The Map

They walked in heavy, unbroken silence, the cold stone walls of the castle corridor amplifying the quiet taps of their shoes. Draven glanced sideways at the enchanting little maid walking beside him. He wanted to do more for her. He had no rational explanation for the sudden, primal urge clawing at his chest, no logical reason why her worried expression twisted a tight knot in his gut. But the unsettling feeling persisted, refusing to fade into the background.

He stopped near a thick, unmarked oak door. "Look here," Draven murmured, pointing to the discreet exit. "Even servants use this back door from time to time. It is a blind spot in the castle’s architecture." He remembered it well for the sole reason that it was a glaring weakness in his own fortress, one he forced his guards to sweep on a strict rotation. "You go left when entering, then you go straight up the winding stairs to your floor. You will probably find yourself in some dusty storage room, so..."

He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out how to explain the labyrinthine layout more clearly. She stared up at him, her dark eyes wide and brimming with raw, unhidden curiosity. He knew he should not be doing this. It was a massive security risk to expose the internal grid to a stranger. He let out a low sigh, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone.

Within seconds, his thumb punched in the encrypted passcode for his security application. He scrolled past the standard, decoy blueprints, pulling up the master map of the estate. The real one. The layout that was never shared with anyone outside his elite security circle. He planned to only show her the current tower, just enough to get her back safely. There was no chance she would remember the intricate web of lines and secret passages from a passing glance.

"Watch," Draven said, angling the glowing screen toward her. He traced his finger along the digital corridors, pointing out the precise turns and the hidden doors she needed to use.

Valeria leaned in, her shoulder brushing his arm. She felt a massive surge of luck. This handsome, broad-shouldered gardener had no idea what he was doing by showing her this layout. She stared at the screen, her eyes darting greedily over the glowing blueprints. Her photographic memory snapped the intricate lines, the blind corners, and the hidden stairwells right into her brain. She burned the image into her mind in mere seconds. It was permanent now. She would never forget it.

"And thanks to that route, you’ll end up in the darkest corner of your floor," Draven said, a soft, devastating smile forming on his lips. "There, the rest will depend on your luck."

"Uhm, got it," Valeria murmured. She chewed on her bottom lip, fighting the wicked grin threatening to break across her face. This was the best possible thing he could have handed her. "Thanks." She glanced up, catching his dark eyes dropping to her mouth and lingering there with sudden, heavy heat.

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he gave a casual shrug.

Valeria reached for the brass handle of the door. A part of her desperately wanted to ask for his name, to know exactly who this man in the dirt-stained clothes was. But logic screamed at her to leave it alone. To walk away and forget this bizarre, intense encounter ever happened. She pushed the door open and took a step forward.

Before her foot could hit the stone, Draven’s large hand clamped around her wrist. His grip was firm and electric. He yanked her back, spinning her around. Her chest collided with his solid, muscular torso. He did not give her a single second to process. He dropped his head and crashed his lips down onto hers for one last, desperate taste.

It was not a gentle goodbye. It was a hungry, consuming invasion. He wrapped a massive arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his hips. She could feel the thick, rigid length of his hard cock pressing through his trousers, grinding hungrily against her stomach. His mouth devoured hers, hot and wet, his tongue parting her lips to sweep inside and taste her. Valeria gasped into his mouth, her hands instinctively flying up to grip his broad shoulders. The wet friction of his tongue and the pressure of his heavy erection sent a jagged spike of lust straight to her core. They stood in the shadows, locked in a heated embrace that stretched far longer than either of them realized.

*Valeria! Where are you?*

Soren’s panicked voice pierced through her mind-link, shattering the intoxicating haze.

Valeria tore her mouth away, her chest heaving. She shoved her hands against Draven's chest, breaking the physical contact. "I need to go!" she gasped, the words meant more for herself than for him. Her breath was ragged, her lips swollen and damp. She spun around and bolted through the door, disappearing into the dark corridor.

Draven stood frozen in the quiet hall, staring at the empty doorway. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. It had been years since he felt this lost. Lost in a storm of his own sudden, intense feelings.

He dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself to snap out of the trance. He needed to focus. But before he walked away, he opened a direct mind-link to his head guard and his sister, Princess Katerina.

