Astra slipped the sealed letter into her sleeve before the courier's body hit the floor. The man had died quietly, his wine doing what her blade would have made obvious. Now his message belonged to her, and with it, perhaps the key to Damion's throne. She stepped over the body and locked the door behind her. The golden envelope pressed against her wrist as she moved through the dim corridor toward her chambers. The black wax seal bore a crest she didn't recognize — foreign, intricate, expensive. Someone with power had sent this to her brother. Someone who expected their words to reach the king's eyes alone. Astra broke the seal with her thumb and unfolded the parchment inside. The words were brief, written in a careful hand: "The fire that killed your uncle can be yours to command. We have found the texts your father burned." Her breath caught. Fire magic. Banned for twenty years. Offered to Damion like a crown jewel. If he accepted, the court would turn on him. If he refused, whoever sent this would know he was weak. Either way, Astra now held the match that could burn his reign to ash. She read the letter again, then slid it back into her sleeve. Two years of watching and waiting, and the weapon she needed had simply fallen into her hands. But using it meant destroying the brother she still loved, and that truth settled in her chest like a stone. She walked to her father's portrait hanging opposite her bed. The old king's painted eyes seemed to follow her as she moved. He had banned fire magic to protect his throne from the same chaos that killed his brother. Now someone wanted to hand that chaos to his son. Astra pressed her palm against the ornate gold frame. The message was meant to be delivered beneath this portrait, left on the table where Damion took his private correspondence each morning. Instead, she had intercepted the courier three corridors away. Her brother would never know the offer existed. Unless she chose to tell him. Unless she chose to watch him fall. The letter felt warm against her skin. Her advantage had always been secrecy. Now it was also choice. Astra crossed to the hidden panel behind her wardrobe and pressed until it clicked open. Inside sat the golden chest where she kept her maps of the court, her lists of allies and enemies, her careful accounting of Damion's weaknesses. She placed the letter on top of everything else. The forbidden magic offer would stay hidden until she decided how to use it. She could forge a response accepting the offer and place it where the court would find it. She could whisper rumors that Damion sought the banned arts. She could destroy the letter and pretend it never existed. But she couldn't undo the knowing. The weapon was hers now, and her brother's fate rested in her hands.

Astra had just closed the hidden panel when boots sounded in the corridor. More than one pair. Moving with purpose. She smoothed her red robes and set her diadem straight in the mirror. The courier's body had been found. She had known it would be. She had not expected the search to reach her wing so soon. A fist struck her door three times. Not a servant's knock. She opened it herself. Damion filled the doorway, sword at his hip, green eyes fixed on her face. Two guards stood behind him. Her older brother did not step inside. He studied her the way he studied a map before a march. "A man is dead in the west corridor," he said. "Poisoned. He was carrying something for me." "I heard the noise," Astra said. "I assumed a servant had fallen." "You assumed wrong." He did not move. "Father is coming to question you himself." Her stomach tightened. "Me." "Your rooms are nearest the body. He wants answers. I will not stand between you." He held her eyes. "If you have something to say to me, say it now." She thought of the letter behind the wardrobe. The chest. The maps. One word and she could hand him the offer, wound him with it, watch him choose. One word and she could beg his protection. She did neither. "I have nothing to say." Damion's jaw shifted. "Then good luck." He turned and walked away, leaving the guards at her door. Her father arrived within the hour. Vladimir wore his black robes and the golden crown with its red stones. He did not sit. He did not greet her. He walked once around her chamber and stopped at the wardrobe. "A courier died at my son's door," he said. "You were the last to pass that corridor." "I passed many corridors, Father." "Open the wardrobe." Her pulse struck her throat. She stepped between him and the wood. "My robes are inside. Nothing else." He looked at her for a long moment. His green eyes held no anger. They held nothing at all. "Prove it." She opened the wardrobe. She did not touch the panel behind the hanging robes. She pushed the fabric aside and let him see the back wall. He ran one gloved hand along the wood. His fingers passed within an inch of the seam. They did not find it. He stepped back. "If I learn you lied, I will not treat you as my daughter." "I understand." He left without another word. The guards followed. Astra locked the door and stood against it until her hands stopped shaking. Damion had given her to their father. He suspected her. He had chosen to let her stand alone. The letter was safe. She was not. Her secrecy had held, but her brother's love had thinned to a blade's edge, and now she knew which way it would cut.

