CHAPTER 1: THE CAPTURE
The mission was compromised the moment Isla Ravencroft slipped through the shadows of the Thornwood border outpost.
She'd known it instantly—that prickle of awareness that came from years of intelligence work, the sudden wrongness in the air that meant ambush. The guards had been waiting. Not patrolling randomly, but positioned deliberately, as if they'd known exactly when and where she'd appear.
Someone had betrayed her.
Isla melted back into the darkness, her Shadowstep ability letting her flow between patches of night like water. The stolen documents were tucked safely against her ribs, military plans that would give Silvermoon critical intelligence about Thornwood's troop movements. Three weeks of reconnaissance, three weeks of careful infiltration, and she'd finally obtained what her kingdom needed.
If she could just make it past the perimeter.
Steel rang against steel as she drew her blade, spinning to face the Thornwood soldiers who materialized from the treeline. Six of them, all massive males built for war, all armed and advancing with the coordinated precision that spoke of elite training.
"The spy," one growled, his eyes flashing gold in the moonlight. Lycan, like her. Like all of them."Surrender and we'll make your death quick."
Isla's laugh was sharp as broken glass."I'm Silvermoon. We don't surrender."
She moved before he could respond, Shadowstepping behind the nearest soldier and driving her blade between the gaps in his armor. He went down with a choked gasp, and then she was dancing through them, all speed and lethal grace. Her instructors had called her the most dangerous scout in the kingdom—not because she was the strongest, but because she was the fastest, the smartest, the one who turned disadvantages into weapons.
Being small meant being underestimated. Being female meant they expected weakness.
They learned better as she dropped two more, her blade finding throats and arteries with surgical precision.
But there were too many, and she was tired from weeks in enemy territory, and when the reinforcements arrived—another dozen soldiers flooding from the outpost—Isla knew she was finished.
She fought anyway. Because she was the third princess of Silvermoon, and Ravencroft blood didn't yield. Because she was a warrior who'd demanded training when her father had wanted her decorative and diplomatic. Because even if she died here, she'd make them remember her name.
A blade caught her shoulder, spinning her sideways. Another slammed into her ribs, driving air from her lungs. Her leg gave out and she went down hard, blood hot against her skin, the taste of copper in her mouth.
They swarmed her, overwhelming through sheer numbers, and Isla felt the cold bite of iron shackles closing around her wrists.
Silver. Goddess-damned silver that burned against lycan skin and suppressed the shift.
"Caught herself a spy," someone said, and there was satisfaction in his voice."King Caspian will want to interrogate this one personally before the execution."
Execution. Of course. She was deep in enemy territory, caught stealing military intelligence. There was only one sentence for that.
Isla sagged in the chains, letting them think her broken, and tried not to feel the creeping certainty that she'd never see Silvermoon again.
The journey to Thornwood's capital took three days.
Three days of being dragged through hostile territory, bound and bleeding, treated like the war prize she supposed she was. The soldiers didn't know her identity—she'd been dressed as a common scout, her royal tattoo hidden beneath leather bracers, nothing marking her as Princess Isla Ravencroft.
Just another Silvermoon spy caught where she didn't belong.
They were almost decent about it, in a grim sort of way. Gave her water when she asked. Didn't touch her beyond what was necessary to
