CHAPTER 17: SEVENTEEN

I bolt upright, gasping and drenched in sweat.

For a wild minute, I don’t recognise where I am, clawing for my throat and checking if it is still intact.

At the feel of marks against my skin, I tumble out of bed, staggering for the mirror across the unfamiliar bedroom. I grip the dresser’s edge and stare into the mirror, craning my neck.

"Oh gods..."

The skin of my neck is scorched with fingertips.

"Are you alright?"

I whirl, heart racing, and at the sight of Prince Rafe I push up the collar of my tunic, hiding unexplainable marks. It suddenly becomes imperative that I hide them, or whatever sorcery this is. I couldn’t trust anyone in this place enough to confide in them. Not about the horrors of my nightmares. Not about the King of Ebonheart. Not about what I am.

With only a vague suspicion that I was one of them, they tried to execute me. Goddess knows what they’ll do to me if I tell them I’ve suddenly developed the ability to...dream-walk, and I was communing with none other than the enemy.

"Just a bad dream," I stutter. My eyes flit about the room. "Why-- How did I get here?"

The Prince hands me a cup of something brown that smells like brew. "You collapsed from fatigue."

Right. I clutch my head, wincing at the mild headache. "How long has it been?"

His lips purse. "A day."

"A day?!" I exclaim, eyes wide. "I’ve been in here for a day? Why didn’t you wake me--" My gaze whips down as I glance at my body. Untouched. I release a sigh of relief.

"You needed the rest." Without meeting my eyes, he nods towards the table. A tray of mouth watering food sits, covered. On the wooden chair beside it, clothes are folded in a neat pile. "Dinner and fresh clothes. The bath chamber is on the left. I’ll be back in an hour. We’re on patrol duty tonight."

I start to respond but he’s already out the chamber, leaving me staring at the door in confusion.

True to his word, he appears an hour later, clad in nondescript clothing, light gear, twin swords at his hips, cloak slung over his broad shoulder.

I’m tightening the sword belt a little too large for my slim waist when he tosses me a black cloak, identical to his. A strong scent of spice and man hits me and I stomp on the heat that spreads in my lower belly. "Draw the hood tight over your head. The bleached roots have begun to show. Bright enough to draw attention."

Oh. I forgot about that completely. Hard to keep tabs on your looks in a place where mirrors were a fancy necessity. The only surface we were allowed was the steel of our blades and I’d been too caught up in my thoughts to notice.

Clasping the robe around me, I trudge after him. "I thought the guards manning the gates were in charge of patrol."

"They are." His hulking frame takes up the entirety of the stairwell and I have to widen my steps not to trip over. "But ever since the attack, we’ve sent men to patrol far beyond the walls each night. The enemy is within our borders. The attack on Grimrose was as a result of our negligence. They have made a stand there, closest to us, and if we receive the first wave of attack without warning, it will be deadly. We’re all that stands between death and Silvermoor. He will attack, eventually. So, it is important to keep tabs on his army, it’s size, the distance and any sudden movement. That way, we always have an edge."

I nod, teeth clattering as we mount our horses and ride into the dark night. Rafe nods at the men manning the gates and barks and order to shut them as we step outside, into the thick forest that shrouds the encampment.

"Have there been spies from their end?"

He nods, voice thick with venom. "We kill them before they ever get close enough."

He leads me deeper into the dark, ducking under tree branches on silent feet. He doesn’t spare me a glance once, even when a branch smacks into my face and I grunt. He only hisses an order to be quiet.

Danger rolls off him in waves tonight, and though I get the feeling that he might be angry about something, I don’t ask him about it.

After what feels like hours, we halt at the Néré river, by which time my bones ache from the numbing cold. I can’t feel my toes or fingers, and slipping the coat tighter around me doesn’t do much.

"How much further?" I croak, whisper echoing in the too-still forest around us.

His shoulders tense. "We don’t stop until we reach the last group’s marker. And then, a little further until we cover enough to place ours."

I nod, exhaling a cloud of cold air.

We continue onward, but something uncomfortable lingers in the air between Rafe and I. It’s in the way he keeps ahead and doesn’t spare a single glance back. The way whenever we come withing touching distance, he visibly flinches. Or the grunts of frustration he releases every now and then.

He finally speaks when we clear the steep path. "Valerian, about what happened yesterday..."

My heartbeat quickens. I’d been trying not to remember it. Because thinking about it makes it real. That the Crown Prince of Silvermoor has feelings for me. How do I even begin to unpack that? How do I begin to unpack the way it makes me feel? Feelings ignored often amount to nothing, but it scares me that I can despise him and yet want him in ways that defy logic.

Because me and him cannot happen. The only way we can ever be in the same place is during this war. The King’s Court is cruel to Omegas and peasants of low standing. I have no future with the heir of a Kingdom, if I’m being realistic.

And father always did say that my greatest strength was the lens with which I viewed the world. With eyes too sharp and old for my age. With pure, unfiltered truth.

I have no place in Rafe’s life. Much less when he is betrothed.

"It’d be best if we both pretend it never happened."

Something plummets inside me, fast and hard as a rock. Anxiety strums my blood, something bitter filling my mouth. Still, I put on my best puzzled look and say casually, "What are you talking about?"

