The Newbreeder

Chapter 29

Amaya

Three months of hell. Three months of training—learning to control my magic, finding new ways to defend against anything. After arriving in the capital and meeting my family, I finally started to settle into the castle.

I didn't want to just sit around doing nothing while everyone else had a purpose. As queen, Lynda was always with her advisors, who guided her on what the kingdom needed and what the other kingdoms demanded. Erica and Brandon were among her closest advisors, so they were rarely around. Isabel was in her last year of education, but she always seemed to have somewhere to be with someone else. Anna and Christian were the only real interaction I had, and it felt as if they were trying to make up for all the years we'd lost—which I didn't mind.

Anna specialized in healing magic, so much of our time together was spent on the best ways to heal. Every witch chooses a type of magic to specialize in, one that speaks to the core of who they are. I hadn't chosen one yet—none called to me—but I could manage simple spells. Learning alongside Anna, watching her, I noticed how much she resembled her children. When she spoke about something she was proud of, she looked just like Isabel. The way her face pinched when deep in thought reminded me of Brandon, and her laugh was identical to Erica's. I couldn't help but wonder—if I had grown up with them, what qualities would I have inherited?

Christian, as commander of the guard, oversaw all warrior training. After I merged with my wolf, it felt as though new powers and instincts had been unlocked inside me. Christian took it upon himself to train me personally. Within weeks, he had me working alongside the guard so I could prove myself instead of sitting idle.

I bent over, struggling to catch my breath after training ended. We had been practicing new maneuvers with partners, and mine just happened to be the strongest, fastest, and most experienced warrior in the guard.

"You'll catch up to me one day," Jordan said, patting my back. He was a little older than me, having joined the guard three years before. At twenty-two, he stood at 6'4" with a commanding presence. Everyone assumed that when Christian eventually stepped down, Jordan would take his place as commander. His caramel skin and dark brown hair complemented his amber eyes, which always glowed with a calm clarity—so unlike his wolf. His wolf was massive, with nearly black fur, and one glare from him was enough to freeze anyone in place.

I finally straightened, my lungs no longer feeling crushed, and walked with Jordan to clean up.

"Yeah, okay, commander," I teased, dipping my head to him. He laughed and shoved me playfully.

"Beat me in a challenge and I'll be calling you that soon," he joked. We walked to the end of the training hall, where the changing rooms and uniforms were kept. Just before the doors, I noticed Christian speaking intently with another man. They turned as soon as they saw us, as though we'd interrupted something private.

"Amaya, come here. Jordan, you're dismissed," Christian ordered, his tone clipped. Jordan gave me a sympathetic look before walking away. I approached and stood quietly until Christian spoke again.

"Amaya, this is Reverend McDonald," Christian said, introducing the man. I shook his hand. "He's here to give you your royal mark."

I stared in disbelief. The royal mark was a tattoo of the family crest, etched onto the back of every royal's neck once they came of age. I had resisted getting mine—I wanted to earn it first.

"Why now?" I asked.

"There have been sightings of Victor. With the royal mark, not only will you be able to prove your place in the royal family, but you'll also carry status wherever you go."

I frowned at the mention of going somewhere. "Where are we going?"

"The guard is being sent to patrol areas where he's been sighted," Christian explained. "You'll be joining one of those patrols—but only after you've been marked."

I nodded immediately and turned to the reverend. "How soon can we do it?"

The ceremony was arranged within three hours. It wasn't the grand affair it was supposed to be; there hadn't been time, and I didn't want strangers watching me be tattooed anyway. The church chosen for it resembled something from ancient Rome, with white brick walls and rich wooden accents. I walked through its doors, down a seemingly endless aisle lined with the royal advisors, the guard—including Jordan—and the royal family, who stood closest to the reverend at the steps.

I stopped at the base of the steps while the reverend recited ancient words. Then I knelt as he descended to me, continuing the incantation until the needle touched my skin. It was just like any other tattoo—the sting of a needle striking again and again into the flesh of my neck. I already knew what it would be: I had seen the crest many times before. A black shield edged in crimson, crowned with silver and obsidian points shaped like crescents. At its heart, a silver moon cradled a black wolf with its head thrown back in a howl. Below, a deep red banner unfurled, gilded with the words: Luna et Umbra Regnant—Moon and Shadow Reign. My mark would bear the wolf and the moons.

When it was done, I rose and turned to the crowd, who had risen to their feet.

"Princess Amaya of Eardwulf," the reverend declared, his voice echoing through the hall.

Everyone bowed their heads—even the royal family.

I was a princess. Not the kind of title I had once held in Jasper's pack, but a true princess of the royal family. Princess Amaya of Eardwulf.