by Ella Fields
I shrank back into myself, more bruised and battered on the inside than out, but something had changed.
Something had irrevocably changed as I turned in a circle and took in the grim faces surrounding our enclosure. Some just stared, horrified, others had tears in their eyes, and some of them nodded in confirmation that every word Serrin said was true.
I’d known it was true. I’d known, but I hadn’t known how scalding the details of that truth would be—the brutal chill of them frosting through my bloodstream to freeze what remained of my heart.
I picked up my sword, barely feeling its hefty weight over the new one that had now become a part of me.
Serrin grinned, his eyes wet, and nodded. “There you finally are, my king.”
There was no unearthly way I could ever touch someone else, but my swan didn’t need to know that.
Just as she didn’t know I was standing in the middle of a once beautiful town named Tulane.
Of course, I enjoyed watching her jealousy drown her need to hate me. I enjoyed it, and I wanted more of it, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing her. Not yet. The mere sight of her inquisitive golden eyes the previous night, so hopelessly lost as she’d stared beyond me into the ballroom filled with gamblers, fighters, fuckers, and royalty, tempted me to torment her some more.
It wasn’t as though she didn’t deserve it.
Flame danced upon my palm, its burn nothing compared to the ice my swan had left me with. She’d toyed with me. Tricked me. Tried to seduce me into becoming a malleable puppet easily remolded and duped.
My swan would soon learn just how well such games would work out for her.
Yet as I went to reduce the town to cinders, something stopped me, and I launched the flame at a smattering of trees instead, my teeth gritting as I hollered, “Clear out.”
“No burning today?” Scythe asked, hurrying to my side with an armful of books and liquor.
I trudged through the blood-riddled puddles caused by the rain and the fall of their beloved well. “If we burn everything, then we have nothing to take for ourselves when the time arrives.”
Knowing I was right—I was always fucking right—Scythe turned back to order the wolves and our new friends to stop their pilfering and file out. Beneath my gore covered armor, something began to itch at my skin like a parasite.
A few precious moments passed before I remembered I’d felt this itch before.
I tore the metal off, charging for the horses, then growled and shifted when it didn’t abate, choosing to fly ahead instead.
The wind howled in greeting, flooding my ears, each whoosh of my wings unable to propel me fast enough as the ravine opened into the sea below and the itch beneath my skin warmed to a steady burn.
Snarling, I dropped with bruising speed to the cliffside.
Opal. I knew it before I warped to the Keep and found her minutes that felt like an eternity later. Righting my shirt as I raced into the dungeon, that burn now searing, I tripped to a stop as I rounded the doorway and caught sight of her.
Naked and caked in blood upon the dungeon floor.
A crunch echoed, but I knew it was no one. That it was nothing but the stone organ inside my chest, rupturing with each rusted beat.
The door at the other end of the dungeon creaked and groaned. Serrin entered with a pail of soapy water in hand and a healer trailing him. He stopped, the healer almost walking into him and then slowly stepping to his side. “Dade,” he said, blinking.
My vision turned crimson.
He’d touched her. He’d… he’d hurt her. He’d fucking put holes in her perfect body.
He’d plucked her feathers, some floating about the room, a sack of them resting beside her against the wall.
He’d terrorized my swan.
“Dade, n-now just l-listen.” Serrin set the pail down and edged closer. “It’s not as bad as it—argh.”
Gripping him around the neck, I launched him at the wall. He smacked into it with a boom loud enough to crack it. A sickening snap was heard beneath the crumbling of mortar and stone before he fell limp to the trembling floor.
The commotion stirred Opal—her choked gasp tearing me in two.
My fists curled, claws cutting into skin, my body torn between wolf and male and the desire to finish him off. To make sure he could never see her or so much as touch her, or anything else, ever again.
Then she said, “Tulane,” and I wanted to turn those claws upon my chest and throw myself at her bloodstained feet to beg for mercy. To ask what this life of before was, what she knew of it, and how we could make it together if she’d only forgive me.
She wouldn’t. She’d never forgive me. Hence why I was a bastard who just continued to make sure of that fact.
So instead, I hurried to her, hushed her, and pushed her hair from her face before gently removing the chain from her bruised neck. Blood still rushed from a deep wound in her arm, and I covered it with my hand, willing it to stop, to seal. It did, but it would only hold for so long before needing proper medical attention.
My stomach turned, rage and worry gnawing at each other and charging into each ragged breath I drew. Stars, the blood. Blood was fucking everywhere. Her other arm ravaged, too but neater, as though a stake had been driven straight through her flesh.
Looking at the sack of blood-soaked feathers, I swallowed thickly. “Swan,” I rasped.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and I carefully collected her into my arms, nodding at the healer who was watching on with a watery brown gaze. “Follow me.”
Opal
I woke in a fog, the silken waters of sleep peeling away like a soft sheet being pulled down my body.
An ache, dull and tempered by healing hands, lingered in both arms. When I peered at them, daylight streaming in through the windows beyond the bed and pushing my eyelids closed, I saw nothing but lightly stained bandages.
A low whine followed me into another dreamless sleep.
When I woke, the stars were out, the moon glazing over the beast prowling in circles at the end of my bed.
