by Ella Fields
It happened so fast, and just as it did with the king, I barely saw it. A series of slight crunches, night coalescing in shadowed tendrils, and skin turned fur. The males were full wolf by the time they collided in the air over the table and took a chair with them to the floor.
The chair splintered into pieces. Growling, snarling, and cheering erupted, but it didn’t last longer than a collection of short seconds.
From the other side of the cavernous room, in a corner I couldn’t see that faced the naked females upon the circular chaise, came a snarl lethal enough to rupture eardrums and haunt dreams.
Dade took his time. In a loose steel-gray long-sleeved shirt that gaped at his chest, giving a glimpse of the fine hairs dusting his sun-warmed skin, his long legs—thick thighs hugged tight by black pants—ate the quick to clear space of the ballroom.
The silence became so complete that each thud of his knee-high boots grew into an echo.
With one dark glance my way, he sighed and looked at the misbehaving warriors who were now in their Fae forms, standing ramrod straight, waiting on reprimand.
“Change back,” Dade ordered, and then the males were wolves once more, formidable in size and height, but nowhere near the monstrous size of their winged ruler. “Walk home and stay home until told otherwise.”
The red wolf left first, the black and gray following, both their tails tucked between their legs.
“You too,” the king said, and I’d been so busy watching the wolves slink past me, the red one stopping to sniff at my leg, that I hadn’t realized he was talking to me.
I blinked, and he sneered, walking toward me when I didn’t move. “Do you really want to enrage me any further, swan?”
“I just…” Too many eyes, even some of those fucking again in varying spaces of the room, were on me. I squared my shoulders and tried again anyway, looking directly into the king’s cold eyes. “I need to talk to you. Please.”
A brow rose. “Please?” He swung one foot in front of the other, slowly stalking forward. “My, my. Well”—he gestured to the hall—“by all means, lead the way.”
Snickering followed as I stepped out, and he trailed, the doors closing behind him.
I couldn’t keep my gaze from the glossed, engraved dark wood. “Something bothering you, sunshine?”
He knew very well what was bothering me, and still, I said, “What were you doing in there?”
The king leaned back against the wall, tucking a hand inside his pant pocket as he eyed me for a heated half minute, then sighed. “What did it look like I was doing?”
“Well, I couldn’t see you, but there were naked females, and they were…” My cheeks grew warm, and I looked down at my bare feet, feeling so incredibly small. Useless and stupid yet again.
“Fucking. They were fucking. Say it with me.”
I refused, and the king laughed without humor, the airy sound raising hairs all over my body. Taking his hand from his pocket and rubbing his jaw, he stated in a bland tone, “We are warriors, but we are also family and friends, and we enjoy the finer things this long eternal life has to offer just like any other creature does.”
My stomach sank so hard and swift that I feared the little food I’d had for dinner might hurl itself up my throat. “That means you—”
“You used what I feel for you against me, but I am the fool for letting you.”
“So you retaliate in this way?” I asked, each new breath sharp and slicing. “What would you have me do?” I surprised myself by asking. “If you were me, what would you have done?”
“Swan,” he said, and I’d never heard him say it without inflection, as though it were just a word. “You seek empathy from a male who has none. You are a bird, and I am a beast. Now run along before I ponder the possibility of crafting a flag of victory from those lovely black feathers.”
He left me with his harsh yet undeniably true words and closed himself back inside his den of debauchery.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there with my eyes and chest burning, but when I heard something thump against the closed doors, followed by growling and laughter, I forced myself to head back down the hall.
My foot had barely met the cold marble of the landing when that scent—sweat and earth—returned. But too late for me to realize it was yet another foe.
“He might not pluck those feathers…” Heated breath washed over my shoulder. “But I will.”
Something smacked into the side of my head, and then there was nothing.
I ended up in the dungeon after all, though it wasn’t Dade who’d brought me here.
“Serrin,” the male said with an unnerving amount of calm when he returned and realized I was awake. “Uncle to the alpha king and his advisor.” Wading toward me, he observed the metal that’d been looped around my neck and grimaced. “My, this is unpleasant, but you see, I’ve been left with little choice.”
The chain was tight, but not so tight that I struggled to breathe and talk. My hands were bound behind my back with what burned like rope. “Where is he?”
“They left this morning to terrorize a little town named Tulane. You might know of it?”
He indeed knew that I was more than familiar with the town by the border of Sinshell. The Well of Wishes resided there, as well as a creek that contained healing stones and algae. It wasn’t just those things that spiked a nail of fear through my heart, though.
It was the people. Tulane was a farming town. What remained of my father’s extended family still lived there. I wondered if the king knew that, and judging by the gleam in the blue-eyed male before me, I was guessing he did not.
“You know my family lives there. That more innocent people live there.”
“Perhaps not anymore,” Serrin said, grimacing again. “I would say all is fair in love and war, but we both know this war and”—he waved a hand at me flippantly—“whatever it is you and Dade have been struggling with is anything but fair.”
The male who, besides being gifted with similar-colored eyes, looked nothing like his nephew knew very well that we were mated.
Serrin circled me, the scrape of his fingers over his short, dark beard mingling with his booted steps.