His head snaps back so fast, I’m sure it must have hurt. The horse underneath him slows in its gallop, so that he ends up sidling up beside me. "You really don’t remember?"

I blink blankly, wearing a bewildered look. "Remember what? Was it something important?"

He suddenly looks furious, his fists clenching around the railings. "He suddenly looks furious. "No. It’s nothing dire. Nothing fucking important."

My lips purse. "Why are you mad at me, then?"

His lips part on a snarl. "Now, why the fuck would you think you were important enough to rouse feelings from me? You are nothing, Valerian. A nobody."

Hateful as he sounds, I understand him wholly. Because I hate him, too, just as much as I need to feel his hands on me, with the same intimacy that he’d touched Astrea. And it makes me hate myself.

We are a reflection of each other and how it burns him deep enough to remind himself of the perceived inadequacies I have that should give him enough reasons to stay the hell away from me.

But with his outburst comes shocking clarity. The black of his pupils dilates as he smells the need rolling off me. His lips part, his body trembling. "Valerian--"

Perhaps it was the Goddess herself that drew my gaze to the darkness behind him, but I see it just in time to hurl myself across the saddle and slam into Rafe with a yell, "Get down!"

The blade clatters against the rocks, sparks bursting in the dark.

A snarl splits the night, low and guttural, and when I twist, five figures emerge from the trees. Two hulking beasts twice the size of men, claws like curved scythes, red eyes burning, fur as black as night, flank three Lycans in their half-shifted forms. Their fangs gleam under the moonlight, drool spilling as they stalk closer.

"Fuck," Rafe mutters, already unsheathing his swords. "Stay behind me."

The first Lycan lunges. A mountain of a man with red eyes that bleed red and fangs sharpened to rip my throat out.

My breath stutters. For a heartbeat, I can’t move. I’m back in the King’s chamber, feeling his lips curve on my neck. And I’m weak-kneed and stupid and can’t... move--

A strong arm pushes me out of the way and Rafe snarls as he meets the Lycan head on, steel clanging against claws. "What the fuck are you doing, Valerian? Fight!"

I grab for my sword in time to block a killing blow from a lean muscled beast with a smarmy grin. My left eye twitches in mild irritation at his display of arrogance and I want nothing more than to wipe that grin off his mouth. I twist as he swipes, the claws grazing my ribs, and drive my blade into his gut. He roars, still thrashing, too strong to go down. I wrench the blade free and slam it through his throat, hot blood coating my arm as he finally collapses.

With a hoarse, pained roar, one of those beast slam into me. I careen into the air and slam into a tree trunk. In my peripheral, I see the body of another fallen Lycan and Rafe moving with such beautiful skill, I’d gape on a normal day.

But I’m in bit of a problem. Because both of the fully formed beasts who tower a height of ten foot above me have their gazes fixed on me, deciding I’m more of a threat than Rafe is.

My sword is a steady weight in my palm, but I know it’ll be of no use with them. They’d probably snap it in two like a damned toothpick.

Still, if I could get close enough to aim right...

I let it pluck me from the ground in its large hand.

"Valerian!" Rafe, drenched in the blood of his next kill roars, charging, eyes blazing with fear and fury, but he doesn’t even make it halfway before he is backhanded by the other without half a thought. He smacks into a tree and I hear the sound of bones snapping.

I scream, thrashing between fingers that tighten as they raise me higher and higher, until I am face to face with eyes as wide as my entire head.

A voice taps into my mind as the beast cocks his head.

We know ye by blood, cunt. We recognize the fire in your hair and eyes. Ye should not have been born.

My grip tightens around the dangling sword and with a snarl, I lunge, shoving it into its left eye.

The roar of pain that shakes the forest is deafening. Its grip on me slips, but my hand remains on the sword hilt, twisting deeper. It staggers, slicing the air in an attempt to get me off but I twist smoothly like I would on a rail, forcing the sword upward.

It shrieks, stumbling and it trips on a hard branch, taking me down with it. My scream isn’t human as my knees land on its chest and I tear out the sword.

Only to begin hacking at its neck, giving it no time to heal. It’s skin is sturdy, but I am angrier. Faster, possessing a strength I shouldn’t have. My blade saws through flesh and bone, blood splattering everywhere. Over and over.

Until its head dislodges from its shoulder.

Panting, I rise, turning to find the last Lycan beast peering down at me. Its eyes gleam red. With awe. With fear. With interest.

I can’t tell. But it only stares, assessing me as it looks from my small, frail body to its felled companion.

And then, it releases a grunt and takes off into the trees in a blur of movements too fast to follow.

Silence falls.

I stagger, drenched in gore, the taste of iron thick on my tongue. My heart still hammers with that unearthly rage, and it terrifies me almost as much as it thrills.

I turn, chest heaving, and go still.

Rafe stands a few feet away, his swords hanging limp at his sides, his face pale, and his eyes... Gods, his eyes...

Not awe. Not relief. Not even gratitude.

Fear.

It is so thick, I can taste it.

"Rafe..." My voice cracks. "I--"

He takes a step back. His lips part, the words a blade that cuts deeper than any claw.

"You’re a monster."