On her thirty-seventh attempt to escape, Lilianna finally grasped one undeniable truth: the walls of Wolfgang Castle could breathe.
This was no metaphor.
At two o'clock in the morning of the seventh day, she reached the concealed door beneath the eastern tower—information she had coaxed from a drunken guard at the cost of three vials of calming incense—when the vines clinging to the stone suddenly stirred. They writhed like serpents, coiling around her wrist and gently yet inexorably guiding her back into the corridor. When they released her, they left behind a small silver-blue leaf in her palm, its veins shimmering faintly in the moonlight.
"Moonshade vines," a voice said from the darkness. "They obey only the king."
Arthas emerged from the shadows, leaning casually against a column, idly tossing a glowing moonlong stone from hand to hand. He wore nothing but a black robe, its collar loose, revealing his collarbones and the firm plane of his chest. He was barefoot, as though he had merely wandered here on a whim.
Lilianna swiftly hid her hand behind her back, though the leaf scorched her skin. "Are you always this idle at night, Your Majesty?"
"Only on the nights you try to flee." Arthas approached, the hem of his robe whispering over the stone floor. He stopped before her and inhaled lightly. "Lavender, valerian root… and a trace of rosemary. You've laced your incense with sedatives, yet your heart is still racing."
His hand rose without warning and pressed against the side of her neck, thumb resting on her pulse. Heat radiated from his skin—unnaturally intense.
"Afraid?" he murmured, his amber-gold eyes flickering like ghostly flames in the dim corridor.
"Angry," Lilianna replied, meeting his gaze. "You've caged me here like some rare bird."
"A bird?" Arthas chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. "No, my dear. Birds are plucked by nobles and stuffed into glass cases. You—"
His other hand lifted, fingertips brushing the moonlong stone adorning her forehead. The gem bloomed with a gentle silver light, illuminating the narrow space between them.
"—would be carved open alive, so they could see whether the heart of the Silver Moon bloodline truly glows beneath moonlight."
Lilianna froze.
Arthas's hand slid to her back and gave a light push. "Go back to your room. Tomorrow will bring you a surprise."
---
The surprise arrived at breakfast.
Lilianna stared at the long table piled high with parchment scrolls, crystal vials, and peculiar instruments. The fried egg slipped from her fork and landed back on her plate.
"From today onward," Arthas said from the head of the table, calmly slicing his steak, "your tutor in etiquette, history, and swordsmanship will be me."
Her eyes widened. "You… personally?"
"Personally." He looked up, the corner of his mouth curving into an ambiguous smile. "After all, who understands the darkness of this court better than the Wolf King? Who comprehends the essence of curses better than the cursed? And who—" he emphasized the phrase deliberately, "—who cares more about your survival than your bonded partner?"
Captain Gareth, standing nearby, stiffened almost imperceptibly.
"But you are the ruler of an entire kingdom," Lilianna protested. "You have countless affairs to manage—"
"Precisely why," Arthas interrupted, setting down his knife and fork and dabbing his lips with a napkin, "I know which lessons matter, and which are a waste of time. For instance—"
He snapped his fingers. Servants immediately cleared the breakfast and unfurled a massive map that nearly covered the entire table. It was no ordinary chart, but a magical diagram etched onto translucent dragonhide. Every chamber of the castle shimmered with points of light: gold, red, and moving silver.
"Lesson one in court survival: know your battlefield." Arthas rose and circled behind Lilianna. As he leaned close, warm breath brushed her ear. "Gold marks allies—three at present, including your maid, Ella. Red marks confirmed enemies. Silver denotes those whose loyalties remain undecided."
His finger tapped the throne hall at the center of the map. "Here, the red is thickest. At every council meeting, you will be surrounded by no fewer than twelve people who wish you dead."
Lilianna stared at the pulsing red lights. "How do you know all this…?"
"A wolf's nose," he murmured, so softly only she could hear. "The scent of fear, of lies, of murderous intent. Every secret is written in sweat and heartbeat. And in the three days before the full moon, my senses sharpen beyond measure."
His fingertips brushed the back of her neck, sending a shiver through her.
"For example, your pheromones tell me you want to push me away—and yet you're drawn to me. Contradictory, but honest."
Lilianna shot to her feet, her chair screeching across the floor. "That is not part of the lesson!"
Arthas straightened, amusement flashing in his eyes. "That is the lesson, Lilianna. In this court, everything revolves around power, desire, and survival. And you are now my wife. Whether you accept it or not, that identity alone provokes countless reactions—including my own."