Astra waited until the palace slept. The guards at her door changed at the second bell, and the new pair drank the wine she had left them. She stepped past their slumped shoulders and moved through the servants' passage. Her red robes were folded in a satchel. She wore a stablehand's brown wool instead. The diadem stayed hidden in her sleeve. She had one night to reach Luna before her father named her a traitor by morning. The black stone guard station stood at the outer wall. Torches burned in its narrow windows. She could not pass it dressed as herself, and she could not pass it dressed as a servant without a token. She crouched behind the woodpile and watched the sentries change. Two men. One yawning. The other counting coins from his palm to his pocket. She had mapped this post for two years. She knew the counting one. He owed a wine merchant more than he earned in a season. She stepped into the torchlight and showed him a gold coin between two fingers. His hand closed on it before his mouth opened. "Kitchen errand," she said. "South gate. I come back before dawn." He looked at her face. He knew it. His jaw tightened. "Princess." "A second coin if you forget the first." He took the second coin. He opened the small door beside the gate and turned his back. She ran. The eastern ridge lay an hour on foot. She kept to the tree line. Luna had told her once where the pack's scouts watched the border. Astra reached the flat stone by the second stream and waited. Her breath fogged. Her hands would not stop shaking. A branch snapped behind her. She turned. Luna stepped out of the dark. Grey ears flat. Yellow eyes bright. She wore her deer hide tunic and her boots were wet to the ankle. She had been running too. "You're bleeding," Luna said. Astra looked at her palm. She had cut it on the wall and not noticed. "It's nothing." "You came alone." Luna's voice did not rise. "That means it's bad." "Damion gave me to my father. My father searched my rooms. He'll come back." Astra swallowed. "I need somewhere the guard cannot reach. I need you." Luna closed the distance and took her wrist. Her grip was warm. "Then you have me," Luna said. "My father won't like it. I don't care." "Your pack—" "Will follow the alpha or follow me. We'll see which." Luna pulled her toward the trees. "Move. The scouts change at third bell." Astra went. Behind her, the palace lights were small and yellow through the branches. Ahead was a wolf's daughter and a fight she had not planned for. The guard at the gate had her name and two gold coins. By sunrise he would sell both. She had bought hours, not days. But she had Luna. That was more than she had walked out with.

By dawn they reached a low cave mouth. A shallow stream ran across its front. Luna crouched and drank from the water. Astra sank against the cold stone. Her legs ached from the night's walk. She still wore the stablehand's brown wool. The diadem pressed hard in her sleeve. "Rest here," Luna said. "The pack won't track us to water this fast." But Luna's ears turned. She went still. Then Astra heard it too. Voices, down the slope. Hooves on wet ground. A patrol. Luna pulled her deeper into the cave. They pressed flat against the stone. Through the low opening Astra watched two riders stop at the stream. Border men. One held a rolled paper. He read it aloud to the other. "Astra Forthin. Traitor to the crown. Long brown hair. Blue eyes. A silver crown. Take her alive." Astra's breath caught. Her father's words had reached even here. If they found her, they would drag her back in chains. Everything she had built would end before it began. The first rider swung down. He walked toward the cave. His boots splashed in the stream. Luna's hand closed on Astra's wrist. "Stay," she breathed. "I'll lead them off." "No." Astra held her fast. A plan formed cold and quick. "Give me your cloak." Luna wore a rugged brown hide cloak over her tunic. She unclasped it without asking why. Astra pulled it around her shoulders. She raised the hood. Her brown hair vanished. She tugged the diadem from her sleeve and buried it deep in the mud at her feet. The rider reached the cave mouth. He peered into the dark. Astra stepped forward before he could look close. She hunched her shoulders and roughened her voice. "Trapper's shelter, sir. My man and me. We seen no woman." The hood hid her eyes. The cloak hid her robes. She looked like nothing worth the crown's gold. The rider frowned. "You seen anyone pass? A woman, fine-dressed?" "No one, sir. Only wolves in the night." Behind her, Luna let a low growl rise from her throat. It rolled through the cave like a real beast. The rider stepped back. His hand went to his horse. "Wolf country," he muttered. He mounted and turned. "Nothing here." The two riders rode up the slope. The hoofbeats faded. The stream ran quiet again. Astra let out her breath. Her hands shook. She pulled the hood back and dug the diadem from the mud. It was scratched now, dull with dirt. "They'll ride the whole border," Luna said. "Every post has your face." "Then I stop looking like my face." Astra clutched the muddy crown. She could not wear it. Not while she lived as a traitor with a price on her head. Luna took the diadem from her hand and slid it into her pack. "Keep it hidden. You'll wear it when it means something." Astra nodded. She was hunted now, and no longer a princess anyone would know. To take the throne, she would first have to disappear.