In the kingdom of Veydrien, the moon does more than light the night — it rules it.

Alphas lead the hunt and the war. Betas keep the peace. Omegas… are cherished, guarded, and caged.

The royal omega line is the pride of the realm, its blood said to carry the blessing of the Moon Goddess herself. And yet, for Prince Lysander, that blessing has always felt like a curse.

Born the last royal omega, Lysander was never meant for the front lines. His fate was decided long before he could claim his first victory — to live draped in silks, spoken for in court alliances, his body and choices a possession of the crown. But Lysander remembers a different life…

Before his first heat revealed his nature, he ran the palace grounds with Callen — his best friend, a brash young alpha with a wolf as wild as his laugh. They trained together, dreamed of joining the Legion together, swore they’d fight side by side.

Then the truth of Lysander’s second gender ended all of it. Omegas didn’t belong in the Legion. Callen was sent to the front; Lysander was locked behind gilded gates.

Now Callen fights under Commander Kael’s banner.

And Lysander’s younger brother, Prince Rowan — a bright, ambitious beta with eyes always measuring the room — has developed an interest in Callen that is more than political. Rowan has never hidden his desire to claim what Lysander once had.

War brews on the borders, but in the royal family, a quieter chaos churns: the resentment of one brother trapped, the ambition of another seeking to take his place, and a bond between an omega prince and his alpha friend left to rot in the shadows.

Lysander refuses to remain caged.

Disguising himself as an alpha soldier, he slips into the king’s army — trading royal robes for battle leathers, masking his scent with bitter suppressants, hiding the truth that would see him dragged home in chains.

But the front lines are not just the clash of steel and fang. They are ruled by Commander Kael — a fierce, unyielding alpha whose gaze cuts through every lie. Under his watch, Lysander’s double life becomes a dangerous game, each drill and skirmish tightening the snare between them.

The king wants his son broken and returned in three moons’ time. The commander wants answers. Rowan wants Callen. And Callen… may not have forgotten the boy who once swore they’d stand together beneath the silver moon.

But the moon has a way of uncovering what the night tries to hide.

King Aldric's POV

The throne room doors exploded open as my son stormed in, his bootsteps echoing like war drums. Even through the bitter herbs masking his scent, the defiance rolling off Lysander made my wolf bristle.

"You will not go to the front!" My voice shook the ancient tapestries. Moonlight streamed through stained glass, painting crimson streaks across his face as he bared his teeth - no fangs, no claim, yet more insolent than any alpha.

Lysander threw his ceremonial dagger at my feet. The steel clattered against marble, inlaid rubies glinting like drops of blood. "I'd rather die as a soldier than live as your ornament."

Father's guards dragged me to my chambers, their grip too tight on my arms. The door's iron lock engaged with a final click that vibrated through my bones. Bastards didn't even let me keep my boots.

I waited until the second moonrise. The castle's shadow stretched across the training yard below my window - where real wolves prepared for war while I polished silverware. My fingers traced the hidden compartment beneath the floorboard, where I'd hoarded everything I'd need: soldier's uniform, scent suppressants, forged enlistment papers.

The ivy outside my window tore at my bare feet as I climbed down. Freedom smelled like pine resin and fresh blood from where the thorns bit into my palms.

King Aldric's POV

The messenger faltered when I crushed the empty pheromone vial in my fist. Bergamot and iron - Lysander's scent, filtered through cheap suppressants. The fool thought he could disappear into the Legion?

"Shall we retrieve the prince, Your Grace?" Captain Varek asked.

I stared at the cracked vial. "No. Let Commander Kael discover what stalks his ranks... and break him properly." My wolf howled in approval. Omegas didn't survive the infantry. Either my son would crawl back, or the world would teach him truths I never could.

The recruitment tent reeked of sweat and wolfsbane. I kept my shoulders square like the alphas did, my borrowed scent clinging to me like armor. The quartermaster squinted at my papers.

"Lys of the Southwood Company?" He sniffed the air suspiciously. I forced myself not to flinch when he grabbed my wrist to check for the alpha marking.

"They burned off in a village fire," I lied smoothly, showing the old scar tissue from my experiments with silver nitrate.

Behind us, someone chuckled - a deep, dangerous sound that raised the hairs on my neck. I turned to see a mountain of a man leaning against a tent pole, arms crossed over his leather cuirass. Commander Kael's golden eyes gleamed in the torchlight as they traced my throat, where no mating mark would ever be.

"We'll test that story at the Blood Moon drills, alpha," he said, making the title sound like a challenge. My stomach dropped, but I held his gaze. This was my chance - and I'd rather be torn apart by his pack than returned to my gilded cage.

