding night. I knew exactly what hid beneath the silver plating. Runes of suppression. When Kaelen’s bloodlust flared, the collar heated up, burning the skin to keep the wearer docile. It wasn’t a romantic gift. It was a leash.

"Take it out," Vala urged, grabbing a cloth. "Let me polish the stones."

"No need. It's perfectly ready for my sister." I snapped the lid shut.

"He's dangerous, Lyra," Vala said, lowering her voice. "They say he tore three rogues apart with his bare hands during the ambush. Elara is a fool to want him."

"She made her choice."

A sharp knock interrupted us. The door swung open, revealing a pale maid in royal livery.

"Lyra of the Thorne pack," the maid announced. "The future Princess demands your presence in the master suite."

I followed the maid through the winding, torch-lit corridors. The air grew thicker the higher we climbed into the Alpha’s private wing.

"Wait here," the maid instructed, gesturing to the heavy double doors. She scurried away down the hall.

Before I could knock, the left door yanked open.

Alpha Prince Kaelen stepped out.

I immediately dropped my gaze to the floorboards. I kept my chin tucked, staring at the scuffed leather of his boots. He didn't even pause. He strode past me, his massive frame radiating heat, his hands busy buckling his heavy leather belt over his bare stomach.

The scent hit me instantly.

Musk, sweat, and the sharp, metallic tang of an Alpha's bite.

They had already mated. She hadn't even waited for the ceremony.

I stepped into the bedchamber and shut the door.

The room was a disaster. Smashed pillows, torn silk sheets, and overturned chairs painted a picture of absolute chaos.

Elara sat at the vanity, wrapped in a sheer silk robe. She dragged a gold-bristled brush through her tangled hair.

"You called for me, sister?" I asked, keeping my hands folded in front of my skirt.

"Leave us," Elara ordered the two servants cowering in the corner.

They scrambled out of the room, shutting the door tightly behind them.

Silence stretched between us.

Elara set the brush down. She stood up and walked toward me. Her bare feet made no sound on the thick rugs.

She stopped inches from my face. A fresh, bloody bite mark scarred the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"You didn't fight for him," she said, her voice a low hiss.

"He is the Alpha Prince. I am a mere servant of the altar," I replied, my tone flat. "Why would I fight his choice?"

"Because you love him."

"I barely know him."

Elara tilted her head. She studied my face, searching for a twitch, a flinch, any sign of weakness. I gave her nothing.

"You washed bowls this morning," she whispered. "You didn't even look toward the tree line."

"I had chores."

"Liar."

Elara snatched a heavy bronze candlestick from the side table.

She swung it.

The solid metal smashed into the side of my head.

Pain exploded behind my left eye. The force knocked me sideways, sending me crashing to the stone floor. My shoulder absorbed the impact. A warm, thick liquid immediately rushed down my temple.

I didn't raise a hand to defend myself. I didn't make a sound.

I simply pushed myself up onto my knees, keeping my back straight, and looked up at her. Blood dripped off my jaw, staining the collar of my grey dress.

Elara stood over me, her chest heaving. The candlestick dangled from her grip.

"You didn't scream," she noted, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"Should I?" I asked.

"The Lyra I knew would be sobbing right now." She dropped the candlestick. It clattered violently against the stones. "She would be begging for mercy. She would be demanding to know why her beloved sister struck her."

"People change."

"No." Elara crouched down, grabbing a fistful of my hair. She yanked my head back, forcing me to expose my throat. "People don't change overnight. You knew Kaelen was in the woods. You knew, and you stayed away."

"I didn't—"

"Shut up!" She twisted my hair tighter. "You gave him to me. You let me take the glory."

"You earned it, Elara."

"Did I?" She leaned in, her nose almost touching mine. "Or did you set me up?"

I maintained my blank expression, ignoring the throbbing ache in my skull. "I don't know what you mean."

"I died," Elara whispered, the words trembling with sudden, vicious rage. "I drank poison in a damp cell while you sat on a throne. I felt my organs burn. I felt my lungs collapse. I died hating you."

My pulse hammered against my ribs.

She knew.

"And then I woke up," she continued, her grip on my hair tightening. "I woke up in my old bed, on the exact day the Prince was ambushed. I ran to the woods to steal your destiny. But you weren't even trying to get there."

She shoved my head backward and released me. I swayed but stayed upright.

"Tell me the truth," she demanded, standing tall. "Are you from the future? Do you remember?"

I stared at the blood pooling on the floor beside my knee.

She wasn't just a thief. She was a ghost, just like me.

But she had made a fatal miscalculation. She assumed the throne was a prize. She assumed my past life was a fairy tale.

I looked up, meeting her furious gaze, and let a cold smile stretch across my face.

"I remember everything, sister."

"I remember everything, sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

Elara’s face contorted. The smug triumph vanished from her features, replaced instantly by a twisted mask of pure, unadulterated hatred. She kicked my hip, the pointed toe of her bare foot digging sharply into my ribs.

"I knew it," she hissed.

I stayed on the floor. The blood from my temple dripped onto the collar of my grey dress, soaking into the cheap wool. I didn't wipe it away.

