More than a month had passed since Melody discovered her unnatural ability, and she had trained relentlessly ever since. Every day, she pushed herself—testing limits she never knew existed, learning control the hard way, failing, then trying again.
She moved quickly down the corridor toward the dining hall, unwilling to miss breakfast. Eating alone was something she despised. It made the palace feel too large, too empty.
At the end of the hallway, she nearly collided with Amah.
Melody studied her. "I haven't seen you in a while."
"Oh, please," Amah replied with a tired sigh. "I've been busy with palace duties. And you've been busy becoming… whatever it is you're becoming."
Melody huffed lightly. "That's fair."
It was true. Between combat training and magic practice, she hadn't needed Amah as much as before. Her days had been consumed by discipline, exhaustion, and learning to survive her own power.
When she entered the dining hall, she went straight to her usual seat beside Orionn.
The past few weeks had changed things between them, subtly and quietly. They weren't close, not really, but they were no longer strangers either. She had learned that his coldness was partly an act and partly habit.
There were moments, rare ones, when she caught him laughing. He always tried to hide it, as if laughter were a weakness. And when he smiled…
She shook her head inwardly. It was ridiculous how disarming that smile was. Hard to believe the man she had married on her wedding day, the distant and unreadable king, had a side that felt almost human.
Livable.
Someone she could coexist with.
Maybe even understand.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," she greeted Corvus politely as she took her seat.
Orionn acknowledged her with a brief nod. She returned it.
But in front of his father, he kept his distance. No warmth. No familiarity. She noticed it, though she didn't comment. Whatever the reason, it was intentional.
Nathan entered soon after, Damon following close behind. Their presence only heightened the tension already lingering in the room. Something was brewing. She could feel it.
"The full moon is approaching," King Corvus announced calmly.
The effect was immediate.
The air shifted. Conversations died. Even the clinking of cutlery seemed too loud.
"Yes, we need to make preparations," Damon said.
Melody frowned, curiosity stirring. "Is this the full moon where you… shift?" she asked, glancing briefly at Orionn before turning to Nathan.
"Yes," Nathan replied. "That's why you haven't seen wolves in their true forms since arriving."
That explained a lot. A kingdom ruled by wolves, yet none ever seen.
"There's a rule," Nathan continued. "No shifting except during the full moon."
"Why?" Melody asked.
"Because wolves lose control during full moons," Damon said bluntly.
She tilted her head. "But you're not a wolf. How do you know that?"
"I've seen enough," Damon replied calmly. "Full moons and mixed populations don't coexist well."
"So what happens now?" Melody pressed. "Do you shift outside?"
"Yes," Nathan said. "Everyone goes to assigned locations."
Excitement bubbled inside her. She had never seen a human shift into a wolf before. The idea fascinated her.
"So you can only shift during full moons?"
"No," Nathan corrected. "Wolves can shift anytime. But the destruction is severe."
"There was a massacre," Damon added.
Nathan nodded. "Generations ago. After that, the alphas imposed a ban. Shifting is allowed only once every full moon, unless it's a life-or-death situation."
"That sounds like a cage," Melody murmured.
Nathan chuckled. "More like damage control."
She glanced at Orionn. "Including you?" she asked.
"The Alpha isn't restricted," Nathan replied.
Oh. Then why hasn't he shifted? she wondered, but kept the question to herself.
After breakfast, Corvus summoned Orionn and Nathan for a meeting. Melody was left behind.
She went to the garden.
That was where her magic training usually took place, ever since that incident.
She waited among the plants, breathing in the familiar scent of earth and leaves, grounding herself the way Orionn had taught her.
When he finally arrived, he didn't waste time.
"Let's start."
No greetings. No small talk.
She took her stance.
"Summon your magic," he instructed. "Make that plant grow fruit."
He pointed to a small, fragile seedling in front of her.
She turned sharply. "That's a seedling. You want fruit?"
"Yes," Orionn said. "You've been training for a while now."
