Chapter 13

Raven & Neil

Raven

“Please! Have mercy!”

The screams echoed through the forest, each more frantic and guttural than the last. I ran as fast I could toward the source of the noise, not caring if I was soaking wet in my underwear or if branches whipped at my bare skin.

Someone was in trouble. Whatever it was, I had to help.

But then I came to a skidding halt as I saw what was happening.

In the clearing up ahead, I could see…

Neil. Standing over a young man with his hands bound behind his back, his neck bent over a flat rock. Guards surrounded the clearing they stood in, several of them holding back a man and a woman who were screaming bloody murder.

And Neil…

Neil had a sword in his hands.

“Have mercy!” the woman screamed. “That’s my son! Please don’t kill my son!”

My eyes widened as I saw Neil, jaw hard, raise the sword. “Your son is a traitor who has committed treason against the Lycan King,” he said, his voice deep and cold. “It must be done.”

“No… Nooo!!”

I didn’t see the sword go through the young man’s neck—only because a pair of hands grabbed me and yanked me behind a nearby tree just before the steel connected with his flesh.

Eric gripped my shoulders and shoved me against the tree, keeping me from turning. He clapped one hand over my mouth, muffling my scream of terror. Behind him, Castor’s face was pale and Ember’s eyes were cast toward the forest floor.

“Don’t look,” Eric hissed, holding me tight. “Don’t look.”

I didn’t want to look; although there was no stopping the sound of the parents’ screams from reaching my ears.

…

Eric thrust me forward, and I fell to my hands and knees in the dirt. “Have you gone mad?” he hissed. “Trying to run away like that… Do you want your head to be the next on the chopping block?”

I felt like I might be sick—like the sounds of those screams might haunt me until the end of my days.

Neil had… He had beheaded someone. Treason, he had said. But who deserved to die for that?

I wasn’t thinking of running before, but now I wanted to run more than ever. The very thought of seeing Neil’s face made my stomach twist with dread.

“I… I was only catching fish,” I gulped, gesturing toward the two fish still lying in the grass next to the pond. “That was all.”

Eric loosed a snarl. “Likely story. You thought you could escape, couldn’t you?”

“Calm yourself, Eric. It’s true,” Castor said, picking up one of the fish by the tail and holding it up. “She’s not lying.”

Eric glanced at the fish, his shoulders relaxing—but only a little. “Still, you should never have—”

“What is going on here?”

I flinched at the sound of that voice, instinctively scrambling away. My back hit Castor’s legs, and I clutched my throat as I looked up at Neil’s broad form. He was wearing his cloak, which made him look all the more menacing.

I retched right then and there at the sight of the blood splattered across the black fur.

The three guards and Neil were silent, blinking owlishly as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“What’s wrong with her?” Neil finally asked, gesturing to me. “And why is she half naked?”

“She…” Castor lowered the fish he’d been holding and looked down at me. Sympathy flashed through his eyes, but he took a step back and averted his gaze, unable to speak.

“Someone had better tell me what is going on,” Neil growled, folding his arms across his chest. “Now.”

The guards remained silent. I shivered, too terrified of Neil to not tell him the truth.

“I saw what you did,” I whispered. “You executed someone.”

Neil was silent once more. I swallowed hard and looked away, squeezing my eyes shut. I tried to conjure up images of home: my warm bed, the gas fireplace in my living room, warmth and comfort. Anything but… this.

“That is not to be your fate, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Neil said.

I hesitantly opened my eyes to find that Neil had taken a step forward, dropping his arms back to his sides. But even looking at him now, knowing that we’d made that blood pact and that he couldn’t harm me… I still couldn’t help but shrink in terror.

…

Neil

I was surprised when Raven, in the midst of crying, suddenly wiped away her tears and asked if she could cook the fish she’d caught.

All of us were surprised, in fact.

I didn’t know if it was just a coping mechanism or if she truly bounced back so quickly, but after some thought, I figured it would be better for everyone if she just got her way. She had just witnessed an execution, after all; it was enough to haunt someone like her for a long time to come.

That night, we sat around a small campfire in the woods and ate the roasted fish. Raven had picked some herbs in the forest, which now mingled with the scent of fish wafting into the air, and Ember had slipped off to the kitchens and returned with utensils and a few bottles of wine.

Raven took one bottle entirely for herself, which I knew would impact her training in the morning. But no one stopped her.

“You caught these yourself?” Eric asked as Raven handed out the plates of fragrant food.

“My dad taught me how to catch fish with your hands as a kid,” she said quietly. “It’s not hard.”

She hesitated before handing me my plate, her eyes not meeting mine. I took it and watched as she walked away, noticing the stiffness in her shoulders.

“She’s afraid of you,” my wolf hissed.

I stared down at my plate in silence. Of course she was afraid. Werewolves didn’t understand our ways. If she saw us as barbarians before, then she must have thought of us as complete savages by now.

For a few moments, the clearing was silent save for the crackling of the fire and the scraping of utensils.

“Wow… This is delicious!” Castor finally exclaimed. “You really are a wonderful cook!”

“Hm…” Eric chewed his food slowly, his cheeks turning slightly pink at the flavor. “Not bad…”

Even Ember’s eyes lit up as she tasted hers—and she scarfed almost all of it down in a matter of moments, although she said nothing.

All eyes turned to me then, and I realized I hadn’t touched my food. I speared a piece of fish onto my fork and popped it onto my tongue, my mouth instantly watering in response to the flavor.

“I…” I set my fork down and took a deep breath. “This is good.”

“That means that he thinks it’s the best damn thing he’s ever tasted,” Castor laughed, his cheeks and nose flushed from the wine.

Even Eric grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the Lycan prince call anything ‘good’.”

It was hard to quell the tiny smirk that tugged at the corners of my lips. I glanced up at Raven, wondering if she would crack a smile, too. She did have a nice smile, I had to admit.

But she just took another swig of her wine and dug into her fish without meeting my gaze.

“I should go to bed,” I said abruptly, standing. “See to it that she gets to her room in a timely manner. We have a long day tomorrow.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and left.

Castor caught up with me before I reached the castle. “She didn’t mean anything by it, Neil.”

“She’s acting like I hit her.”

“She’s a Werewolf. They don’t execute traitors,” he explained. “But she’s doing her best to fit in.”

I stopped in my tracks, considering. I knew that, of course; I knew how strange and old-fashioned our ways seemed to them.

Castor leaned forward. “She will come around to you again. Once she processes what she saw.”

I grit my teeth. “I don’t care if she comes around or not. I just need her to fulfill our contract.”

“Liar,” my wolf retorted. “You do care…”

Quickly shoving my wolf down, I picked up my pace again. A breeze ruffled the black fur on my cloak, and with it came the faint scent of old blood from the execution.

“The King heard of her presence and wants to hold a dinner tomorrow,” I called over my shoulder. “See to it that she has a suitable gown and a gift prepared.”

My friend’s sigh wasn’t lost on me.

“Very well, my prince.”