Isla's POV
"Absolutely not."
I stare at Eliza in horror. "I can't go in there. I can't face all those people."
"You must, Miss." She adjusts the emerald gown she's dressed me in. "His Majesty requested your presence at court. It's not optional."
My hands won't stop shaking. Through the massive doors ahead, I hear voices. Laughter. The sound of nobles who all hate me.
"They're going to tear me apart," I whisper.
"Then don't let them see you bleed." Eliza squeezes my hand. "You're the moon's chosen. Act like it."
The guards open the doors before I can run.
The throne room falls silent.
Every head turns. Every eye locks on me. The weight of their stares is suffocating.
I force my legs to move. One step. Another. The walk to Kieran's throne feels like a mile.
Whispers follow me like poison.
"Look at her dress. Trying to look like a real noble."
"Pathetic."
"I heard she bewitched the king with dark magic."
"My maid has better posture."
Each word is a knife, but I keep my chin up. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.
Kieran sits on his throne, his expression unreadable. Lord Corvus stands beside him, watching me with calculating eyes. And there, near the front—Princess Seraphina. She's stunning in a silver gown, her smile sharp as glass.
I reach the throne and curtsy like Eliza taught me. My legs shake, but I don't fall.
"Your Majesty," I say quietly.
Kieran's eyes meet mine for just a moment. I see something flash in them—concern? Anger?—then it's gone.
"Lady Isla," he says formally. "Take your place."
There's a chair beside his throne. The Queen's chair. Empty for twelve years.
I sit, feeling every eye burning into me.
"Let us continue," Kieran says coldly. "Lord Ashwood, you had a petition?"
An old noble steps forward, bowing. But his eyes slide to me with disgust.
"Your Majesty, I petition that the Moon Blessing ceremony be held again. Clearly, there was an error—"
"The moon does not make errors," Kieran interrupts. His voice is ice.
"But Your Majesty, this girl is obviously not—"
"Are you questioning the moon goddess herself?" Kieran leans forward slightly, and the noble pales.
"N-no, Your Majesty. I simply meant—"
"Then your petition is denied." Kieran waves his hand dismissively. "Next."
More nobles come forward with "concerns." Each one is really just an attack on me dressed up in fancy words.
She's too young. Too weak. Too common. Not educated. Not trained.
I sit there taking it, my nails digging into my palms. Kieran denies each petition, his voice growing colder with every one.
But he never looks at me. Never defends me with more than a few icy words.
Because I'm just a duty to him. A burden he has to bear.
"Refreshments will be served," Lord Corvus announces. "A brief recess before we continue."
Servants appear with trays of wine and small cakes. The nobles gather in groups, their whispers and laughter directed at me.
I want to disappear. To run. But I'm trapped in this chair, on display like some exotic animal.
Princess Seraphina approaches, wine glass in hand. Her smile is poison-sweet.
"Lady Isla," she purrs. "How are you finding court? Not too overwhelming, I hope?"
"I'm fine, Your Highness." My voice barely shakes.
"Oh, please. Just Seraphina." She moves closer, her dress rustling. "We'll be seeing so much of each other. After all, I practically grew up in this palace."
Unlike me, she means.
"I'm sure you have so much to learn," she continues. "Court protocol, history, how to conduct yourself properly. It must be terribly difficult for someone of your... background."
Heat rises in my cheeks, but I force myself to stay calm.
"The moon chose me," I say quietly. "I must trust that she knew what she was doing."
Seraphina's eyes flash with rage. "The moon made a mist—"
She gestures dramatically with her wine glass.
Red wine splashes across my dress. Down the front. Soaking into the emerald silk.
The court gasps. Then—laughter.
"Oh!" Seraphina presses her hand to her mouth in fake shock. "I'm so sorry! How clumsy of me!"
The nobles laugh louder. Someone whispers, "She can't even avoid wine. How will she avoid assassins?"
More laughter.
I sit frozen, wine dripping onto my lap. Humiliation burns through me hotter than any fire.
This isn't an accident. She did this on purpose. To remind me that I don't belong here. That I never will.
"Perhaps you should go change, Lady Isla," Seraphina says sweetly. "You look absolutely drenched."
I start to stand, wanting nothing more than to run from this room.
Then I see Kieran.