When I fell earlier, a folded piece of linen had slipped from my apron pocket. It rested on the ornate rug between us, a stark white square against the dark crimson threads of the carpet.

Elara’s gaze snapped to the fabric. She snatched it up. Her fingers trembled slightly as she shook it open.

My stomach tightened.

It was a handkerchief I had been stitching by the hearth last night. A foolish, lingering habit from my past life. I thought I had hidden it well enough beneath my plain clothes.

"What is this?" Elara demanded. She shoved the linen inches from my nose.

Red thread formed a blooming flower wrapped in thick, jagged thorns. The Blood Rose.

"A flower," I said, keeping my voice entirely flat.

"Don't play stupid with me!" She threw the cloth at my chest. It fluttered down to rest on my lap. "This is the Royal Crest. The crest of the Luna Queen. No commoner is allowed to stitch this. Where did you see it?"

"In an old tapestry," I lied. I looked up at her, keeping my expression perfectly blank. "In the pack archives. I thought the pattern was beautiful."

"Liar!"

She lunged at me. Her fingers tangled violently in my hair, gripping the roots tight. She dragged me upward with a vicious jerk. My scalp burned as she forced me to my feet.

"You didn't see it in a book," Elara snarled. Her breath was hot against my cheek. "You wore it. I saw it embroidered on your silk gowns. I saw it stamped in red wax on the letters you sent."

She stepped closer, her eyes manic.

"The same letters that signed my death warrant."

"You signed your own warrant," I replied quietly. "Treason carries one penalty. You tried to poison the King."

She yanked my head back. A sharp sting brought water to my eyes, but I refused to blink. I stared straight into her furious gaze.

"Admit it," she demanded, her voice rising to a frantic pitch. "You sat by the fire and stitched your little crowns in secret. You thought you could wait for an opening and steal him back. You want to be Queen again."

"I don't want him."

"You will never have him!" She shoved me backward with both hands.

I stumbled. My hip slammed hard against the edge of the heavy oak bed frame. I gripped the thick wood to steady myself, my knuckles turning white.

"Listen to me very carefully, Lyra," Elara said. She advanced on me, her bare feet silent on the rug. "You are nothing. You are a dirty altar servant. I am the savior of the Alpha Prince."

She stopped a foot away. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, angry jerks. The fresh bite mark on her neck looked raw and angry in the flickering candlelight. The heavy scent of Kaelen's musk clung to her skin, a sickening reminder of what she had already done to secure her place.

"If I catch you looking at him," she whispered. Her tone dropped to a venomous hiss. "If I catch you walking down his corridor, or speaking to his guards, I will have your tongue cut out."

"You are the future Princess," I said. "You have the power to do so."

"I will tell Kaelen you are a spy," she continued, ignoring my response. She pointed a trembling finger at my face. "I will tell him you plotted against the crown. He tore three rogues apart today with his bare hands. He will snap your neck before you can even scream."

"I understand."

"Do you?" she asked. Her eyes were wide, wild with a paranoia that I recognized all too well. It was the same paranoia she had in the dungeon, right before she drank the poison.

"I will never approach the Alpha Prince," I said.

I kept my expression entirely submissive. I bowed my head, staring at the polished floorboards.

It was exactly what I wanted.

Let her isolate herself with him. Let her lock the heavy oak doors every night. When the madness took Kaelen, when the curse began to rot his mind and turn him into a monster, she would have no allies. No escape.

She thought the Blood Rose was a symbol of ultimate power. She didn't realize it was a target painted directly on the Queen's back.

*Wear it proudly, sister,* I thought. *Bleed for it.*

"Swear it," Elara commanded.

"I swear on the Moon Goddess," I said, my voice smooth and unwavering. "I will never stand between you and your Prince. I will fade into the background. You won the prize, Elara. Keep him."

She stared at me. She searched my eyes for deceit, for a hidden dagger, for a trap.

Finding none, she scoffed.

"Pathetic," she muttered. She crossed her arms over her sheer silk robe. "You had a crown, and now you scrub floors. Get out of my sight. Go clean your silver."

She turned her back to me. She walked toward her vanity, picking up the gold-bristled brush to fix her ruined hair.

I turned toward the exit.

I took two steps before I stopped.

The heavy double doors weren't completely shut. A gap the width of a hand revealed the dark hallway outside.

A shadow blocked the flickering torchlight.

A tall figure stood just beyond the threshold. A large, gloved hand rested flat against the wood. They had pushed the door open silently. Broad shoulders filled the frame. A flash of silver armor gleamed in the dim light.

Someone was standing there.

Someone who had heard everything. The threats. The brutal slap. The unhinged cruelty of the sweet, innocent savior who supposedly rescued the Prince out of pure goodness.

My pulse gave a single, hard thump against my ribs.

I didn't speak. I didn't call out for help. I simply stood frozen, staring at the gap in the door.

Elara noticed my hesitation. She spun around, her silk robe flaring around her ankles.

"I said get out!" she shrieked, her face twisting in ugly rage.

Then she tracked my gaze.

She saw the open door. She saw the imposing figure standing perfectly still in the shadows.

The brush slipped from her fingers.

It hit the stone floor with a hollow, echoing thud.

Elara’s face drained of all color.