Page 8 of Her Fated Alpha Prince (Royal Dragons of Blackwater Islands #1)

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KAEL

The palace was a labyrinth of whispers and shadows after dusk.

The grand halls, draped in velvet darkness, held their breath beneath the weight of secrets too dangerous to voice aloud.

Kael moved through the corridors like a ghost, silent but always watching.

Every step measured, every glance calculated.

He had learned long ago that power was not in the thunderous proclamations but in the quiet moments no one else noticed.

Tonight, the air was thick—not with the usual perfumed courtesies, but with something darker, something brittle.

His fingers itched beneath the edge of his cloak, a restless tension curled in his chest. Ariana was on his mind—not the woman she presented herself to be, but the storm waiting to break loose beneath her calm surface.

He remembered how she looked last night—eyes wide with a storm she didn’t understand, breathless from a dream that clawed too close to truth. It was that something inside her, a spark no one but he seemed to feel. Dangerous, yes, but also fragile. A contradiction he could not reconcile.

A soft tap echoed behind a concealed door. Kael’s hand slid to the hilt of his dagger, fingers steady despite the surge of adrenaline. He waited. The door creaked open just enough for a sliver of shadow to slip through.

“Kael,” a voice whispered.

He recognized it immediately—Varos. The elder noble’s silver hair caught the moonlight as he stepped inside, eyes sharp, unreadable.

“We don’t have much time,” Varos said, voice low but urgent. “Seryna’s reach is longer than you think.”

Kael’s jaw clenched. Seryna. The name tasted like ash. The woman whose ambition had left scars on the kingdom, whose spies thrived in every corner. If she learned what Ariana might become—what she already was—it could mean ruin.

“What have you learned?” Kael asked, voice steady, but inside, the old dread gnawed at him.

Varos glanced around, then produced a folded parchment, sealed with a sigil Kael barely recognized.

“Messages intercepted. Observers in the palace. Not just your usual eyes and ears, but something... unnatural.”

Kael’s fingers brushed the paper, a flicker of cold crawling up his spine. This was no ordinary threat. The same dark undercurrents that churned in Ariana’s dreams were seeping into reality.

“Are you sure she knows?” Kael’s question was barely more than a breath.

Varos shook his head. “Not yet. But soon. And when she does…”

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken fears. Kael’s mind raced with possibilities—alliances to question, enemies to watch, and the one woman he was supposed to keep at arm’s length.

His thoughts fractured abruptly as footsteps approached—close, deliberate. Varos tensed beside him. Kael melted into the shadows, dagger ready, eyes narrowing.

The corridor emptied as quickly as it had filled, but the warning lingered. The palace was watching. And so were they.

Kael’s breath slowed. He folded the parchment carefully, slipping it into the inner pocket of his cloak.

Tonight, the game had changed. And for the first time in a long while, Kael felt the edges of control slipping.

He had to protect her. Even if it meant breaking every rule he’d ever sworn to uphold.

Kael didn’t return to his quarters. Instead, he headed for the west tower—the one no one used anymore, where the stones still bore the scorch marks of the fire that gutted the upper floors three winters ago. It wasn’t on any of the regular patrols. No servants came here. Which made it perfect.

He moved fast, but not so fast as to draw attention. Every instinct drilled into him over years of training warned that things were moving too quickly. Ariana wasn’t just awakening to something ancient—she was being watched. Manipulated. Positioned.

And he didn’t know by whom.

Inside the tower, the air was cool, dust motes spinning through the silver light. He knelt and pulled back the edge of a cracked stone tile, revealing a small iron box beneath. Only two people in the kingdom knew it existed—Kael, and the man who had taught him how to lie better than anyone else.

He opened it. Inside, letters. Old. Worn at the edges. Not all from Varos. Not all meant for Kael.

Some were written in a cipher he hadn’t broken yet. Others, he had—and what they’d revealed about the palace’s inner rot had kept him up more nights than he could count.

