The sacred grove looks different in daylight. Less like the place where my entire life shattered.

It should be beautiful. But all I can see is Theron with Celeste pressed against that tree. All I can smell is my own humiliation.

The High Priestess waits at the center, she looks smaller somehow, more fragile in the morning light. But her eyes—those ancient, knowing eyes—are as sharp as ever.

“Princess Lyralei.” She inclines her head.

“Please don’t call me that.” The words come out more raw than I intended. “I’m getting tired to remind people that I’m still just Kira.”

Something softens in her expression. “Very well, child. Come. Sit with me.”

She gestures to the stone, and after a moment’s hesitation, I join her.

“You wanted to see me,” I say when the silence stretches too long.

“I did.” The Priestess’s weathered hands fold in her lap. “Before you leave for court, there are things you need to know. Truths I’ve kept for too long.”

My stomach tightens. “More secrets?”

“Not secrets. Protections.” Her eyes meet mine. “Your mother—Queen Elara—was my dearest friend. When she became Queen, I became High Priestess. We were sisters in everything but blood.”

The words hit me strange. My mother. I’m still not used to thinking of Queen Elara as my mother.

Nessa was my mother. The woman who braided my hair and smelled like sage and died too young.

“She came to me the night she found out about the prophecy,” the Priestess continues. Her voice goes distant, remembering. “Pregnant with twins. Desperate. Terrified.” Her expression hardens. “So she chose to save you both the only way she knew how—by making you disappear.”

“By making me a prisoner of some pack.”

“By keeping you safe.” The Priestess’s hand finds mine, warm and papery. “She loved you, child. More than her crown, more than her throne. She gave up everything to protect you.”

The words make my throat tight. I pull my hand away. “You said there were things I needed to know. Plural.”

The Priestess is quiet for a long moment. Then: “The mate bond between you and Alpha Theron. When did you first feel it?”

The question catches me off guard. “I… when I turned eighteen. The pull started then. By nineteen, I knew he was my mate.” I force myself to remember, even though it hurts. “He felt it too. I thought…” My voice cracks. “I thought it meant something.”

“It did mean something.” The Priestess’s voice goes cold. “It meant someone was manipulating you.”

The world tilts. “What?”

“The mate bond doesn’t form that way, Kira. Not naturally.” She turns to face me fully, and there’s something terrible in her eyes. “True mate bonds are gifts from the Moon Goddess. They forming the second both wolves recognize their other half.”

“But—”

“But you couldn’t shift. You had no wolf.” Her words are gentle but devastating. “How could a mate bond form when half of you didn’t exist yet?”

The question hangs in the air like a blade.

“Someone made it happen,” the Priestess says quietly. “Someone bound you to Theron with forbidden magic. When you were powerless. When you couldn’t fight back or even know what was being done to you.”

No. No, that can’t be…

“You were never meant to be his,” she continues. “The bond was artificial. Created. Forced.”

The grove spins. I grab the edge of the stone to steady myself. “Why would someone…”

“To keep you weak. Bound. Trapped in this pack.” The Priestess’s voice is hard now, angry. “Whoever did this knew what you were. Knew you were the lost princess. And they didn’t want you to claim your power.”

My mind races, trying to piece it together.

“What truth?”

“Why they went to such lengths to cage you. What they’re afraid you’ll become if you claim your full power.”

She releases me, stepping back.

“Your mother hid you to save your life. But whoever forced that bond onto you—they had a different plan entirely.”

My mind is reeling. The mate bond was fake. Someone’s been manipulating me for years. And I’m walking straight into a court where at least one person wants me controlled.

Or dead.

We stand in the sacred grove, surrounded by wildflowers and ancient oaks and the ghost of every lie I’ve ever believed.

“What do I do?” The question comes out small, lost.

The Priestess reaches up, cupping my face with both hands.

“You survive, child. You walk into that court with your head high. You learn who your enemies are. And when the time comes—” her eyes flash silver, power crackling in the air, “—you make them regret ever trying to cage a Bloodmoon.”

She drops her hands, and the power fades. She’s just an old woman again, tired and worried.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For telling me. For helping my mother hide me. For—” My voice breaks. “For everything.”

“Go,” she says gently. “The King’s caravan will leave soon. Don’t keep them waiting. And Kira?”

I turn back.

“When you find out who did this—and you will—remember that vengeance is a double-edged blade.” Her eyes are ancient, knowing. “Make sure you’re willing to bleed for it.”