Five

ARIADNE’S POV

The night had swallowed the Moonstone Citadel in an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional howl from the wilds beyond the walls. Sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not in this place where every corner seemed to hide a pair of glowing amber eyes, and every shadow carried the weight of Magnus’ dominance.

I sat near the small window of my chamber, watching the moonlight spill across the courtyard below. My fingers absently brushed against the frayed edges of the bandages wrapped tightly around my chest. It was a nightly ritual now, checking the bindings, making sure the disguise held, even though my body ached from the constant constriction.

The bindings were more than cloth; they were armor, the only thing standing between survival and exposure. If Magnus discovered the truth

that I was no prince but a girl desperate to protect her sister, it would all be over.

I reached for the fresh strip of fabric I kept tucked beneath my mattress and began the slow, deliberate process of rewrapping. My movements were careful, precise, my mind replaying every word Magnus had spoken to me earlier. His threats. His challenges. The way his amber eyes seemed to bore into my soul.

But as I tightened the binding, a sudden noise shattered my concentration, a soft shuffle outside the window. My heart stuttered, and I froze, the cloth slipping from my fingers.

Someone was watching me.

I didn’t move, my gaze flickering to the shadows just beyond the window frame. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but there, a figure, cloaked in moonlight, perched on the edge of the stone ledge like a predator stalking its prey.

“Interesting,” a voice drawled, low and smooth, carrying just enough curiosity to make my skin crawl.

I shot to my feet, clutching the loose fabric to my chest as the figure dropped gracefully to the floor of my chamber. The moonlight framed him as he straightened, revealing a man unlike anyone I’d seen in Lupania so far.

Tall and lean, he moved with the same effortless confidence as Magnus, though his presence felt… different. His dark hair was swept back in soft waves, his features sharp and elegant, like a sculpture carved from marble. But it was his eyes that caught me,their green brilliance almost unnatural, glowing faintly in the dim light.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. He had seen me, seen too much. My bindings. My hesitation. Every lie I’d carefully constructed was at risk of unraveling in an instant.

“You’re trespassing,” I said, trying to mask my panic with anger. “Get out before I call the guards.”

He laughed softly, the sound deep and rich, carrying a note of amusement that made my pulse quicken. “And here I thought you were clever. Calling the guards wouldn’t end well for either of us, now would it?”

I took a step back, putting as much distance as I could between us. “What do you want?”

“Answers,” he said simply, his gaze flickering to the discarded cloth on the floor before meeting mine again. “Who are you really?”

The question hit me like a punch to the gut, but I forced myself to stand tall, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. “I’m Ariadne, prince of Elaria.”

“Prince?” he echoed, the faintest hint of mockery in his tone. “Fascinating. Tell me, prince, do all royals bind their chests at night, or is that a tradition unique to your kingdom?”

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I kept my expression neutral. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is,” he said, taking a step closer. The movement was casual, almost lazy, but it carried an undercurrent of predatory grace that set me on edge. “You see, I’ve been watching you. And the more I watch, the less you make sense.”

My stomach twisted. “Why are you watching me?”

He stopped a few paces away, close enough for me to see the faint scar along his jawline, the way his green eyes seemed to glimmer with hidden knowledge.

“Because I like puzzles,” he said. “And you, little human, are a particularly intriguing one.”

Human. The word lingered in the air between us, heavy with implication. He knew.

I clenched my fists, my mind scrambling for a way out of this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But you can drop the act. I know you’re no prince.”

I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “What do you want from me?”

“Relax,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “If I wanted to expose you, I’d have done it already.”

The knot in my chest loosened, but only slightly. “Why haven’t you?”

He smiled, a flash of teeth that reminded me too much of Magnus. “Because I’m not Magnus.”

I blinked, his words catching me off guard. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “that I’m not like my brother.”

My breath hitched. “Your brother?”

He stepped back, giving me room to breathe as he leaned casually against the wall. “Prince Callan,” he said, gesturing to himself with a mock bow. “Half-brother, technically. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but given the circumstances…”

I stared at him, the revelation hitting me like a slap. This man, this puzzle of sharp edges and disarming charm, was related to Magnus? It seemed impossible. Where Magnus was brutal and unrelenting, Callan carried an air of quiet cunning, his movements calculated but unthreatening.

“You’re nothing like him,” I said before I could stop myself.

Callan smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I narrowed my eyes, the pieces of this new puzzle starting to fall into place. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Two things,” he said, his expression sobering. “First, to confirm what I already suspected. And second…” He hesitated, his gaze softening in a way that made my chest tighten. “To tell you that your sister is alive.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath me, my breath catching in my throat. “Elira?”

“She’s here,” Callan said. “In the west wing, with the other slaves.”

My knees nearly buckled with relief, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. She was alive. My sister was alive.

“But she’s not safe,” Callan added, his tone grim. “Not here.”

I looked up at him, desperation clawing at my chest. “Can you help her? Can you get her out?”

Callan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wish it were that simple. Magnus controls everything in this citadel. If I make a move against him, it’ll only put you both in more danger.”

“Then why tell me?” I asked, my voice breaking.

“Because you deserve to know,” he said, his green eyes locking onto mine. “And because I think you might be the only one who can change things here.”

I shook my head, disbelief crashing over me. “I’m just one person. What can I possibly do against Magnus?”

Callan’s smile returned, faint but genuine. “More than you think, Ariadne. Magnus doesn’t keep people around unless he sees something in them. If he’s testing you, it means you matter to him, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

His words settled over me, heavy with both hope and fear.

“Think about it,” Callan said, stepping toward the window. “But be careful. Magnus is watching, and he doesn’t take kindly to betrayal.”

With that, he slipped back into the shadows, leaving me alone with the weight of his revelation.

My sister was alive.

But so was the Beast King. And if I wasn’t careful, he would destroy us both.