He added the new parchment to the stack, then took out a blank page and began to write, his hand moving quickly:

V— You were right. She’s changing faster than expected. The garden responded. She didn’t say how, but she was shaken. That’s twice in two nights. You said she wouldn’t be aware yet, but I think she’s beginning to feel it.

They’ll move soon. I can feel it in the guards. Too quiet.

Keep your eyes on the priestess. If anyone knows what Seryna’s planning, it’s her.

—K

He didn’t sign his name in full. Never had. The letters were too dangerous, too traceable. But Varos would know.

Kael slid the page into the secret box and locked it again before rising. Dust clung to his cloak, and the tower air smelled of old stone and older secrets.

He needed to see Ariana. Not because of the dream—though the way she’d looked this morning, pale and distracted, hadn’t escaped his notice—but because he needed to know if she remembered the note.

If she understood what was beginning to stir inside her.

If she trusted him enough yet to say anything.

But trust wasn’t something Ariana gave freely.

He moved through the halls toward her wing, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpets. Outside her door, he paused, listening.

No sound.

He knocked once.

No response.

His hand hovered over the latch, but he didn’t push it open. She deserved more than to be cornered like a spy. Still, his gut twisted. Something didn’t feel right.

He stepped back, leaned against the opposite wall, and waited.

Five minutes. Ten.

Then the door creaked open from the inside.

Ariana stood there barefoot, eyes dark with a thousand questions, and Kael knew, without a word spoken, that something inside her had changed.

She didn’t speak. Just stepped back and left the door open, turning her back on him like she trusted he’d follow. Or like she didn’t care if he did.

He closed the door behind him.

The room smelled of lavender and ash. Not smoke—ash. Old, burnt, buried. The flowers by the open archway had wilted at the tips, like they’d bloomed too fast and were paying for it now.

She was by the window, arms folded across her chest. Barefoot. Hair unbound. Her skin glowed faintly, even in the moonlight.

“You read the note,” he said softly.

She nodded. “Who’s watching me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“And the dreams? The garden responding to me? That’s not normal here, is it?”

Kael hesitated. “No.”

“And you’re not surprised.”

“I’ve seen things like it before. Traces. Echoes. But nothing this strong.”

She turned to face him, eyes burning with something half-furious, half-afraid. “I’m not supposed to be here, am I?”

He stepped forward, but slowly. “You are exactly where you’re supposed to be. That’s the problem.”

She let out a sharp breath, almost a laugh. “Great. Destiny. Just what I needed.”

“It’s not destiny,” he said. “It’s blood. Legacy. Something buried waking up.”

Her gaze snapped to him. “Whose blood?”

He didn’t answer.

She stepped closer. “Tell me.”

Kael stared at her, at the flicker of silver behind her pupils that hadn’t been there before. “There were once people who could shape the world with will alone. Before the noble lines. Before the Priesthood twisted the records.”

“You think I’m one of them.”

“I think they left something behind. And I think it found you.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Then why didn’t anyone warn me? Why pretend I was some noble girl from the outlands?”

“Because it’s easier to control a pawn than a queen.”

The words hung there. He hadn’t meant to say them. But they were true.

Her breath caught. “Who’s trying to control me?”

“Seryna. Maybe the council. Maybe both.”

“And you?” she asked, voice quieter. “Are you one of them?”

“No.” He meant it. Every inch of him meant it.

Her expression didn’t soften. “Then what are you?”

He looked at her for a long time. Then: “I’m the sword they lost control of.”

She didn’t blink.

“Stay close to Varos,” he added. “Don’t tell anyone what’s happening to you. Not yet.”

“You’re scared.”

“I’ve seen what they do to people like you.”

Ariana nodded slowly. Then she said the last thing he expected.

“You shouldn’t come back here.”

His heart kicked. “Why not?”

“Because the next time I look at you,” she whispered, “I might not be able to lie to myself about what I want.”

And then she closed the distance and kissed him—fierce and brief and furious —before stepping back, leaving him reeling.

“I’m not yours,” she said. “Not yet.”

Kael didn’t move as she closed the door.

He stood there in the dark, wondering if he’d just been given a warning—or a promise.