Chapter 3 : Rescue and Alliance

Benjamin got sick two days later.

It started with a punishment—ten lashes for dropping a silver tray. The guard used a whip tipped with silver shavings. For werewolves, silver wounds fester. They don''t heal right.

By nightfall, Benjamin was burning up. Sweating, shaking, muttering in his sleep. The wound on his back oozed yellow pus.

The other slaves avoided him. Sick slaves were trouble. They drew attention. Sometimes they were taken away and never came back.

Aiden watched from his pallet. Benjamin''s breathing was ragged. Too fast. Too shallow.

He remembered his mother tending wounds. Her hands gentle, her voice calm. "Silver poisoning," she''d say. "Needs moonwort and honey. And someone who cares enough to help."

No one here cared.

Aiden lay back, closed his eyes. Not my problem. Stay out of it. Survive.

But Benjamin''s breathing got worse. A wet, choking sound.

Aiden sat up. Looked around. The other slaves pretended to sleep. No one moved.

Damn it.

He stood, walked to Benjamin''s pallet. Knelt. Touched his forehead. Burning hot.

"Benjamin."

No response.

"Benjamin, can you hear me?"

Benjamin''s eyes fluttered open. Glassy, unfocused. "Aiden?"

"You need medicine."

"Medicine?" Benjamin laughed, a weak, broken sound. "Slaves don''t get medicine."

"I''ll get some."

"Don''t." Benjamin''s hand shot out, grabbed Aiden''s wrist. Weak grip, but desperate. "They''ll catch you. They''ll punish you."

"They''ll kill you if you don''t get help."

Benjamin''s eyes focused for a second. Clear, sharp. "Why? Why risk it for me?"

Aiden didn''t have an answer. Or maybe he did. Because no one else would. Because his mother would have. Because sometimes, being human—being wolf—meant helping when it was stupid to help.

"I''ll be back," he said.

He slipped out of the slaves'' quarters. The corridors were dark, lit by guttering torches. Shadows everywhere. Hiding places. Watching eyes.

The estate''s infirmary was in the east wing. For guards, for important servants. Not for slaves. The door would be locked. The windows barred.

But Aiden knew another way. He''d been paying attention during his weeks here. Noticing things. Remembering.

There was a storage room near the kitchens. Where they kept herbs, spices, basic medicines. Less guarded. Easier to get into.

He moved like a shadow. Fast, silent, keeping to the darkest parts of the corridors. His heart hammered, but his hands were steady. Years of hiding had taught him this: how to move unseen. How to be a ghost.

The storage room door was locked, but the lock was old, rusted. Aiden had stolen a hairpin from one of the maids weeks ago. He''d kept it hidden, just in case.

Just in case turned out to be now.

He worked the lock. Click. Click. Silence. Click.

The lock gave. The door opened a crack.

Aiden slipped inside, closed the door behind him. The room was small, shelves crammed with jars, bottles, bundles of dried herbs. Moonlight through a high window provided just enough light to see.

Moonwort. He needed moonwort. And honey. And clean cloth.

He found the moonwort in a clay jar labeled with a crescent moon. The honey in a sticky pot. Clean cloths in a basket.

He took what he needed. Not too much. Just enough.

Then he saw it. On a high shelf, half-hidden behind other jars. A small bottle with a silver stopper. The label, in the old script: "Silverbane."

His mother had mentioned silverbane once. A rare herb that could cure even the worst silver poisoning. Expensive. Dangerous. Kept for nobles, not slaves.

He hesitated. Then he took it. Just in case.

Back in the corridor, he froze. Footsteps. Coming his way.

He pressed himself into a shadowed alcove. Held his breath.

Two guards walked past, talking in low voices.

"...found another one in the west wing. Trying to steal food."

"Idiot. What did they do to him?"

"Twenty lashes. Silver-tipped. He won''t last the night."

They passed. Aiden waited until their footsteps faded, then moved.

Back in the slaves'' quarters, Benjamin was worse. His skin was grey, his lips blue. The wound smelled foul.

Aiden worked fast. Cleaned the wound with water and honey. Applied moonwort paste. Wrapped it with clean cloth.

Then he uncorked the silverbane bottle. Three drops on Benjamin''s tongue. No more.

"Swallow," he whispered.

Benjamin swallowed. Coughed. Then his breathing eased. The grey tinge faded from his skin.

Aiden sat back, watching. Waiting.

Minutes passed. Benjamin''s breathing steadied. His fever broke. Sweat soaked his clothes, but it was clean sweat, not sick sweat.

He opened his eyes. Clear this time. "Aiden."

"Don''t talk. Rest."

"You saved me."

"Maybe."

"Why?"

Aiden shrugged. "You''re useful alive."

Benjamin smiled weakly. "Liar. You''re a terrible liar."

"Go to sleep."

Benjamin closed his eyes. But his hand found Aiden''s. Squeezed. "Thank you."

Aiden didn''t answer. Just sat there, holding Benjamin''s hand, watching him sleep.

Dawn came. Benjamin was better. Not healed, but healing.

The other slaves noticed. They looked at Aiden differently now. Not with fear. With something else. Respect? Curiosity?

Aiden ignored them. Went about his duties. Library again.

Lucas was there. He looked up when Aiden entered. "You''re late."