"I want both of you to leave the contenders alone," Draven ordered, his tone leaving zero room for argument. "No one should be roaming their floors right now. Clear the halls. No one steps foot in the tower."

He severed the connection instantly, fully aware that neither of them would dare question his direct command. A faint, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was the least he could do to protect the little maid. Even if this fleeting moment had to be the definitive end of their story.

Valeria moved like a ghost through the silent corridors, flawlessly retracing the mental map she had stolen from the gardener’s phone. She paused at the corner leading to her suite, listening for footsteps before slipping inside her bedroom. Soren and Phaedra were already gone. She shot them a quick mind-link confirming her success, stripped off her clothes, and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. When she finally collapsed into bed, her exhausted mind did not wander to her destined mate. Instead, she drifted to sleep entirely consumed by the sensation of the gardener’s soft, demanding lips and the grip of his hands on her waist.

Hours later, the room was a whirlwind of preparation.

"Are you sure about this?" Phaedra asked, her fingers expertly working the delicate clasp of a heavy sapphire and diamond necklace around Valeria’s throat. "I still think we should have gone with the golden dress."

Soren stood nearby, meticulously adjusting the edges of a feathered masquerade mask.

"Something tells me every single girl in this castle will be wearing gold tonight," Valeria smirked, meeting Phaedra’s gaze in the tall vanity mirror. "They all want to send the loud message that they are worthy of being queens."

Phaedra had pinned Valeria’s dark hair into a relaxed, traditional braided crown, leaving a low, messy bun at the nape of her neck with a few loose curls framing her face. The style was a classic Northern look, chosen with calculated precision. Every single step she took in this territory needed to carry heavy meaning. She could not afford to leave anything to random chance.

"Shouldn't you do the same?" Soren asked, shooting her a reproachful look.

"Why?" Valeria scoffed, running a hand over the smooth bodice. "I don’t have to prove that I can be a queen. I am probably the only woman in this entire castle with pure royal blood running through her veins. I need to prove something else. I need to prove that I belong here, even despite being a Westerner."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Phaedra muttered, spraying a cloud of setting mist over the braided crown before sliding the final sapphire hairpin into place.

"This is exactly why my dress is dusky blue," Valeria said, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "In the olden days, dusky blue used to be the traditional bridal dress color in the North. They wore it with heavy fur, but fur would be too much for a modern masquerade. That is why I asked my seamstress to weave these feathers into the skirt, to create a similar effect and shape. Who knew these would be the bizarre circumstances of me wearing it? But I am damn happy I thought about it before arriving."

"It is a good thing you caught their little trick with the ink on the dress code," Soren snorted, crossing his arms. "That was so low of them, to be honest."

"What did you expect after they arranged this entire trial just to get rid of me?" Valeria giggled, the sound light and relieved.

Somehow, the weight on her chest felt lighter. She had a clear mission now. She did not have to get married. Life was getting better. And she firmly told herself it had nothing to do with her intense kisses with the gardener. She refused to think about his soft lips or how his fingers tangled in her hair. She had much bigger problems to handle. Like avenging her honor and making the Northern royal siblings regret their sneaky tactics.

Phaedra stepped forward, carefully settling the ornate mask over Valeria's eyes.

Valeria stepped back and gave her friends a slow twirl. The pale, dusky blue fabric was heavy and expensive, but the strategic placement of the feathers made it look as though she were gliding on air. Silver sequins and tiny glass beads caught the light, shimmering like scattered stars across a twilight sky. The off-shoulder design exposed her collarbones, and the daring split up the front offered total freedom of movement, providing a lethal flash of her legs.

It was a fiercely independent look. In this dress, Valeria felt as comfortable as a fish in the sea.

A sharp knock echoed through the room. Phaedra, dressed in a sleek black gown pinned with a large golden bird clasp, hurried to the door. She pulled it open to reveal a nervous-looking maid.

"Princess Katerina asks you not to be late," the maid rushed out, shoving a thick golden envelope into Phaedra’s hands before practically sprinting down the hallway.

"She is in such a rush," Soren drawled, rolling his eyes.

Phaedra handed the heavy envelope to Valeria. She tore the seal without delay and pulled out the thick parchment, her eyes scanning the elegant, looping handwriting.

A slow, dark smirk stretched across Valeria’s face.

