Darius pov
I stayed at the edge of the clearing, watching Beatrice process what the Wynter brothers were telling her. Every instinct I had screamed at me to go to her, to comfort her, to make sure she was okay.
But this wasn't my moment. This was hers.
"You need to sit down," Corin said. The second-oldest brother moved toward Beatrice with the careful approach of a healer. "You're in shock."
Beatrice let him guide her to a fallen log. She was shaking, her grey eyes wide and unfocused. The locket dangled from her fingers.
"This doesn't make sense," she said. Her voice was so small, so lost. "I'm nobody. I'm just a servant."
"You were never just a servant." Theron crouched in front of her. The Lord Alpha of Wynterhold looked like he wanted to reach out and touch her but wasn't sure if he was allowed to. "You're our blood. Our family."
Silas, the third brother, pulled out a small leather folder from a pack one of my warriors had brought. He flipped it open and showed Beatrice a series of documents. "Birth records. Medical files from when you were born. Reports from the investigation into your kidnapping."
"Kidnapping?" Beatrice looked up at him.
"Twenty years ago, rogues attacked the convoy that was bringing you and Mother back from a Council meeting," Kaelen explained. The youngest brother had the same white-blond hair as Beatrice, and his blue eyes were hard with old anger. "They killed the guards and took you. We've been searching ever since."
I watched Beatrice's face as understanding slowly dawned. She'd spent her whole life believing she was abandoned, unloved, worthless. Now four of the most powerful wolves in the kingdom were telling her she'd been stolen from a family that never stopped looking for her.
"The Silvermist Alpha and Luna," Beatrice said slowly. "They told me my parents were dead. That I was an orphan."
"They lied." Theron's voice was cold with fury. "They knew who you were. They had to have known."
Rowan paced in my head, desperate to go to our mate. She's hurting. We need to comfort her.
We can't, I told him. Look at them. Look at who her brothers are.
The Wynter family wasn't just powerful. They were royalty. Their bloodline went back to the first wolves blessed by the Moon Goddess. They controlled the largest territory, had seats on every major Council, and commanded respect from every pack in the kingdom.
And I was a beta. Second-in-command of a mid-sized pack with no particular influence or wealth. What did I have to offer a Wynter daughter?
"Darius," one of my warriors said quietly. "Should we pursue the rogues?"
I shook my head. "Let them run. We have what we came for." I'd been leading a routine patrol near the Silvermist border when Rowan had gone absolutely wild, dragging me toward Beatrice's scent. We'd arrived just in time to save her from those rogues.
Just in time to discover that my mate was so far above me in status that pursuing her would be laughable.
"Who are you?" Theron stood and turned to face me. His alpha power washed over the clearing, making every wolf present drop their eyes in automatic submission.
I met his gaze for just a second before lowering mine. "Darius Veylor, my lord. Beta of Ashthorn Pack. We were on patrol and heard the conflict."
"You saved my sister's life." Theron's voice was impossible to read. "Ashthorn is three territories away. What are you doing on Silvermist's border?"
It was a fair question. We had no business being this far from home. But I couldn't exactly explain that my wolf had scented his fated mate and dragged me across two territories to find her.
"Just being thorough, my lord," I said. "Rogue activity has increased recently."
Corin was examining Beatrice now, his hands glowing with faint healing light as he checked her for injuries. "She's malnourished," he said, anger creeping into his usually gentle voice. "Severely. These scars on her hands are from manual labor. And this..." He pushed up her sleeve to reveal an old burn mark. "This was intentional."
Silas made a low sound in his throat. "They tortured her."
"Not tortured," Beatrice said quietly. "Just... it was an accident. I was too slow with the dinner service, and someone bumped into me while I was carrying hot soup."
"Someone bumped into you," Kaelen repeated. His voice was soft, but I heard the lethal promise underneath it. "And you were the one who got burned."
Beatrice looked confused by their anger. She didn't understand yet that what Silvermist had done to her was wrong. She'd been trained her whole life to believe she deserved it.
My hands clenched into fists. I wanted to go back to Silvermist and tear that pack apart with my bare hands. But that wasn't my right. That decision belonged to her brothers.
"We need to get her home," Theron said. "Away from this place."
"I can't just leave," Beatrice said. She stood up, swaying slightly. "I have duties. Work to finish. And Alpha Riven said I'm supposed to marry"
"You're not marrying anyone Riven chose for you," Theron cut her off. His voice was absolutely final. "You're coming home with us. Tonight."
"But I don't know you." Beatrice's voice cracked. "You're strangers. How do I know this isn't some kind of trick?"
Corin pulled something from his pocket. A small stuffed wolf, worn and faded with age. "You used to sleep with this every night. You called him Howler. When you were taken, Mother put it in your nursery. She refused to let anyone touch it because she said you'd want it when you came home."
Beatrice stared at the toy. Slowly, like she was moving through water, she reached out and took it. She held it to her nose and breathed in.
Then she started crying.
Corin pulled her into his arms, and she collapsed against his chest. Her sobs were quiet, like she'd learned to cry without making noise. The sound of it made something crack in my chest.
Rowan howled in my mind. Our mate is in pain. We have to help her.
Her brothers will help her, I told him. They're her family. They'll give her everything she needs.
But we're her mate, Rowan insisted. She needs us too.
I watched Theron's expression as he looked at his crying sister. The Lord Alpha's face was set in stone, but his eyes betrayed him. He was a man who'd lost something precious and had just gotten it back. He would protect Beatrice with everything he had.
Which meant he wouldn't accept just anyone as her mate.
"My lord," I said quietly. "My patrol and I should head back to Ashthorn. Unless you need our assistance?"
Theron looked at me for a long moment. There was something calculating in his gaze, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. "You have my gratitude, Beta Veylor. I won't forget this debt."
It was a dismissal. A polite one, but still a clear message that I was no longer needed.
I bowed slightly and signaled my warriors. We melted back into the forest, leaving the Wynters to their reunion.
But I couldn't resist one last look back.
Beatrice had stopped crying. She was standing between her four brothers, all of them touching her somehow-a hand on her shoulder, fingers on her arm, like they needed physical confirmation that she was real. She looked small and fragile surrounded by all that power.
Then she turned and looked directly at me.
Our eyes met across the clearing. For just a second, I saw recognition there. Not just of my face, but of what we were to each other. The mate bond hummed between us, golden and perfect and completely impossible.
Then Kaelen said something that made her turn away, and the moment was broken.
I forced myself to keep walking.
"Sir?" One of my warriors fell into step beside me. "Was that really Beatrice Wynter? The lost princess?"
"Yes," I said.
"The Moon Goddess has a sense of humor." The warrior shook his head. "After all these years, she turns up as a servant in a minor pack."
"She didn't turn up," I said quietly. "She was hidden. On purpose."
The implications of that were staggering. Someone had kidnapped a royal child and placed her in Silvermist Pack, where she'd been deliberately kept ignorant of her identity. That wasn't random. That was a plan.
Which meant whoever did it might still be out there.
And they wouldn't be happy that Beatrice had been found.
