The pre-dawn air was cold as Arianna made her way through the dimly lit corridors toward the lower kitchens. She'd barely slept, her mind too full of questions and her body too aware of every sound in the unfamiliar quarters.

The citadel was beginning to stir—servants moving quietly through hallways, guards changing shifts, the distant clang of the blacksmith's hammer already ringing from the forge. It was a city unto itself, this fortress of the Lycan King, and Arianna was now just another nameless face among hundreds.

Or so she hoped.

The kitchen was a vast space carved from stone, with enormous hearths already burning bright and hot. The air...