Chapter 1

I fell for a werewolf prince who was sent to my pack as a political hostage.

He was humble and devoted, whispering promises of a life where I was his one and only.

But behind my back, he viewed me―his tribal mate―as his greatest humiliation.

He spent years plotting, eventually climbing to the throne by stepping over the corpses of my entire pack.

He exiled me as a slave, tossing me into the frozen tundra of the North to be broken by the cold.

Heavy iron shackles wore my wrists down to the bone, and silver-laced whips turned my flesh into a bloody mess.

Even that wasn’t enough for his rage; he let his new lover torment me until I lost my mind.

Now that I’m a mindless shell, I’ve forgotten everything―including him.

Yet, with bloodshot eyes, he drags me back to his side, his voice thick with a twisted grief:

“Maybe it’s better this way. Forget it all, and we’ll start over.”

1.

Snow falls in heavy sheets, and my skin has turned a sickly shade of blue from the frost.

A few stray dogs are snarling over a piece of moldy bread in the dirt.

I scramble on all fours, desperately grabbing at the crumbs to shove them into my mouth.

“Stop pretending to be a lunatic,” a cold voice rings out.

A man stands before me in a tailored charcoal suit, looking down at me with pure disgust.

I don’t recognize him, but judging by the terrified, submissive looks from the people around us―

He must be the new King, Brooks, the man who was once a disgraced prince.

They say he conquered the seven territories, a legend in his own right. Why is he bothering a beggar like me?

I’ve forgotten that three years ago, he was my fiancé.

Now, with my memory wiped clean, I just stare at Brooks with a blank, hollow expression.

He loses his patience, convinced I’m just a talented actress.

“Take her back to the capital,” he snaps at his guards. “I want to see exactly how long she can keep up this little performance.”

Suddenly, a high-pitched, melodic voice cuts through the freezing air.

“Brooks, darling, the girl has been rotting in this wasteland for three years. Her mind is bound to be a bit fuzzy.”

A woman approaches, her smile as sharp as a blade. She is hauntingly beautiful.

But looking at her face makes a primal chill run down my spine.

There is a flickering, jealous fire in her eyes, a murderous intent she can’t quite hide.

I know that look.

I remember seeing those eyes while I was being beaten in a filthy outdoor kennel.

The guards used to call her the Queen.

She was the one who ordered them to use iron rods on my spine until I coughed up blood.

Back then, her laughter was the loudest thing in the tundra.

“This is what happens to any bitch who tries to take what’s mine,” she had hissed.

Now, she’s the picture of grace, acting like a different person entirely.

To show how “kind” she is, the Queen reaches out to brush a stray hair from my face.

The gesture triggers a visceral reflex. I shiver violently, scrambling backward while sobbing for mercy.

“Don’t hit me! Please, don’t hit me anymore!”

I am a pathetic, broken thing.

A strange flicker of emotion crosses Brooks’s face as he turns his gaze toward me.

“They hit you?” he asks, his voice tight.

I’m about to nod when the Queen lets out a soft, distracting laugh.

“The northern border guards are busy training, Brooks. They wouldn’t waste their time on a lowly slave.”

She sighs dramatically, looking at me with feigned pity.

“The poor girl is likely traumatized from the night the Silver Pack was wiped out. She’s probably still seeing your sword in her nightmares.”

At the mention of that bloody night, Brooks’s expression darkens.

“You’ve worked hard, Seraphina,” he tells the Queen softly. “Teach her the rules once we’re back at the palace.”

Then, he shoots me a look of pure ice.

“Stop faking this madness to get my attention. I’m not falling for it.”