by Kyra Quinn
Jett exhaled a thick cloud of sweet floral smoke towards the splatter of stars above. “You haven’t laid eyes on the birthday girl, then. I’d bet my left lung she’s no virgin sacrifice. Not with a body like that and those big ‘love me’ eyes.”
Viktor couldn’t help but laugh. “Who is these days? If the shadow gods don’t relax their standards, blood mages may go extinct in the next decade or two. Still, wish I’d caught onto what she had planned for her time in Wyvenmere.”
“It’s not your fault. Shapeshifters are, by nature, devious and manipulative creatures used to wearing whatever skin they need to for survival. That’s what makes them so dangerous.”
“If she can fly, there’s no way they stuck around Wyvenmere for long. Not with the full force of the king’s personal guard after her.”
Jett smirked. His copper eyes glistened beneath the alabaster moonlight. “Are you suggesting what I think?”
“We can cover more ground faster if we shift. Our senses will sharpen. If we want any chance of finding them before Zorya, we need every advantage.”
Jett cracked his neck. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Viktor swallowed and tightened his hands into fists. Remiel’s voice jumped out from his memories, reminding him of the dangers of too much time spent in his primal state. But Viktor didn’t have time to consider the potential ramifications. He had to find Lady Iris before Zorya and the guards did. His time with Jett had eased some of his anxieties about his wolf form. He had grown to relish in the way the wind felt as it blew through his fur, not to mention the incredible speed and enhanced senses gifted to children of the moon.
The bloodlust and lack of ability to form complex thoughts, however, posed their own dangers. He clenched his jaw as his body twisted and contorted. His worries about Lili and the royals soon faded. Within moments, his mind emptied of every thought but one: run.
As planned, he and Jett covered twice the ground in half the time after their transformations. Viktor bolted across the tundra with his nose pressed against the frozen soil in search of any small trace of the missing girl. No complicated emotions or questions pulled at his thoughts as a wolf. In this body, his only thoughts revolved around his physical senses and the task at hand.
He didn’t remember the girl’s name anymore, let alone what she looked like. Moara had shown them a portrait before they left the palace, but most of the evening’s memories had fled his mind the moment he shifted. The longer he spent as a wolf, the more his memories and attachments to the mortal world faded. If he stayed away for too long, he’d lose all memory of Viktor Kinzhal and life as a man.
There. A faint whiff of lavender and vanilla teased his nostrils. Viktor and Jett froze next to each other. Their eyes met, and Jett gave a short nod before springing forward and dashing away with his nose on the ground. He likely didn’t recall the girl’s face any better than Viktor did, but neither of them had lost her scent. Not when their survival depended on finding her.
Viktor and Jett ran with their noses smashed against the frigid soil. The girl’s scent led them through the barren forest and into Starbright. Viktor’s fur prickled the moment they arrived, but he dismissed the ominous vibe and focused his attention on their mission. They followed the girl’s scent to a rundown brick building in the west end of the cozy town. Snowcapped mountains surrounded them on either side. Wooden boards were nailed behind shattered windows, the stones aged and weathered. Viktor had sparse memories of his time in Starbright, but he had never imagined it so dismal. Dark clouds hid the starry sky. Thick white flakes fell from the heavens and clung to his fur until he shivered.
Viktor moved to creep towards the door, but Jett reached out a paw and stopped him. He cocked his head, puzzled, until he realized what Jett must have had in mind. They had a better chance of talking things through with the fugitive and victim in their human bodies. But what did they do about the lack of clothing and weapons if things went south?
But Jett’s body twisted and contorted, the transition already underway. Too late to communicate his concerns, Viktor closed his eyes and bowed his head and followed suit. A few moments later, he and Jett stood side-by-side in the snow outside the abandoned building.
“Bullocks, it’s freezing out here,” Jett said, his teeth chattering.
Viktor rolled his eyes. “A lack of clothing in the dead of winter will do that. What’s the plan? Stroll in there in the nude and hope our chiseled bodies soften Lady Iris enough to change her mind?”