He was patient, waiting for my curiosity to drown my stubborn desire to remain quiet. “What is it you want?”
Footsteps ceased, his shoulder-length brown hair falling over one eye as he came to a stop before me. “To end this once and for all.” He procured a dagger from a sheath at his waist and stepped closer. “He’ll forgive me, and I hope you do, too, as I’m merely doing what he should’ve already done. Now change.”
Confused, I asked, “What? Why?”
“Just do it.” When I didn’t, he sighed and circled behind me, then thrust the tip of the blade into my arm. I screamed. No one would hear me, I knew, but I couldn’t help it as my blood fizzed and warred against the iron that tried to poison my veins.
I shifted, wings flapping, the chain around my neck tightening, the other end now in Serrin’s hands instead of hooked to the ceiling.
“Stay still, Princess,” he ordered, but I continued to struggle, my neck throwing itself around, instinct screaming to flee, to be rid of the metal around it.
I might have been a bird, but I was half the size of him, and I couldn’t help the urge to swing my beak at his pawing hands. He evaded me. One by one, he plucked the feathers from my body, the sharp pinch enraging me to the point of getting tangled up in the chain on my back.
“That’s it,” Serrin crooned, looming over me now, a hammer and large nail in hand. His boot landed upon my leg, the hammer striking the nail hovering above my wing—once, twice…
I passed out and came to with both wings staked to the stone floor, feathers, too many of them, being gathered in a large sack over by an empty cell.
“You’re awake,” Serrin said, clomping over. “Good. Now, I must send some feathered treasure to the dear golden queen, but of course, a threat cannot be delivered without a healthy dose of bl
ood. My apologies, Princess. I know it’s easier for you to heal in this form, but I need you to shift back if you wish to fly again.”
Knowing better than to ignore his warning, I did as requested, agony rushing in and blackening my vision from the two holes in my lower arms.
“A few days and they should heal nicely. I missed the bone,” he said as if he’d done me a favor.
I couldn’t talk. I feared that if I opened my mouth, I’d wail like a babe and scream until my lungs gave out.
But it wasn’t over yet.
He hauled me up to sit against the wall, then tore at my gown until I was wearing nothing but my canary yellow undergarments. No, he wasn’t satisfied until he’d plunged the knife inside one of the wounds and twisted, holding the limb over the sack of feathers.
Blood gathered and spread over the luminous black, collecting in a thick layer that would soak clean through the feathers and cream canvas. Shreds of my gown were tossed inside. “Your mother must surrender, swear her fealty to our king, and then we can be done with all this,” Serrin muttered as though I’d agree, and then he was gone.
The butcher left. He left, and I was left half-naked with blood pooling beneath me on the ground.
Dade
Fourteen years old
“On your feet, boy.”
I spat a glob of blood at the dirt, my head ringing and my sword beside me. I could stretch out and reach it, but I couldn’t. Every part of me was chipped—my very bones brittle and aching.
“Dade,” Serrin barked.
I pushed to my feet, too slow for his liking, and landed flat on my ass as his steel-toed boot collided with my gut. My breakfast left my stomach, burned its way up my throat, but I’d been here before.
Every damned day. Morning, noon, and night, I was tortured beyond reason, but the reason was always the same.
My uncle came for my jugular. “Do you think they’d be proud?” He released a snide laugh. “You’re a disgrace. Now get on your fucking feet,” he roared with a vehemence I couldn’t ignore.
I understood his pain. I felt it every waking morning when he forced me to before my eyes had fully opened. My father had been his best friend, his idol, a mate found in a brother.
And he’d never let me forget.
I snatched up my sword, and we danced. I struck, left, left, right, then feigned a turn, catching him off guard. It only served to enrage him further, his attacks no longer practiced caution but life or death.
The shock of it could’ve killed me, but he’d been this furious many times before. Just once, the first time, as I’d lain in a pool of my own blood, unsure if I’d see the sun rise again, was enough for me to take his deadly rage seriously.
We fought until I was shoved back against the wooden fencing, other warriors of similar ages going through their morning stances and routines in the pens across from ours.
I could feel their eyes on us, hear the general bark at them to clear out as I pushed back against the steel that came for my side. My teeth bared, blood boiling as Serrin’s eyes clashed with mine, the hatred and grief and frustration in his too much to break away from.
Trapped. I was trapped, and he’d never set me free.
I wanted to avenge my parents’ deaths. I wanted to rule this kingdom with a brutal, furred fist. I wanted to make sure everyone knew the price of crossing a Volkahn.
But I also wanted to follow the others as they left the training yards and returned to their homes or barracks. I wanted to fly with them, fight with them, and I knew I would, but… when?
When would I be good enough to live a life outside of my uncle and his bloodlust? When would I be able to laugh with the others as they trained and fought together? When would I be treated as a growing king and less like a beast that would never be tamed? When would I be able to follow a female around who’d piqued my interest rather than eye the female warriors from afar?
When would I be able to fucking breathe without being berated and reminded and beaten and controlled?
A roar tore from somewhere deep inside, shocking us both as my skin hummed but did not catch fire with the change. “If this means so much to you, why don’t you just become king?”