He turned toward the fireplace and reached barehanded into the flames, withdrawing a sealed silver cylinder. The fire licked his skin without leaving a mark.
"Lesson two: understand your value." Arthas crushed the cylinder and removed a sheet of paper as thin as cicada wings. "Intercepted this morning—from a southern lord. He offers one hundred thousand gold coins for the living Silver Moon Daughter. Additional stipulations: the method of bloodline extraction must be complete, and the heart must continue beating for at least three hours for study."
Nausea rose in Lilianna's throat.
Arthas tossed the letter into the fire, where it vanished in an instant. "That is why you cannot leave. Out there, you are merchandise. Here, at least, you are my queen."
"What's the difference?" Lilianna's voice trembled. "It's still imprisonment."
"The difference," Arthas said, turning from the fire, his form shrouded in flickering light and shadow, "is that here, your captor will teach you how to imprison others."
He clapped his hands.
A side door opened, and six attendants entered, each carrying a tray. The covers were lifted to reveal not jewels or gowns, but a moonlong-stone dagger, a vial of starlit potion, a ring engraved with intricate runes, a silver chain as thin as hair, an ancient book bound in human skin—and—
A pair of silver manacles, lined with black velvet.
"Choose," Arthas said. "Your first weapon."
Lilianna surveyed the unsettling array. "And if I choose none?"
"Then you won't survive next week's Harvest Festival ball." His tone was as casual as discussing the weather. "Duke Reginald has already arranged an 'accident': poisoned wine laced with silver dust, a staircase that gives way, or a wrong turn leading into the castle's depths—into a den of feral werewolves, starved for half a month."
Her fingers curled tightly into her palms. She stepped forward, examining each item in turn.
The dagger was too conspicuous. The potion's effects were unknown. The ring might conceal a trap. The chain was fragile. The book required time.
She picked up the manacles.
Arthas raised an eyebrow. "An intriguing choice. Why?"
"Because they look most like a restraint," Lilianna said, turning them over, the velvet lining cool and soft. "And I am already a prisoner. I may as well accept the role."
Arthas studied her for a long moment, then laughed—not cold or mocking, but genuine, warm.
"Very well." He took the manacles, his fingers tracing the runes along their edge. "These are no ordinary shackles. They are called the Moonshadow Pact. A pair of twin cuffs—one for you, the other—"
He rolled up his left sleeve, revealing an identical silver cuff already fastened to his wrist, fitted as elegantly as jewelry.
"—is here. When either wearer faces mortal danger, the other will heat and tighten, transmitting images and location through moonlight. In theory, it allows one to teleport to the other at the moment of death."
Lilianna stared. "You've been wearing it all this time?"
"Since the night we sealed the Blood Moon curse." Arthas lowered his sleeve. "Don't be touched too quickly. This is largely for my own sake—if you die, so do I. Protecting you is self-preservation."
Yet his eyes betrayed him. For a fleeting instant, Lilianna glimpsed something else there—an ancient loneliness, buried beneath cursed pain.
"Now," Arthas said evenly, "put it on. And then we begin the real training."
Lilianna fastened the cuff around her right wrist. The instant the metal sealed against her skin, a strange resonance coursed through her—she could faintly sense the warmth at Arthas's wrist, even the steady, powerful rhythm of his pulse.
"Lesson three," Arthas said suddenly, seizing her wrist and pulling her closer, "and the most important one of all: how to please me."
Lilianna's heart skipped a beat.
"Don't misunderstand," he continued, his thumb grazing the edge of the cuff, his gaze dangerous. "In this court, your chances of survival are directly proportional to how interested I am in you. If I grow bored, if I decide you're no longer worth the trouble, my protection vanishes. So—"
He lowered his head until the tip of his nose nearly touched hers.
"—keep me interested, Lilianna. With your intelligence. Your courage. With those peculiar ideas you bring from the common world. Prove that you're not merely 'medicine,' but someone worthy of standing at my side."
Their breaths mingled. She caught the scent of cedar and cold iron on him, layered with something deeper—wilderness, moonlight, a power long restrained.
"And if I don't want to please anyone?" she asked softly, without retreating.
Arthas's lips curved again. "Then you already have. Because defiance is far more interesting than obedience."
He released her and stepped back. "Lessons resume this afternoon. For now, I have to deal with a pack of idiots attempting to set the granaries on fire. And you—"
He snapped his fingers. The moonshadow vines along the wall writhed again, weaving themselves into a floating chair.