The white-furred giant made it five paces before needing to slink into a narrow turn and then paced again. I watched him, mesmerized by the liquid grace of each powerful step. Those paws, the muscle in his legs, he could stomp a hole right through the floor if he wanted to.
But it was the wings that stole my breath. The fur upon them was so light they appeared leathery at first glance. The hair grew dense toward the edges then spread into creamy feathers. They rustled, those giant wings, tucked close to his side but occasionally shifting when he released a huffed breath.
Needing some water, I pushed up onto my elbows and nearly choked when I set the glass down to find the beast stalking toward the side of the bed. Those eyes were the same cerulean blue, drinking me in, unblinking as he folded himself into a sitting position next to where I laid.
His snout was canine, larger than my head, but the horns that curled out into harsh bends behind his furred ears were like nothing I’d ever seen on a creature before. They shone, a deep glittering bronze, both sharper than blades at each severely pointed end.
It was said that the firstborn son or daughter of the king would bear horns. A feature that set them apart from the rest of their kin. A crown for the alpha of all beasts.
The king of wolves tilted that giant head, and finally, he blinked.
I blinked back, then realized he was waiting. I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I soon wondered if this was his way of asking if I was settled enough with his appearance for him to come closer when he released another huff, dark nostrils flaring as he lifted a paw and let it thump to the floor.
I swallowed, unsure yet also certain I wanted him closer.
And that was always the problem with this male. I feared I’d forever find myself stuck someplace between want and hesitation.
Then I remembered. Tulane.
I lowered to the bed and faced the opposite wall, ignoring his low whine.
Another day passed, my limbs too stiff and achy for me to endure more than a trip to the bathing chamber.
Still in his beast form, Dade continued with his pacing of the room, sometimes choosing to lay upon the furs on the floor, his giant snow tufted tail swishing while he slumbered.
His eyes flashed open, and I frowned, laying the book I’d been trying to read on the bedding next to me. A knock sounded seconds later, Dade’s snout in the air as he scented who it was, then growled low, as if annoyed, when Scythe entered.
He closed the door behind him, a smirk upon his full lips as he eyed his king. “Not tired of playing guard hound yet, my king?”
Dade growled harsh enough for his lips to peel back over gleaming white fangs.
Scythe, still smiling, tucked his hands inside his pant pockets. “Relax, I’m just here to inform you that your dear uncle has finally woken. He suffered a broken neck.” Scythe’s attention crawled slowly to me. “But he’ll live.”
Dade rose, quicker than I’d have thought something of that size could move, and began to pace again, this time slower, as though he were pondering something.
“Serrin,” I said, forcing my eyes from Dade to Scythe and away from the memory of a blood-hazed dungeon. “Did he end up delivering the, uh…”
“The package?” Scythe finished for me. I nodded, and he watched me for a moment, then released a rough breath and leaned back against the door. His black tunic, lined with crimson stitching, flattened against his hard chest as though the heavy fabric were crafted to move with him like air. “No, it’s been destroyed.”
Something in those words told me that he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the waste, but that he would not dispute it.
I nodded once more, curling some of my hair behind my ear as the memory of each pinching loss, feathers plucked as though they were brambles amongst skirts, rippled over me in a cold wave.
“He hasn’t shifted back,” I said, partly curious as to why and also wanting to fill the tense silence. To divert his attention someplace else. “Is there a reason?”
Scythe read the question I didn’t ask, is something wrong? And that curl of his lips returned.
“His senses are better in his baser form,” he said. “All of ours are, but his, well, they are unrivaled.” His smirk broadened into a dazzling smile. “Get used to him, swan. He won’t return until he’s ready.”
For the remainder of the day, I mulled over that, and when dinner arrived this time, I noticed an extra meal upon the tray.
Instead of eating at my bed as I usually did, I set it at the small table in the corner on the far side of the room. The space between the nightstand and the bookshelves was cramped, and I didn’t delude myself into thinking the king would fit on the chair opposite me even in his Fae form.
But there was enough space between the bed and the shelves, the white furs he’d napped upon between the watching beast and me, for him to come closer if he so wished and eat something.
Unsure if he’d shift back or not, I set his plate on the ground. The king didn’t so much as look at it, bright eyes never leaving me. His tail flicked behind him, those eyes moving to my plate and then back to mine, a spark of impatience within.
He wanted me to eat.
That made two of us. My arms trembled a little as I removed my cutlery from the tray and cut into the juicy slice of lamb. Dade’s tail stopped its swishing as I chewed, and after a few more mouthfuls of green beans and meat, I set my cutlery down and stared at him.
I hadn’t seen him eat once in the days we’d been sequestered in my rooms. Of course, he might have done so while I’d been asleep, but I highly doubted he’d have quit his brooding to make time for it.
His eyes narrowed, and I said, “You need to eat too.” They narrowed more, and I smirked. “I won’t be eating another bite unless you do.”
He snarled, the harsh grumble raising the hair upon my now steady limbs.
I didn’t relent, but I did pluck up his plate of food from the floor and cut the bone from the meat. Then I sliced the lamb into four large pieces and motioned for the king to come to me.