Jett shrugged. “We don’t have time for modesty on this mission. The girl’s life is in danger.”
Viktor didn’t want to believe Lady Iris capable of murder, but he also had never imagined her kidnapping a girl from her birthday celebration. “Kidnapper or not, Lady Iris is still a shapeshifter and a representative of Clan Sova. We owe her the respect of hearing her side of the story.”
“What does it matter?” Jett muttered. “Her execution is guaranteed either way.”
Viktor threw the heavy metal door of the building open with his shoulder and burst into some sort of abandoned factory or warehouse. No moonlight or candles illuminated the interior, the darkness suffocating. Jett’s footsteps appeared behind him, his bare feet slapping against the concrete floor with each step. Dust choked the air until his lungs burned. He squinted, but it was impossible to further than his own hands.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Lady Iris’s voice called out from the darkness. Heels clacked against the concrete as her silhouette stepped closer to where they stood.
“Better us than King Dyius’s pet,” Jett said. “At least we’ll give you a chance to explain.”
“I owe you nothing,” she hissed.
“Where is the girl?” Viktor asked, lowering his voice. He stepped closer and held his hands up in front of him, hopeful his vulnerable condition might soften her disposition. “Is she safe?”
“Of course she’s safe. Safer than she ever was with those monsters who raised her.”
Viktor froze. A new chill crept down his spine and seeped into his bones, this one unrelated to the temperature outside. “What is that supposed to mean? You kidnapped her from her Stalasc.”
“No. I liberated her.”
A pair of feet hit the concrete floor a few feet away with a loud thud. Lady Iris appeared from the shadows, her pupils wide with rage. She stopped in front of Viktor and jammed a bony finger into his chest.
“You witnessed the same thing I did in that manor. But you didn’t see Sonya weeping in her bathroom as she awaited news of her fate. No one cared how much it broke her heart to marry a man she’d never care for. Not if it made her parents proud.”
“She could grow to care for him in time—” Jett started.
Iris slammed her foot into the ground. “No! She won’t. No matter who won tonight, this ceremony sets her up for a lifetime of misery.”
“Iris,” Viktor said, careful to keep his voice gentle as he reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “The culture in Wyvenmere is different. We can’t assume what’s right for us is what’s right for everyone, or what Miss Corbyn wanted.”
“I can speak for myself,” a new voice appeared from the shadows. “Lady Iris has done nothing wrong. I chose to leave.”
“From what we’ve gathered, that isn’t your choice to make,” Jett said. “If you return with us, we may still have time to convince your parents and the Queen to spare Lady Iris’s life.”
“No!” The girl’s cry rattled the windows. “You can’t hurt her. She has done nothing but spare me from a life of misery.”
Sonya appeared from the shadows, her eyes glistening with tears. A sleek emerald gown hung from her narrow shoulders. Anger twisted her soft features, her nostrils flared. Her voice trembled as she locked eyes with Viktor and said, “I won’t let you hurt her.”
A dull ache settled into Viktor’s chest as the truth struck him like a brick. The stars in Sonya’s eyes when she glanced Lady Iris’s direction was all the evidence h
e needed. “You’re lovers. How long?”
Lady Iris shook her head, her eyes misty. “Since the ball at the palace. Wyvenmere isn’t the best city for my kind. I don’t spend much time there. But when she and I met…”
“Please tell my parents I’m sorry, but I can’t return home with you,” Sonya called out from the shadows. “Iris is my destiny. In her arms is the most alive I’ve ever felt.”
“That’s lovely, but it doesn’t work that way, Miss Corbyn.” Jett took a step forward, his gaze fixed on the darkness in the distance. “Your parents and society have certain expectations of you. You can’t run off to live in the mountains with the shapeshifters.”
Iris’s lip curled back in a sneer. “No one expects a pair of beasts to understand intricate matters of the heart.”
Viktor sighed. “We found you first, but if Zorya is as good as they say, she’ll show up before long. And I can promise you that lady gives no damns about anyone’s emotions.”