"—will study the genealogies of the noble houses. Get one name wrong, and you lose a dish at dinner. Ten wrong, and you spend the night working in the kitchens. Twenty…" He reached the door, then glanced back with a meaningful look. "You'll come to my study and explain, in person, how something so simple defeated you."
After the door closed, Lilianna stared at the vine-wrought seat, then at the mountain of parchment scrolls piled on the table.
She drew a slow breath and sat.
At once, the vines coiled around her waist and arms, gently securing her, then began to sway in a slow, rhythmic motion, like a mother's cradle. A scroll unfurled on its own, hovering before her; the names upon it glowed and pulsed.
This was no learning tool—it was another exquisite cage.
Yet Lilianna did not struggle. She looked at the silver cuff on her wrist, felt the faint, persistent resonance, and suddenly understood: Arthas Wolfgang was protecting her in the only way he knew—by drawing her into his territory, marking her as his, guarding her as a wolf guards its young.
Domineering. Twisted. Effective.
She began to memorize the ancient, tongue-twisting names and their tangled marriage alliances. Each correct answer coaxed a small silver flower from the vines, releasing a soothing fragrance. Each mistake prompted the vines to tighten slightly, a gentle but unmistakable reminder.
Two hours later, when she flawlessly recited all the marital ties within three generations of Duke Reginald's line, the entire chair burst into bloom, a profusion of silver blossoms whose petals drifted and spun around her.
The door opened.
Arthas leaned against the frame, a fresh wound on his arm slowly knitting itself closed. Soot dusted his clothes, but his eyes were bright.
"Not bad," he said. "Only eight names wrong."
Lilianna looked up. "The fire in the granaries?"
"Extinguished. The arsonists were fed to what lives in the dungeons." He stepped inside; the petals parted instinctively before him. "You care about that?"
"I care about whether my dinner will be missing a dish."
Arthas laughed—this time, genuinely at ease. "It won't. On the contrary, you've earned a reward: tonight, you may ask me one question. Any question. I will answer honestly."
Her heartbeat quickened as she studied the man before her—tyrant and guardian, jailer and teacher, wolf and king.
"May I ask now?"
"Yes."
She rose and walked through the drifting petals until she stood before him. The vines withdrew on their own, clearing her path.
"On the night of the Blood Moon," Lilianna said, meeting his gaze, "why did you choose to believe I could calm you? You had never seen me before. You didn't know I could sing. You weren't even certain I truly carried the Silver Moon bloodline. Why, in that state, did you dare place your life in the hands of a stranger?"
Arthas fell silent.
The fire crackled softly; petals settled like a fall of silver snow.
"Because the moment you stepped into the throne hall," he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper, "I smelled moonlight. Not reflected sunlight, not the cold glow of stars, but the true, ancient moonlight that has shone upon this world since its birth. And I—"
His fingers brushed the moonstone at her brow; the gem hummed in response.
"—had walked in darkness for far too long. Even if that light were false, I was willing to leap toward it."
The air seemed to freeze.
Lilianna gazed into the amber-gold abyss of his eyes, saw the curse roiling within—and, at its depths, a glimmer of light not yet extinguished.
Suddenly, the cuffs grew warm.
Not with warning heat, but with a gentle, pulsing resonance, as if two hearts were beating in unison through metal and moonlight.
Arthas glanced down at the cuff, then back at her. "It's adapting to our bond. The Blood Moon curse combined with the Moonshadow Pact… the tie between us is deeper than I anticipated."
"Do you regret it?" Lilianna asked softly.
"Regret?" Arthas clasped her cuffed hand and lifted it, bringing their wrists together. Both cuffs flared with a soft silver glow, runes flowing as if alive.
"Lilianna Green, in my long and shadowed life, this is the decision I regret least of all."
Outside the window, night fell, the new moon curved like a hook in the sky.
Deep within the castle, in a hidden chamber, the silver mirror rippled once more. No longer did it reflect darkness, but the image of Lilianna and Arthas standing side by side, the silver light at their wrists merging into a perfect circle.
Beyond the mirror, a black-gloved hand brushed the image.
"The bond is deepening," a low voice murmured. "Excellent. Continue observing. When the Silver Moon fully awakens, when the Wolf King utterly succumbs… that will be the moment of harvest."
The mirror shuddered, the image fading.
Yet this time, the reflection of Lilianna seemed to tilt her head slightly, emerald eyes piercing beyond time and space.
Then she smiled.
A smile cold, lucid, and awake.