Page 3 of Her Fated Alpha Prince (Royal Dragons of Blackwater Islands #1)

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ARIANA

The palace didn’t feel real.

Ariana walked beneath archways carved from obsidian and bone-white stone, her bare feet padding softly along polished floors that reflected torchlight in ghostly flickers. The air smelled faintly of smoke and spice—like fire had a scent here, a memory it never let go of.

Someone had dressed her in a gown of pale silk and soft leather, laced in gold thread that shimmered when she moved.

It was stunning. It was also a little terrifying.

She didn’t remember anyone doing it. She’d woken up in a real bed, in a real room, and the dress had been laid out for her like an offering.

She didn’t feel like a guest. She felt like she’d been claimed.

Ariana paused at the end of the corridor, squinting into a cavernous room lit by hovering orbs of flame. A dozen people stood in a loose semi-circle around something—or someone—but the only face she could see clearly was his.

Kael.

He stood with his back straight, arms behind him, like a soldier or a king—or maybe both. He wore black leather and something gleamed across his shoulders, like dragon-scale armor forged in midnight. When his eyes flicked toward her, the rest of the world melted out of focus.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t move. But he didn’t look away either.

Her chest squeezed tight. She hated how her pulse reacted to him—like her body hadn’t gotten the memo that he was dangerous, that she was supposed to be angry, confused, disoriented. All she could think was: you pulled me out of the sea, and now I’m drowning in you instead.

It didn’t matter what he was. It didn’t matter what his true form was. He had saved her and her soul responded.

She took a step into the room.

Silence followed.

One of the men—a silver-haired advisor with sharp eyes and sun-browned skin—turned toward her. He looked her up and down, not with lust, but calculation. He wasn’t sizing up her body. He was weighing her worth.

Kael finally moved, striding toward her like heat given form. He didn’t touch her, but the way he looked at her—like she was already his—sent a tremor through her belly.

“This is Ariana,” the older man said, addressing the group. “Daughter of Alaric Lennox, former ambassador to the mainland, and my late friend.”

Ariana’s eyes widened. Daughter of who?

She opened her mouth to correct him, but Kael cut in before she could speak. “She was caught in a rift. Nearly lost. She’s under my protection now.”

The room murmured.

She glanced at Kael, confused, but his expression was unreadable—hard and controlled, like a mask pulled tight over a firestorm.

She swallowed the truth. For now.

Ariana felt the weight of a dozen unfamiliar eyes.

She stood still, spine straight, even as her stomach coiled tight. Every instinct screamed she didn’t belong here. And yet—no one questioned it. No one asked why her name didn’t match their records, or why she clearly had no idea who this “Alaric Lennox” was.

The older man—Elder Varos, she thought she’d heard someone call him—gave her a slight nod. “You’ll be given quarters in the east wing. Until further notice, your presence here is to remain discreet. For your safety.”

Discreet. That word curled like smoke in her mind. She didn’t like how easily it rolled off his tongue.

As if this happened often.

Kael hadn’t moved from her side. He radiated heat and authority, towering and still, like a weapon waiting to be unsheathed.

When he finally turned to her, his voice dropped low, too quiet for the others to hear. “You’ll be safe. Trust me.”

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Because despite the chaos in her brain, part of her did trust him. And that made no sense at all.

A soft voice cut through the room, honeyed and sharp.

“Well, she’s certainly… different.”

Ariana turned to see a woman step forward from the crowd. Tall, poised, and dressed in flowing crimson robes that clung like liquid fire. Her skin was flawless; her dark hair braided with fine silver cords that shimmered with every step.

But it was the eyes that gave her away—cold, calculating, and trained on Ariana like she was something under a microscope.

Lady Seryna.

The name echoed quietly as someone whispered it behind her.

Kael’s shoulders stiffened.

Seryna’s gaze drifted lazily down Ariana’s body and back up again. “Kael, darling. I wasn’t aware you’d taken to collecting strays.”

The smile on her lips was all sugar. The venom was in the tone.

Ariana said nothing. She didn’t flinch. She let the silence stretch, meeting Seryna’s stare with steady eyes.

Kael stepped between them.

“She’s under royal protection,” he said, voice like stone. “That should be enough.”

Seryna’s smile faltered for just a breath before recovering. “Of course,” she purred. “Anything for you, my prince.”

Then she turned and glided away, the room parting for her like waves for a queen.

Ariana exhaled slowly. Her jaw ached—she hadn’t realized she’d been clenching it.

“What was that?” she asked quietly.

Kael didn’t look at her. “Politics.”

Ariana studied his profile. Sharp. Stoic. Tense in a way that suggested the calm was a performance.

And yet, when he finally turned back to her, the storm in his eyes had softened. Just a little.

“She won’t touch you,” he said. “I won’t allow it.”

The words should’ve felt like a command.

They didn’t.

They felt like a vow.

The meeting dissolved in murmurs. Kael gave Elder Varos a single nod, then guided Ariana out with a hand on the small of her back. His touch was barely there, but it grounded her more than she wanted to admit.

They didn’t speak as they walked. The hallways twisted through the palace like veins, alive with light and whispers.

Every stone in the floor looked hand-laid, smooth and precise.

Vines crawled up the walls in patterns too elegant to be natural, as if the building itself was some kind of creature pretending to sleep.

Ariana tried not to gawk. Everything was beautiful. Strange. Unreal.

Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was always watching.

Kael stopped outside a curved wooden door in a quiet corridor lined with carved columns. “This is yours,” he said.

The suite was larger than her apartment back home.

A massive bed stood in the center beneath a draped canopy of soft white fabric.

A sunken tub glowed in one corner, steam already curling into the air.

A wall of open archways looked out over a garden bursting with deep green leaves and blood-red flowers.

It was breathtaking.

It was also a cage.

Kael stayed at the threshold, his hands behind his back like he didn’t trust himself to enter.

“You’ll have anything you need,” he said. “Food. Clothes. Protection.”

“I didn’t ask for protection.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you need it.”

She crossed the room slowly, her fingers grazing the cool marble edge of the bath. “Why me?” she asked without turning. “Why lie about who I am? Why bring me into all of this?”

Behind her, he exhaled hard. “Because if they knew what you really were—if they knew you were human—you’d already be dead.”

Her body went cold.

She turned to him. “But… you’re not human either, are you?”

His eyes flickered, like fire behind smoked glass. “No.”

She stepped closer, drawn in again without meaning to. “Then what are you?”

Kael didn’t answer. Not directly.

Instead, he moved one step into the room, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Ariana. But you do need to understand something.”

Her breath caught.

“I broke sacred law the moment I pulled you from the sea.”

Their eyes locked.

“I don’t regret it,” he said.

Then he turned and walked away, vanishing into the shadows of the corridor.

Ariana stood there, frozen in the echo of his words.

She didn’t know what to feel. Gratitude? Anger? Fear?

All she knew was that the air still held the heat of him.

And that when he’d looked at her just now—like he’d do it all over again—her heart hadn’t raced out of panic.

It had raced because part of her… wanted him to.