Serrin’s eyes flared, and he pulled away. Just when I thought he was done with me for the morning, he spun back, the side of his blade catching me in the shoulder hard enough to slice through my leather tunic and graze my skin. “You ungrateful—”
I let go, unraveling into a darkness so complete, a burn that split apart my breathing and bones and remolded everything into more. Sharper, fiercer, deadlier—it happened so quickly, faster than ever before, that my uncle had no time to react.
I snarled, teeth poised over his throat, my growled breath pluming the frigid air. Pinned beneath my paws, claws sinking into his shoulders, Serrin looked something other than crestfallen and furious.
For the first time in my entire life, he stared at me with fear.
It swam in his eyes, flooded and seeped through his pores, and I inhaled it deep, drunk from a growing power stronger than anything I’d encountered from my maturing body before.
A thunderous growl left me, uncontrolled and steaming the air, dampening his cheek. His hands rose, his eyes collecting pain to accompany the fear as my claws sank deeper.
“Dade,” he ordered, though it lacked the usual sharp conviction. “Dade, return. Change back.”
Bone crunched beneath the weight of my paws, his blood running between them into the dirt by his head.
He tried again, voice softer, more gentle than I’d heard before. “Dade, please. You must change back.”
I snarled, teeth closer to his cheek, tempted to take a bite—just one. Though I was sure his flesh would taste like sour milk, he had to learn. He had to pay.
“Your mother wanted you,” he said, shocking me. “You were a surprise, of course, though she knew your father was lying. That he’d planned your conception. She didn’t care.” He laughed, the sound wet. “She didn’t care because from the moment she realized you existed, she loved you. She loved you with a love so pure, she cried every time you did when you arrived.”
I eased back on my haunches, but only a little.
“Not even a week,” he continued. “She didn’t even get a week to learn how to stop feeling your pain, your hunger, your confusion as if it were her own, and your father… when he left for the annual meeting of the bridges, he’d had a mere three days. Just three fucking days.” He enunciated each word with a clenched jaw as though it took everything for him to keep the grief welling in his eyes from escaping.
I retracted my claws. He hissed, the wounds steaming the cold before they slowly began to close.
“He was gone a day too long. That one day was enough to have your mother pacing, torn between her two greatest loves. I said I would go. I begged for her to stay, to wait until morning when the rest of the guard would be ready to leave with her. She said she would.”
He swallowed, and it sounded as though it hurt. “She promised,” he rasped, tears slowly leaking from his eyes now. “And I know he’ll never forgive me because I went to bed. I did not stop her that night when she left you with the nursemaid and ran. She ran to her mate, to her death, and she did so with hope that whatever was wrong could be fixed, that he would be okay, though she knew and could feel otherwise.”
I whined low, peeling my paws from his shoulders, bone grinding under my weight, and stood over him instead. But I wouldn’t let him leave. Not yet. Not until I’d heard the rest. Not until I’d felt that organ inside me blacken and perish just that little bit more.
Serrin sniffed, groaning before he went on. “When we reached old bridge later the next day, they were gone. It would be another two days of riding and flying through Sinshell until we found them hanging from flower-trussed poles, blood leaking from everywhere, and Kenton Gracewood demanding we agree to his terms, or they would die.”
His grief melded with my own, climbing higher into a fury that scorched thro
ugh every vein until I felt it embed deep within my soul.
“Those terms?” Serrin said, a dry laugh following. “To send you to a human kingdom, either Errin or across the sea, to be raised as one of them so that you would not know all of what you could be, and therefore not bring the doom they feared you would. The foretold bullshit from a deranged sorceress who claimed you would be the end to the Gracewood line.”
A low rumble slipped between my teeth, and I gnashed them, my uncle smiling sadly. “Exactly,” he said. “They created their own doom when Althon’s father slid that sword across your mother’s throat and then into her heart. And though your father had been tortured for days to agree to their terms, his agony was so violent that it shook the earth. It set him free, and thus the first war began.”
I hadn’t realized we’d gathered a small audience, but not even the generals and trainers cared to tell the other wolves to fall back in line. No, they did not care to talk at all, to interrupt any part of what my uncle was saying, though I was sure they’d heard it before. Some of them had even been there. The misery and unjustness, the crime that had gone unpunished, kept them rooted to the spot or quietly drawing closer.
“It ended just two days after, as you already know, with a spear through your father’s eye courtesy of Althon Gracewood.” I moved back enough for Serrin to sit up. “We were outnumbered severely, but when Joon, the Gracewood prince, fell too, they pulled back. They called an end to the battle of their own making, as though they were the judge, jury, and executioners, and we were nothing but beasts expected to blindly obey.”
That name chanted through me, cursed me, and I welcomed it, bowed to the desire to crush it from existence—Althon Gracewood.
Serrin wiped a muddied hand over his cheek, leaving dirt in its wake but uncaring. “She ran with hope, and in the end, that was what killed your mother. The hope that creatures would not be good and kind, but fair and just. Hope kills,” he hissed, climbing to his feet. “So kill it first and fight. Let this entire continent know they made the gravest mistake of their miserable lives when they stole from us.”