He hasn't moved from his throne. But his eyes—his eyes are blazing silver. His hand grips the armrest so hard I hear stone crack.
He's furious.
For me.
The realization steals my breath.
But he says nothing. Does nothing. Just sits there, his jaw clenched, watching me with those burning eyes.
Because what can he do? Punish a princess for an "accident"? It would make him look weak. Make me look like I need protecting.
I understand suddenly. This is a test.
If I run crying, I prove everyone right. That I'm weak. Unworthy. A mistake.
But if I stay...
I sit back down, wine-soaked dress and all.
"That's quite alright, Princess," I say clearly. "I've had worse spilled on me. Wine washes out."
Seraphina's smile freezes.
The laughter dies.
I keep my head high, even though I want to die inside. Even though wine is seeping through to my skin, cold and humiliating.
"Shall we continue, Your Majesty?" I ask Kieran.
Something flashes in his eyes. Pride? Approval?
"Yes," he says, his voice rough. "We shall."
The rest of court passes in a blur. I barely hear the petitions. Barely register anything except the wine sticking to my skin and the nobles' whispers.
Finally, mercifully, it ends.
"Court dismissed," Kieran announces.
Everyone files out. I stand on shaking legs, desperate to escape.
"Lady Isla." Kieran's voice stops me. "A moment."
The throne room empties until it's just us. And Lord Corvus, still standing near the throne.
Kieran stands, moving toward me. Up close, I see the barely controlled fury in his eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asks quietly.
"I'm fine." The lie tastes bitter.
"She did that on purpose."
"I know."
"I should have—" He stops, his jaw clenching. "I wanted to rip her apart."
The admission shocks me. His wolf wanted to protect me. Even if the man wouldn't.
"But you didn't," I say softly. "Because that would make me look weak. I understand."
His eyes search mine. "You handled it well."
"I've had practice being humiliated." The words come out more bitter than I intended.
Something pained crosses his face. "Isla—"
"May I be excused, Your Majesty?" I don't want his pity. "I'd like to change."
He hesitates, then nods. "Of course."
I turn to go.
"Lady Isla," Lord Corvus calls out. His voice is smooth as silk. "Might I have a word? Privately?"
Every instinct screams danger. But he's the king's advisor. I can't refuse.
"Of course, my lord."
Kieran frowns. "Corvus, perhaps later—"
"It will only take a moment, Your Majesty. Some advice for our new queen." Corvus smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
Kieran looks between us, clearly torn. Finally, he nods. "I'll be in my study."
He leaves. And I'm alone with Lord Corvus.
The doors close with a heavy thud.
Corvus circles me slowly, like a predator studying prey.
"You did well today," he says. "Most would have run crying."
"Thank you, my lord."
"But let me give you some advice, child." He stops in front of me, his eyes cold. "Know your place."
"My place is beside the king. The moon chose—"
"The moon chose wrong." His voice drops to a deadly whisper. "You're an imposter playing dress-up. Everyone knows it. Especially His Majesty."
My chest tightens. "He accepted the moon's choice."
"He accepted his duty. Don't mistake that for care." Corvus leans closer. "You're a political necessity. Nothing more. Once the wards are restored and the kingdom is secure, you'll become... expendable."
Fear slides cold down my spine.
"His Majesty would never—"
"His Majesty is a king before he is a man. He's already lost one family to love and attachment. Do you really think he'll make that mistake again?" Corvus's smile is cruel. "Especially with a girl who can't even shift? Who brings nothing but danger and instability?"
Each word is a poison dart, hitting its mark.
"Now, here's my advice," Corvus continues. "Make yourself useful. Stay quiet. Don't cause problems. And perhaps—just perhaps—you'll survive long enough to see your first anniversary."
He walks away, his footsteps echoing.
"Oh, and Lady Isla?" He pauses at the door. "Lock your chambers at night. The palace can be very dangerous for those who don't belong."
He leaves.
I stand there, wine-soaked and shaking.
Lock your chambers at night.
Just like the whispered threat last night.
The same words. The same warning.
My blood runs ice cold.
It was him.
Lord Corvus—the king's trusted advisor—was the one outside my door last night.
Which means he's the one who wants me dead.
And he just told me, to my face, that I won't survive.