“Grab them.” Jett pointed at Lady Iris’s chest and sneered. “We can figure the rest out on the trip back to the palace.”
“No!” the girl cried out from the darkness. “If you take her back to the castle, my family will never let anyone discover the truth. It’d besmirch their name. They’ll have Iris executed for my abduction.”
Viktor and Jett exchanged hesitant glances. Lady Iris’s face turned to stone, her lips pressed together into a thin white line. The situation struck him as complicated enough without the added weight of deceit. “The Queen plans to try her for abduction and treason, yes. If found guilty, they will execute her in the courtyard to set an example for future visitors with wise ideas.”
“Notwithstanding your emotions, Lady Iris knew the consequences of her actions. She can’t escape fate now.”
“Please,” the girl said, her voice choked by tears. “If you let her go, I’ll return without fuss or fight. I’ll marry whatever moronic meathead my father selects. Let her leave here now and pretend we never saw her, and I will spend the rest of my life in your debt.”
Jett caught Viktor’s eye and shook his head. “Don’t entertain the notion. Queen Moara wants her tried and executed. We have no choice.”
But Viktor had made up his mind. “There is always a choice.” He turned to Lady Iris and said, “Run, and don’t stop until you’ve reached somewhere far from Starbright. They may still send Zorya to bring you in. Stay in your avian form as much as possible and stay mobile. Jett and I will handle the rest and see that Miss Corbyn is taken care of.”
Lady Iris’s teary eyes flickered between Viktor and the darkness. She pressed a hand to her heart, and for a moment Viktor worried she might dig her claws in and protest more. But she choked out a weak, “Thank you,” and sprinted out of the empty factory without so much as a goodbye to her almost lover. An empty feeling settled into Viktor’s chest.
“That was foolish,” Jett scolded. He glared at Viktor with unconcealed contempt, his nostrils flared. Footsteps shuffled above them as the girl made her way down to where they stood. “Lady Moara will take our heads instead.”
“I don’t serve a king,” Viktor said, his voice low. “True morality is doing the right thing when it’s the most difficult.”
Jett rolled his eyes. “A noble sentiment, but not one worth dying for.”
Viktor shot a glance towards Sonya, who had sunk to the ground and buried her head in her hands. He wanted to squeeze her shoulder and reassure her things would turn out for the best, but his feet remained rooted to the floor. What right did he have to make promises he couldn’t keep?
Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “You have my sincerest apologies, Miss Sonya. None of this is fair to you.”
The door flew open behind them once more, and Viktor worried for a moment Lady Iris had changed her mind. Instead, Zorya stormed into the warehouse with two armed guards in full armor trailing behind her.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
Viktor gestured towards the petite girl stepping into view. “We found the girl, but she was alone. She said the fugitive abandoned her here hours ago.”
“Canvas the area,” Zorya ordered the soldiers behind her. “Bring me that bird.”
Viktor said a silent prayer Iris had already flown far from Starbright’s borders. He’d done all he could to protect her and risked his life to save hers. The rest was in the hands of fate.
“We should get Miss Sonya back to her father’s estate in Wyvenmere,” Viktor said instead, extending his hand out for her to take. “I’m sure her family is sick with worry.”
“You do that,” Zorya said, her tone low with suspicion. “We’ll stay here and hunt for the fugitive. If she left her prey in this shithole, she’s nearby.”
Viktor wished her luck as he ushered Sonya out of the building and into the snowy night, Jett on their heels. He could almost feel the anxiety and dread weighing on her shoulders. His heart ached for her as she shuffled a few paces behind him. No one knew how heavy a burden fate was better than him.
* * *
The Queen paced a slow circle around the Throne Room. She clasped her hands behind her back, her steps heavy. Short, furious breaths fluttered in her chest. Her nostrils flared, her pale flesh flushed. Two soldiers with identical masks of worry stood guard in front of the exit.