"What is it?" Soren asked, his voice thick with impatience.

"Nothing much." Valeria folded the parchment, popped open the secret compartment beneath her makeup box, and tossed the letter inside. "Katerina really wants us to get to the ball on time. She was even kind enough to give me strict, step-by-step directions on where to go."

"That is unexpectedly nice of her," Phaedra said, checking the grandfather clock in the corner.

"If only her meticulous instructions didn't lead me directly to a remote inventory room at the very back of the castle," the Lycan princess snorted.

She shook her head, unable to fathom that this grown woman hated her enough to orchestrate such a childish, spiteful trap. The consequences of arriving late or getting lost in the restricted zones could have been a disaster for her standing in the trials. But Katerina did not know about Valeria’s mind. She did not know that her photographic memory would never let her get lost in this fortress, all thanks to one very handsome gardener.

"Bitch," Phaedra hissed under her breath. She quickly smoothed down her black skirt, regaining her composure. "Anyway, shall we? Now we just have to make sure we arrive early."

"I like the way you think," Soren grinned, stepping between the two women and offering them both an arm. They gladly accepted, their pulses thrumming with anticipation.

Thanks to the mental map, Valeria navigated the labyrinth of the castle with lethal precision. In less than a few minutes, they stood just out of sight of the towering, gilded doors leading to the main ballroom. Princess Katerina stood near the entrance, greeting the guests in a blindingly bright, sparkling golden dress. She was currently in the middle of ridiculing a young girl who had the severe misfortune of arriving in a vibrant purple gown. The invitation had not featured purple ink, meaning the color was strictly prohibited tonight.

"The North always respected wits before everything," Katerina sneered, waving her hand dismissively at the humiliated girl. "We cannot have a queen who does not know the simplest of rules."

Katerina opened her mouth to deliver another cutting remark, but her gaze shifted past the crying girl and locked directly onto Valeria.

The Northern Princess physically recoiled. A loud, sharp gasp escaped Katerina’s lips before she could stop it. She slammed her mouth shut, her jaw ticking as she desperately tried to mask her bitter displeasure. It was a spectacular failure. Her shock at the failed sabotage was palpable.

The girl in purple seized the distraction, turning and fleeing down the corridor. Valeria dropped Soren's arm, signaling for her companions to enter the ballroom separately, as the contenders were obliged to do. Valeria stepped directly into Katerina’s line of sight, the dusky blue feathers of her skirt shifting around her legs.

"Valeria Ironcrest?" Katerina asked, lifting her chin to pretend she did not care much. "I am not mistaken, right?"

"Not this time," Valeria replied, flashing Katerina the most charming, razor-sharp smile, thoroughly enjoying the sudden tension crackling between them.

"What do you mean? I would never—" Katerina started, but the words died in her throat. She realized instantly what the Sunset Princess meant. She was talking about the fake instructions sent to her room. The plan to get rid of her had obviously failed.

Valeria did not step back. She leaned forward, closing the distance until she was mere inches from Katerina’s ear.

"Do not worry about it," Valeria whispered, her voice a deadly, silken purr. "I appreciate the gesture, and I promise you, I will return it when I can."

Valeria pulled back. Their eyes locked in a silent clash of wills, Valeria’s smirk deepening into a promise of war. Katerina swallowed hard, forced to stand there and live with the threat.

Not waiting for a reply or a formal dismissal, the Sunset Princess swept past the stunned royal and stepped through the grand doors into the ballroom.

The massive space was a sensory explosion. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over hundreds of guests. Everyone wore intricate masks, their faces hidden behind feathers and jewels. The official ceremony would only begin when the King arrived and the contenders were introduced, which gave Valeria crucial time to analyze the room. Masks could hide a face, but no one here could hide their scent.

Valeria moved through the crowd with measured steps, her wolf senses flaring to life. She discreetly cataloged the unique odors wafting from the guests, committing the distinct scents to memory for later use. She eventually drifted toward a quiet corner, accepting a flute of sparkling champagne from a passing tray.

She took a slow sip, enjoying the icy burn of the alcohol against her throat.

Suddenly, the heavy double doors on the far opposite side of the grand hall swung wide open. Before she even saw who stepped through, a heavy, intensely familiar scent slammed into her nostrils, making her heart hard seize in her chest.