"My apologies, Your Highness."

"Where were you?"

"Nowhere, Your Highness."

Lucas''s eyes narrowed. He stood, walked around the desk. Sniffed the air. "You smell like moonwort. And silverbane."

Aiden''s heart stopped. "I don''t know what you mean, Your Highness."

"Don''t lie to me." Lucas''s voice was low, dangerous. "Silverbane is restricted. For nobles only. Where did you get it?"

Aiden said nothing. What could he say?

Lucas studied him. Then, surprisingly, he smiled. "You helped someone. A slave. Risked punishment to get medicine."

Aiden stayed silent.

"Who?" Lucas asked.

"No one important, Your Highness."

"Everyone is important to someone." Lucas leaned against the desk. "Was it Benjamin Swiftwind? I heard he was ill."

Aiden''s silence was answer enough.

Lucas nodded. "Interesting. You risk everything for a slave who might betray you tomorrow."

"He won''t."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

Lucas laughed. A short, sharp sound. "You''re either very stupid or very brave. I haven''t decided which."

"Does it matter, Your Highness?"

"It might." Lucas walked to the window. Looked out at the courtyard. "Sebastian wants to meet you."

"Sebastian?"

"My advisor. He''s heard about you. The slave who reads old script. Who isn''t afraid of full moons. Who steals medicine for other slaves."

Aiden''s stomach tightened. "Why would he want to meet me?"

"Because you''re interesting." Lucas turned, met his eyes. "Be careful with Sebastian. He''s smarter than he looks. And he has his own agenda."

"When?"

"Tonight. After dinner. The north garden."

Aiden bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."

He went back to cleaning shelves. His mind raced. Sebastian. Lucas''s advisor. What did he want?

The day passed slow. Aiden cleaned, thought, worried.

Benjamin found him at dinner. Sitting alone at the end of a long table.

"You shouldn''t be up," Aiden said.

"I''m fine. Thanks to you." Benjamin sat beside him. Voice low. "I owe you."

"You don''t owe me anything."

"I do." Benjamin looked around, made sure no one was listening. "I have information. About Sebastian."

Aiden''s attention sharpened. "What?"

"He''s not just an advisor. He''s from the north. From one of the old families. He came here years ago. No one knows why." Benjamin leaned closer. "They say he has his own network. Spies. Allies. They say he''s playing a long game."

"What game?"

"I don''t know. But be careful tonight. Sebastian doesn''t do anything without a reason."

Aiden nodded. "Thanks."

Benjamin stood. "One more thing. If Sebastian offers you something—friendship, protection, anything—think hard before you accept. Everything has a price here."

He walked away. Aiden watched him go, the warning echoing in his mind.

That night, after dinner, Aiden went to the north garden.

It was different from the west courtyard. Larger, wilder. Trees, bushes, a small pond. Moonlight filtered through leaves, painting everything in silver and shadow.

Sebastian waited by the pond. Tall, slender, silver hair tied back. He wore simple clothes, but they were fine fabric, well-made. He looked like a scholar, not a courtier.

"Aiden Moonlight," he said. Voice soft, cultured. "I''ve heard much about you."

"Your Highness." Aiden bowed.

"Please. Call me Sebastian." He smiled. It reached his eyes, but didn''t warm them. "Lucas tells me you''re exceptional."

"I''m just a slave, sir."

"Just a slave." Sebastian walked along the pond''s edge. "Who reads old script. Who controls his change better than trained warriors. Who risks his life for others." He stopped, turned. "That''s not ''just a slave.'' That''s something else."

Aiden said nothing. Watched.

"I want to offer you something," Sebastian said. "Friendship. Protection. Guidance."

"Why?"

"Because I think you have potential. And because this place..." He gestured at the garden, the estate beyond. "This place eats potential. Grinds it to dust."

"And what do you want in return?"

Sebastian''s smile widened. "Smart. Direct. I like that." He stepped closer. "Loyalty. That''s all. When the time comes, I may ask for your help. And I hope you''ll give it."

"What kind of help?"

"That depends on what happens. On who you become." Sebastian''s eyes were pale grey, like morning fog. "Right now, you''re a slave. But I think you could be more. Much more."

Aiden thought of Benjamin''s warning. Everything has a price.

"What if I say no?"

"Then we part as strangers. No harm, no foul." Sebastian shrugged. "But I think you''ll say yes. Because you''re smart enough to know you need allies. And I''m the best ally you''ll find here."

Aiden looked at the pond. Moonlight on dark water. Ripples spreading.

He thought of Lucas''s tests. Of Benjamin''s warning. Of his own secret, buried deep.

He needed allies. He needed protection. But at what cost?

He looked back at Sebastian. "Alright."

Sebastian''s smile was genuine this time. "Good." He extended a hand. "Shake on it?"

Aiden shook his hand. Sebastian''s grip was firm, dry. "Welcome to the game, Aiden Moonlight. It''s about to get interesting."

He released Aiden''s hand, turned, walked away. Disappeared into the shadows.

Aiden stood alone by the pond. The water rippled, catching moonlight.

Allies now. Benjamin. Sebastian.

Enemies? Lucas? Others?

He didn''t know. But he knew this: the mask was getting harder to wear. The game was getting more dangerous.

And somewhere, deep down, the prince was waking up.