Page 11 of Her Fated Alpha Prince (Royal Dragons of Blackwater Islands #1)

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ARIANA

The sun hadn’t yet crested the treetops when Ariana slipped from her room, a cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders. The air was still, too still—like the jungle was holding its breath. Birds that usually stirred the morning with riotous songs were quiet, and even the wind seemed to pause.

She moved quickly, feet silent on stone pathways slick with dew. She didn’t know exactly where she was going, only that her skin buzzed with the sense that staying in her room another moment would drive her mad.

The note from Elder Varos still burned in her memory. “If you feel something changing, say nothing. For now. We are being watched.”

Something was changing—had already changed. She could feel it in her bones, in her blood. A thrum beneath her skin like the jungle was inside her now, breathing with her.

And she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Ariana paused at the edge of a narrow path veiled by drooping vines. The entrance was so subtle she would have missed it if not for the faint shimmer of light—silver, like the dream fire—curling along the leaves.

She ducked through.

The path wound downward, roots tangling underfoot, the canopy thick above. It felt like stepping into the dream again. That same charged air, that same weightless pull, like something ancient was watching.

But this time, she wasn’t afraid.

When she reached the clearing, she stopped.

The pool was there. The same pool from her dream—still, glasslike, reflecting the rising light in ripples of silver and gold. It looked untouched, hidden, sacred.

And she wasn’t alone.

Elder Varos stood at the far edge of the clearing, his silver hair gleaming, his hands folded calmly in front of him.

“I wondered how long it would take you to find this place,” he said without turning.

Ariana stepped forward slowly. “You knew I would?”

“I knew you’d feel the call,” he said. “You felt it even before you arrived.”

She swallowed. “What is this place?”

He finally turned to face her. “A memory,” he said. “And a warning.”

The breeze stirred the surface of the pool, distorting her reflection. She saw flashes—her eyes glowing, vines twisting up her arms, fire blooming from her fingertips. Just images. Echoes.

She blinked, and they were gone.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s happening to me?”

Varos approached slowly, gaze measuring. “You’re waking up. Your blood remembers things your mind has forgotten. You’re not just human, Ariana.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “I already know I’m not just human,” she said, more sharply than she meant to.

He tilted his head. “Do you?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

“You were dreaming of fire,” he said. “Of vines. The jungle speaks to you. That means something.”

Ariana looked at her hands. “It feels like something is trying to get out.”

“No,” Varos said. “It’s trying to get back in.”

Ariana stared at him, a dozen questions jostling for space in her mind, none of them making it to her lips. Elder Varos looked so calm, like this revelation was nothing more than a weather report. But her hands were trembling.

“You said this is a memory,” she said finally. “Whose?”

He gestured to the pool. “Yours. This place belonged to your mother’s line. They used it to see, to listen, to remember.”

“My mother was human.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Your mother lived in the human world. That doesn’t make her one of them.”

The words hit like a blow. She tried to deny it, but the dream, the flowers, the way the forest reacted to her—it all pushed back.

“I’m not ready for this,” she whispered.

“No one ever is.” Varos crouched near the water, dipping his fingers into the pool. The surface rippled, and for a second, Ariana thought she saw a face—hers, but not hers. Older. Wilder. “But you’re not alone.”

She folded her arms tightly, bracing against the chill settling in her spine. “What happens now?”

“You learn. You listen. And above all—you survive. Because the ones watching you aren’t interested in teaching. They’re interested in controlling.”

Ariana’s mouth went dry. “Seryna?”

“She suspects what you are. But she doesn’t know everything. Yet.”

Ariana dropped to a crouch beside him. “Then help me. Teach me how to hide it.”

Varos looked at her, expression unreadable. “I will. But not here. Not yet. This place is no longer safe.”

Her fingers brushed the edge of the pool, and the water leapt—not a splash, not a wave. It arced upward like it recognized her. Varos didn’t flinch, but his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t think you understand just how loud your magic is becoming,” he murmured. “Even the forest can hear it.”

Ariana stood. “So, what do I do? Suppress it? Pretend it’s not happening?”

“You master it. Before someone else does.”

A bird cried sharply overhead, and Ariana flinched. When she looked up, the branches were shifting—leaves curling, closing, like the trees were trying to shield the clearing. It wasn’t comforting.

It was a warning.

“We need to go,” Varos said. “Now.”

Ariana followed him back through the winding path, her breath shallow, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. The shimmer on the vines was gone. The silence of the jungle had changed—less reverent now, more watchful. Like it, too, knew what she’d seen. What she’d remembered.

They emerged into the open garden behind the estate, and the moment her feet hit stone, the sounds of the world returned. Birds. Wind. Distant voices. But none of it could touch the strange clarity coiling inside her.

Kael was right. She was dangerous.

But maybe not in the way he thought.

By the time they re-entered the estate, Ariana’s skin was buzzing, her thoughts spiraling.

The house was quiet—too quiet. Even the staff kept their eyes down, moving like ghosts through the corridors.

She could feel it now, this undercurrent of tension humming beneath the silk and stone.

They were being watched. Just like the note said.

As they passed the main corridor, a voice drifted toward them. Seryna. Laughing. Light and false.

Varos pulled her gently aside into an alcove. “No one can know we were out there. Not even him.”

“Him?” she asked, though her stomach already knew the answer.

“Kael,” Varos said. “He’s loyal to the crown first, always. If you want to survive this court, you must learn what not to say.”

Ariana nodded, pulse pounding in her ears. “And what about you? Where does your loyalty lie?”

He studied her for a long moment, then reached into his coat and pulled out a small object—an old, weathered pendant etched with the same markings from the pool. He placed it in her palm and closed her fingers around it.

“My loyalty lies with what you might become,” he said. “Don’t waste it.”

Then he was gone, disappearing down the hallway with that quiet grace only someone deeply dangerous could manage.

Ariana stayed there a moment longer, fingers curled tightly around the pendant. It felt warm, almost alive. Like a heartbeat.

She made her way back to her room, taking side passages and servant routes until she was behind the safety of her door. She bolted it shut, then pressed her back against the cool wood and sank to the floor.

Everything had changed. Again.

Her mother wasn’t just a memory or a hole in her past. She’d been part of this—whatever “this” was. And Ariana, whether she wanted to or not, was something more than human.

The pendant pulsed once in her hand, and she didn’t drop it. She held on.

When she finally climbed into bed, she didn’t sleep. She stared at the ceiling until her eyes ached. Until her breath slowed. Until the sky outside began to pale into the soft blue of morning.

A gentle knock came at the door.

Not Varos.

Not Kael.

Not now.

She rose, careful, silent. Opened it just a crack.

It was a servant girl, young, with wide eyes and trembling hands.

“There’s been an incident,” she whispered. “The High Commander’s chambers. They want you downstairs.”

Ariana’s gut clenched. “Is it Kael?”

The girl only nodded, face pale as chalk.

Ariana dressed fast, barely remembering to slip the pendant over her neck. She tucked it under her tunic, close to her skin, then ran.

Down the stairs. Through the halls. Past startled servants and guards in disarray.

Until she reached the threshold of Kael’s rooms—and stopped cold.

The door hung ajar. Inside, chaos.

Shattered glass. Blood. And no sign of him.

No Kael.

Just the echo of a struggle, and the scent of burned magic in the air.