He and Jett had taken their time on the journey home, mostly to allow young Sonya time to grieve her lost love and the sacrifice she’d made to protect her. She had made mention of the awkwardness their exposed bodies created after a few minutes into their trip. They’d jumped at the chance to transition back into their wolf forms, each taking turns letting the girl ride on their back until they reached the dressmaker’s shop a few miles from the castle. After pilfering a new suit and a pair of shoes, they led Sonya to the palace in somber, heavy silence.
Zorya had returned minutes before them, her men still canvasing every inch of Wyvenmere for Lady Iris. She had avoided Viktor’s gaze as she broke the news of the “lost” fugitive to the queen.
Queen Moara hadn’t responded, instead bolting from her chair and marching as the wheels in her head turned. Viktor was confident she saw straight through their lies, and he’d expected her to lock him in the dungeon and remove his head come morning. Her silence, however, unnerved him more.
Until the night fate had dragged Lili into his life, Viktor had never placed much value in the opinions of others. He had never pictured himself the hero in anyone’s story. Not after he had spent most of his life hidden in the shadows to avoid fate’s cruelty. How might Lili or Aster have handled the Lady Iris situation? How much would his decision to allow her to live cost him by the time Moara was satisfied with her vengeance?
He had no regrets about the decision he’d made with Iris and Sonya. But the rage he sensed in Moara’s movements made him wish he’d taken a bit more time to listen to Jett’s concerns. Why had he risked everything for someone he had met twice? Did their doomed love story remind him of his own in some sick way?
“You had a simple task,” the queen said, her tone ice. “Rescue the girl and bring the creature who abducted her to justice. Do either of you care to explain how you failed to fulfill the most basic of requests?”
“Lady Iris is an Avian,” Jett said, his posture stiff. “My best guess is she sensed us coming and flew away to avoid capture. Avians are sharp.”
“We secured what information we could from the girl on the trip back, but the information is muddled at best. Poor thing was exhausted,” Viktor added.
Queen Moara reached for a glass vase filled with white roses and hurled it into the wall. Viktor tensed as the glass shattered into a pile of shards. “I don’t want your pathetic excuses. I want that damn bird roasted over an open flame. Zorya, prepare a small company of your best men and have them prepared to leave at daybreak. Bring me that bitch’s head.”
Zorya’s face paled, but she dropped into a low bow. “Of course, Your Majesty. Long may you reign.” She backed out of
the Throne Room and disappeared, leaving Jett and Viktor alone to face the queen’s wrath.
“Zorya will not fail me twice,” Moara said, studying her painted nails. “She has more than her position at court to lose. But now there’s you two to deal with.”
“Your Grace—”
“Save it,” Moara snapped. “No one cares. The guards will take you to your cells now.”
“Now?” Jett’s eyes bulged. “We still had time—”
“We do not need time for this decision. Ambrose is the only person you managed to sway to your side. Your presence in Wyvenmere has caused nothing but trouble. But come dawn, your empty words and failure to honor your commitments will never harm anyone again.”
A guard seized Viktor’s arms from behind. He moved to struggle, but the man reached out and kicked the back of his knees and forced him to fall forward. He slapped a set of heavy iron shackles around Viktor’s wrists with his knee pressed into his spine. A sharp pain shot up his spine and through his skull until his vision blurred, Queen Moara’s blood red heel the only thing he could decipher.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, gentlemen!” she called after them. “I look forward to your execution at sunrise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Cursed Castle
Only the righteous and courageous shall inherit a place in the Elysian Gardens after death.
-The Sacred Texts, 125:32
It took a few moments on the pegasi’s back for me to learn I liked winged mares far less than the docile ones father had groomed to pull his carriage in my youth. I squeezed Aster’s waist so hard I feared I might snap her narrow midsection in half. We soared through the inky night sky, the stars reduced to tiny flecks of light as they blurred past. My hair bounced with every flap of the pegasi’s feathered wings. The creature’s energy vibrated beneath me, but the gentle buzz offered no comfort.