We both stilled.
An order. I’d given the monster of Nodoya an order, and while in his beast form at that.
My breath sat tight in my throat. Dade’s head cocked as though he were amused as he considered me.
My shoulders sagged when he didn’t move, and I tried a different approach. “Please.” The whispered word broke a little, surprising us both. But then he moved.
Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, mine never leaving his, the king’s giant body swayed with each powerful, lazy step he took across the carpet. I kept still, so still I wasn’t sure I was breathing, as his snout rose higher than my forehead, tilting downward for his gaze to meet mine over the long muzzle.
His scent was more potent in this form—smuggling inside my every extremity and locking up each muscle as I wondered if one large bite would tear my head clean from my shoulders.
His mouth opened, long tongue peeking out, and then he sat, though his head still loomed over mine. Unable to stop myself, I reached out with a tentative hand, watching those eyes to see if he’d snap, and when he merely waited, I gently stroked his mane. Instantly, my fingers disappeared inside the impossibly soft white fur, and I pulled them back with a start.
Dade licked his lips, and I looked away, stabbing into a piece of lamb with my fork. “You should probably lie down, unless you want me to stand.” As always, he was too close, too huge, and far too much for such a confined space.
He did, and I stopped myself from balking at the sign of submission.
A wolf king at the feet of a swan.
It took great effort to keep my hand steady as I delivered the fork to his mouth, which now sat nearly level with my chest, and his ears pulled back, as did his head.
I scowled. “You don’t like lamb? I don’t believe you.”
He huffed and swung his eyes to my free hand. It dawned then. Of course, he didn’t want me to use a fork. He wanted me to hand-feed him.
My stomach sank as I glanced at that mouth, the ginormous dagger flooded darkness within that would shred my entire hand in under a second. Dade stared at me, waiting, knowing I was at war with myself yet again and offering me something he wasn’t used to giving anyone else.
Patience.
He wouldn’t hurt me, I reminded myself. The bond we shared made that nearly impossible. At least, he wouldn’t hurt me physically.
My heart, my feelings, did not fall under that protect at all costs mentality—for he hadn’t a heart of his own. But when his nose gently nudged my hand, I wondered if somewhere behind those watching blue eyes, he was now learning that mine must be protected too.
So I picked up a piece of lamb, and with it in the palm of my hand, offered it to the king.
A flash of something moved behind those eyes before he lowered his head and gently licked the meat from my hand with his soft tongue. But when I made to pick another piece up, he grunted, and I sighed before snatching my fork to take two bites of my own meal, which had now grown cool but no less delicious, the beans soaked in a glazed caramelized onion sauce.
We continued in this fashion until all that remained were the vegetables. I set the plate upon the floor. “You can lick those up yourself,” I said, smiling when he released an irritated breath.
He ate, and satisfied, I helped myself to a glass of water, then tipped some into a small bread dish upon the tray after placing the tiny bread rolls onto my empty plate.
Though the size of his nose made it difficult, the king still lapped all the water from the bowl, but turned his head when I offered him more.
The following morning, the king refused breakfast but agreed to eat lunch. Of course. Meat and vegetables in this form were probably all he’d tolerate. The porridge would only make him ill.
That evening, the king dozing before the fireplace, I ran myself a bath after dinner, thankful for the time alone yet also fearful that he
might leave in my brief absence.
I should’ve known he’d protest at the wooden barrier and bust it open at the first sound of pain that left my mouth. Still, I slid inside the warm depths, vanilla-scented bubbles frothing near my chin, and gritted my teeth.
I’d barely noticed the healing wounds upon my back, the numerous tiny yet deep cuts that had nearly healed, until the water reminded me of how many feathers I’d be missing when I next shifted. I was almost too afraid to find out, praying that enough time would pass before I did and that many would have grown back beforehand.
“I’m fine,” I grumbled. Peeling the bandages from my arms, I set them over the ledge and selected a sponge from the windowsill to carefully drag over the healing wounds. “You can leave now.”
We both knew he’d do no such thing. He slumped to the ground right outside the bathing room, his head almost filling the doorway.
I sighed but finished washing before allowing myself a moment to just sit inside the warm, creamy water and breathe. A wet nose at my arm roused me from sleep, and I forced myself not to startle at the sight of Dade’s narrowed gaze inches from mine.
“Okay,” I said, righting myself in the tub and then remembering I was naked. It didn’t matter that he was a horned beastly wolf, nor that he’d seen me naked before, I still ordered, “I’ll get out if you give me the privacy to do so.”
He stared at me in a way that could only be described as mocking, then took his time turning in the small space and heading back into the bedroom.
He didn’t close the door, but when I looked over my shoulder before climbing out, I couldn’t see him. Wrapped in a cloth, I padded from the bathing room to the large robe in the next and selected a peach satin nightgown that fell to my knees.
Dade was slumbering upon the floor, one eye flicking open as I dragged a comb through my damp hair while walking back to the bed. I set it upon the nightstand, then gingerly pushed my legs underneath the bedding and listened to the wind howl outside, unable to sleep.
The thorns upon the vines clattered into the windows, the fire in the hearth guttering.