The training yard was a living beast. Torches spat fire into the night, throwing molten shadows over walls darkened by centuries of blood and sweat. Wolves in human form moved with the restless prowl of predators itching for the hunt. Metal rang against metal, punctuated by the guttural bark of sergeants driving their soldiers harder.

I kept my shoulders square, my chin high, and my lungs shallow — careful not to breathe too deeply. The suppressant still clung to me like a second skin, but I could feel it thinning under the heat of my racing pulse. If anyone caught the faintest whiff of what I truly was, I’d be dead before the moon reached its zenith.

“Southwood,” a voice growled behind me.

I turned.

Commander Kael was taller than I remembered from the tent — or maybe it was the way the torchlight caught the predator in his stance. Golden eyes locked on mine like the grip of a steel trap. His presence pressed against my senses, his alpha energy brushing my skin until my wolf shrank back, tail tucked, no matter how I fought to keep my posture unbroken.

“You’re with me tonight,” Kael said. Not an invitation. An order.

The other recruits exchanged glances that weren’t entirely friendly. Being singled out by the commander was rarely a reward. Still, I fell in line at his side, my boots striking the packed dirt in perfect unison with his.

We stopped before a rack of practice weapons. Kael’s gaze swept the choices — swords, axes, spears — before his hand closed around a brutal, double‑edged blade that seemed far too heavy for casual training. He tossed it to me.

“Show me.”

I caught the weapon, my arms jolting under its weight. I prayed he hadn’t noticed.

Kael stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. “Strike me.”

My gut tightened. This wasn’t a normal drill — not with the way his eyes narrowed, drinking in every twitch of my body. He wasn’t testing my swordplay. He was hunting the truth.

I lunged. Steel sang through the air — only to crash against his parry with a force that rattled my bones. He flowed around my strike like water, like wind, like something untouchable.

Again.

Our blades clashed. My palms stung. Kael moved with the ease of a predator toying with prey. He didn’t just block my attacks — he redirected them, twisting my balance until my stance faltered.

Again.

By the fourth exchange, my breathing was loud in my ears. Sweat trickled down my temple, my hair sticking to my neck. My wolf yowled inside me, furious at being pushed so far without yielding to its nature.

Kael stepped in close — too close. His sword’s edge hovered just above my throat, but his gaze had dropped lower, to the hollow at the base of my neck where my pulse hammered against skin.

“Your stance is alpha,” he murmured. “Your fight… isn’t.”

The words slid under my armor like a blade, clean and precise.

I forced a smirk I didn’t feel. “You always flirt with your recruits, Commander?”

His eyes sharpened, unreadable, and for one dangerous moment, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. But he didn’t step back. He leaned in.

“Flirting would be kinder,” Kael said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “What I’m doing… is stripping you down.”

I swallowed hard. His scent — sharp cedar and something darker — curled into my lungs before I could stop it. My body betrayed me with the smallest hitch in my breath. His gaze caught it. He knew.

Kael stepped away abruptly. “Run the gauntlet.”

The “gauntlet” was infamous even in whispered palace gossip. A circuit of brutal obstacles meant to shred the unworthy: scaling a wall slicked with oil, sprinting under swinging logs, weaving through a forest of pikes while wolves snapped from the shadows.

The first wall bit into my hands, oil burning in the cuts from the ivy thorns I’d taken on my escape. I climbed anyway, shoving pain aside. Every stumble, every slip, I could feel Kael’s eyes on my back, heavy as chains.

I made it to the end with my lungs on fire, my legs trembling, and my scent suppressants all but burned off by the heat flooding my skin. My wolf was clawing at the inside of my ribs now, desperate to breathe free.

When I doubled over, hands braced on my knees, Kael’s shadow fell over me. He crouched so we were eye‑level, golden gaze drilling into mine.

“You want to survive here?” he asked.

“Yes,” I rasped.

“You want to be a soldier?”

“Yes.”

His hand shot out, gripping my jaw, thumb pressing into the corner of my mouth as if testing the strength of my bite. His touch was firm but not cruel. Still, my wolf stilled entirely under the dominance in it.

“Then fight like something with teeth,” Kael said softly. “Or the front lines will eat you alive.”

I held his gaze, my pulse pounding so hard I thought he might feel it through his fingertips. I didn’t flinch.

His mouth curved, faint but dangerous. “Good.”

He released me, straightened, and turned away. “Blood Moon drills at dawn. Don’t be late, Southwood.”

As I watched him walk away, the truth settled in my gut like a stone: Kael didn’t believe my lie — not for a second.

But for reasons I couldn’t yet name… he hadn’t exposed me.

Not yet.