She hesitated, then focused.
"Slowly," he said. "Don't force it."
She tried, but hit resistance. A wall. The power recoiled inside her, sharp and frustrating.
"I can't," she admitted.
"You can," he said firmly. "You're distracted. You believe you can't."
She gestured toward the plant. "What good does this even do?" she grumbled.
"A lot," he replied. "Famines happen. If you can grow food, you save lives. Entire continents."
He stepped closer.
"Now focus."
"I'll try," Melody said softly.
She closed her eyes and pictured the plant before her, not as it was, but as it could be. Roots digging deeper. Stems thickening. Leaves stretching toward the sun. She imagined fruit forming, small at first, then heavy and ripe.
She felt it.
The power flowed.
The plant shuddered, then began to grow. Slowly at first, then rapidly. Its stem thickened, branches stretched outward, leaves unfurled. Within moments, it stood as a half-grown tree, sturdy and vibrant, fruits clustered near its base.
Melody gasped and opened her eyes.
"I did it," she breathed.
"You did," Orionn affirmed. "Barely, but you did."
She smiled, unable to stop herself.
For a split second, Orionn smiled too.
Then he caught himself and masked it.
"Now," he said, straightening, "let's see your aggression. Come at me."
He stepped back into position.
This was nothing new to Melody. For months now, Orionn had drilled her relentlessly: attack, defend, adapt. She had learned to wield her power not just for destruction, but for precision. For control.
"I'm not holding back," she warned, pushing forward instantly.
"Good," he replied calmly.
She summoned a glowing green orb. It was brighter than before, denser, more controlled. She hurled it at him.
Orionn dodged effortlessly.
"Too slow," he said.
She scowled and summoned another. Then another.
Miss.
"Too slow. Your stance is wrong."
He moved behind her, close enough that his presence snapped her focus. He straightened her shoulders, adjusted her grip.
"This isn't how I taught you."
"Yes, it is."
"No," he said calmly. "Watch."
He demonstrated, fluid and precise. Magic gathered in his palm, compressed, then shot forward. The tree split instantly, fragments scattering.
"See? Now do it."
She nodded, jaw clenched.
They continued.
Again and again.
She attacked. He dodged.
She adjusted. He evaded.
Not a single hit.
Frustration burned in her chest.
This is impossible.
She kept going until her breathing became uneven and her focus slipped.
"Alright," Orionn said at last. "Take a break."
She froze, chest heaving.
"I'm still not fast enough."
"You're not slowing down," he said evenly. "I'm increasing my pace. Relax."
She forced herself to breathe.
"So," she asked, "did I improve?"
"You did."
"I didn't land a hit."
"You almost did."
"Almost doesn't count."
"Why would I lie to flatter you?" he asked. "You're a fast learner. At this rate, you could qualify for the contest."
Her heart jumped.
"The contest?"
"Yes."
She hadn't forgotten the tournament.
"Which I still think you shouldn't compete in," Orionn added.
They sat beneath an apple tree, one of the rare moments he chose to rest instead of walking away.
"You won't talk me out of it," she said firmly.
"Why do you want this so badly?" he asked. "You don't need the rewards."
She knew that was true.
"But I want to compete," she said. "If I don't face danger, I won't grow. I need to stand on my own."
There was more she wasn't saying.
Orionn noticed, but respected it.
"Then you can pass the first level," he said quietly.
"What's the first level?"
"No."
She frowned. "I'm not asking for special treatment."
"And you won't get it," he replied. "You'll compete fairly."
She sighed. "What about the second level?"
"No comment."
"You're insufferable."
"Get up," he said. "Training isn't over."
As they resumed, Orionn realized something unsettling.
Lately, he had been smiling more.
Since training with Melody, the weight of rulership—laws, councils, expectations—had loosened its grip on him, if only slightly.
She was stubborn. Difficult. Impossible.
But she was also grounding.
An escape.
And he hadn't even noticed when he'd started needing that.