POV: Soraya
The desert palace of Saren glowed like it was carved from molten gold. Every wall shimmered with shifting light as if flames lived beneath the sandstone. The scent of spiced roses drifted through the air—too sweet, too heavy. A trap disguised as beauty.
Zarek entered my chamber just as the sun dipped behind the dunes. He wore a robe of pale silk, soft and flowing, the kind worn by kings during sacred ceremonies. His dark hair was tied back, revealing the sharp angles of his face—handsome in a cold, sculpted way. A serpent carved from marble.
“Beloved,” he murmured, stepping closer.
I stiffened. “Don’t call me that.”
He smiled, slow and patient, as if I were a stubborn child refusing a treat. “I understand your fear. But in time, you will see that destiny favors us.”
My hands curled into fists. Destiny. The same word everyone seemed to use when they wanted to own me.
Zarek sat across from me without waiting for permission. He placed a small, triangular shard of glass on the table between us. It glowed faintly—moonlight trapped inside crystal.
“I brought you something,” he said softly. “A piece of your past.”
I didn’t reach for it.
He didn’t wait. The crystal flared.
A vision burst open in front of me.
Not an illusion—something sharper, brighter, painfully real.
My mother.
Lysara stood on a cliff under the full moon, her hair loose and wind-swept, eyes glowing the same silver-blue that sometimes flickered beneath my skin. She held a small pouch of herbs and whispered a prayer I couldn’t hear. Her hands trembled.
Then she placed the herbs inside a fire and knelt, clutching her chest.
“I hid her well,” Lysara whispered—voice breaking. “Zehrael’s last hope.”
My breath caught. She meant me.
She meant me.
The vision shifted.
Lysara sat at the edge of a river, tears falling silently. A blade lay beside her. She looked at the water, then at the unseen person she was speaking to.
“I had to choose,” she said. “I chose my child.”
The vision dissolved like sand in the wind.
I stared at the crystal, paralyzed. My heart felt carved open, my mother’s voice still echoing through me. My chest ached so badly I couldn’t draw a full breath.
Zarek watched me closely. Too closely.
“She wanted to protect you,” he said gently. “Even from your father. Even from the Ashra wolves who would one day come hunting for the Zehrael power.”
His words slid across the air like honey layered over steel.
“She loved you dearly. She hid you so you could live.”
His voice softened even further. “I can help you understand her. I can show you every memory she left behind.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re using her against me.”
Zarek blinked with a practiced look of wounded innocence. “I offer you truth. Nothing more.”
“Truth,” I repeated, bitter. “You kidnapped me.”
“I retrieved what was stolen,” he corrected. “Your place is here, Soraya. Your mother knew the Zehrael line was meant to rule beside Saren blood. She believed the desert would one day kneel to a union like ours.”
My stomach twisted.
“You’re lying.”
He leaned forward, expression perfectly calm. “Am I? You saw her. You heard her.”
“That was her voice,” I whispered. “But the rest—what you said—no. She wouldn’t want this. She wouldn’t want you using me like a seed bank for power.”
His jaw tightened for the briefest moment.
I saw it then—the crack in his calm.
The hunger beneath the charm.
The domination beneath the gentleness.
He recovered instantly. “You misunderstand, beloved. I want you as my queen. Zarek and Soraya—Saren and Zehrael united. No one would dare challenge us. The desert would bow.”
“No.”
The word fell from my mouth before I could stop it.
Zarek’s expression darkened, but only for a heartbeat. Then he smiled again—smooth, reassuring, false.
“You speak from fear. I will erase it.”
He reached out—
I recoiled so fast the chair scraped against the polished floor.
“Don’t touch me.”
His eyelids lowered, irritation flickering beneath the mask. “You think the Ashra wolves care for you? You think Raevan will come?” His voice hardened with an undercurrent of disdain. “He is promised to Azhara. Their marriage is unbreakable.”
Ice shot through my body.
I hated that the words hurt.
I hated that I cared.
Zarek saw it immediately—my stillness, my breath catching, the flicker of pain in my eyes. He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a velvet whisper.
“You will always be second to another in his fortress.”
He brushed a thumb along my cheekbone, and I jerked away, but he continued softly, “Here, you would be first.”
“He loves me,” I said before I could stop myself.
Zarek tilted his head. “And has he told you that? Has he claimed you? Has he promised you a future?”
Silence.
My throat burned.
He smiled again—slow and poisonous. “You deserve certainty, Soraya. Not stolen moments in dim hallways.”
I glared at him with new clarity. “You’re scared.”
Zarek froze.
I stood, stepping closer until only a breath separated us. “You’re scared because you know the truth. He’s coming for me.”
Zarek’s jaw tensed. “He won’t reach this palace alive.”
“He will,” I whispered. “He’s the dread wolf. And you’re terrified of him.”
Zarek’s eyes darkened to obsidian. For the first time, the mask slipped entirely—and I saw the danger beneath.
“Do not test me,” he breathed.
“I already am.”
I turned away. He grabbed my wrist—but gently, as if still trying to maintain the illusion of tenderness.
“You will stay here,” he murmured. “And in time, you will understand your purpose.”
I yanked my hand free. “My purpose is NOT to serve you.”
For a long moment, we stared at each other—sandstorm against earthquake.
Then Zarek smiled again, but it was a dead thing.
“We will revisit this conversation, Soraya.”
He stepped out of the chamber, leaving the crystal on the table.
The door clicked shut.
I sank to the floor, heart pounding, tears burning my eyes—but not from his manipulation.
From one truth: my mother left me pieces of herself in this world.
But Zarek? He would twist those pieces until I broke. Unless Raevan reached me first.