Chapter 23

Raven

Hannah gave me a swift shove against my lower back, sending me stumbling forward onto the carpet. I tripped over my own ankles and fell to the floor in a trembling heap.

“Who is this?” a male voice barked.

My breath caught as I pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes and looked up at the man sitting in front of me.

The Lycan King hadn’t come to that dinner we’d had—he had business to attend to, apparently—but I had seen enough pictures and artist renditions of the man on the news to have a pretty good idea as to his appearance.

In person, though… he was nothing at all like the images.

Maybe it was just the massive throne he sat on, elevated on a stone dais, that made him look as enormous as he did. He looked almost too broad to fit in the ornately-carved marble seat, his muscular shoulders a far cry from what I would have expected for a man his age.

He had long, pin-straight white hair that fell around his shoulders. Rich brown eyes peered down at me from below a low-set brow. He wore a pure white fur cloak over his shoulders and a golden crown around his head with a wolf’s head, jaws open to reveal razor-sharp fangs, protruding from the front of it.

I was so terrified I couldn’t even get up. I just sat there, stunned and utterly helpless.

Hannah gave me a nudge with her boot and chuckled. “I found this one climbing out of a window. I think she’s a spy.”

The King quirked an eyebrow and studied me for a few long moments. He was clearly in no rush to speak.

Finally, he said, “What is your name?” His voice was gravelly, like iron raking across hot coals.

“S-Serena,” I managed, thankfully not too petrified to use the fake name Neil had given me. “I’m Ne—Prince Neil’s fianceé.”

“Serena, eh?” The King leaned forward and braced a muscular forearm on his knee. “I heard you were here. Where is your father, Gale? And the rest of your caravan?”

I swallowed hard, my mind whirling to come up with a response. Dammit, Neil, I thought, you should have given me more information about her!

“He’s not here. I… I rode ahead,” I finally choked out. “I was so eager to see Prince Neil that I didn’t want to wait for the rest of the caravan. I’m not sure why they’ve been held up.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to trust her, Your Highness,” Hannah growled.

I felt my stomach drop. But to my surprise, the King merely shot her a withering glare and remarked, “Remember your place, Hannah.”

At that, Hannah fell silent—although I could feel her hatred radiating off of her in waves.

The King turned to me again. “But she does have a point. Why climb out your window, Serena? If you are a guest of my son’s, then you should know you have nearly complete free roam of the castle.”

“I—”

“I told her to do it.”

Never did I imagine I would feel this way, but the sound of Neil’s voice made the air rush out of my lungs with sweet relief. I turned to see him striding quickly across the throne room, his hair billowing behind him.

He brushed past Hannah and took me by the elbow, helping me to my feet.

“There you are, my love. I was starting to get worried.”

I grit my teeth against the sudden physical reaction to those words: my love.

“Neil—” Hannah started, but the prince shot her the same withering glare as his father had—and she shut up at that, too.

Neil turned to his father. “I’m sorry, Father. I was just being playful with Serena.” He eyed Hannah dirtily. “I didn’t think that anyone would actually see.”

The King eyed us both somewhat suspiciously. “And why, Neil, did you tell your fianceé to climb out of a window?”

“I thought it would be… fun. We were supposed to sneak out and meet in the woods like star-crossed lovers.” He smirked wryly, his fingers digging a little harder into the soft flesh of my hip. “It’s a fantasy of ours.”

As Neil said those words, I felt my knees buckle a little bit more. I was suddenly grateful for his sturdy frame against me, even as I saw Hannah’s face turn as red as a tomato out of the corner of my eyes.

The King stared at us both for a moment, as if in shock, and then shook his head and waved his hand.

“I haven’t got time for this. Hannah, next time you decide to interrupt my son’s late-night escapades, at least wait until morning to bring the matter to my attention.”

With that, the King dismissed us. Or at least, I think he did; Neil whisked me away so quickly, though, I couldn’t be entirely sure.

“What in the hells was that about?” Neil’s voice echoed down our Mindlink. His arm tightened around my waist as he whisked me through the halls, passing by guards and curious servants. I stumbled alongside him, my feet barely even touching the floor at some points.

It wasn’t until we made it back to my room that I revealed what I had done. I didn’t even really need to say anything—he could plainly see the sheets and blankets tied together.

And Castor, Eric, and Ember were already there.

“There you are!” Eric hissed, storming up to me as if he was ready to slap me. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Neil roughly released his grip on me, nearly shoving me further into the room in the process. I stumbled against the bed and held onto one of the four posters to steady myself.

“I… I didn’t…” I swallowed, but it was useless against the sudden onslaught of tears threatening to spill. I glanced at Neil, who was just staring at me with his hands clenched. Not even Castor looked like he’d offer me any help, his face ashen.

“You really thought you could run?” Neil asked, taking a step closer to me. “That no one would catch you?”

“I-I don’t—”

“Even if you somehow managed to make it beyond the castle grounds,” Neil continued, “you would have run into rogues within a matter of hours. Rogues love pretty girls like you, petal. They would have taken you as a trophy.”

Ember shook her head. “That’s assuming that the snakes didn’t get to her first.” She curled her lip, revealing the pointed tips of her fangs. I had a feeling she would have liked to see the snakes get me.

By now, Neil was just a couple of steps away from me. I could see his chest heaving beneath his tunic, his fists curling and uncurling and curling again at his sides, his nostrils flaring angrily.

“I’d rather take my chances with rogues and snakes,” I somehow managed, my voice small, “than wait here to be beheaded like a pig lining up for the slaughter.”

The room fell silent. I held Neil’s gaze, my shortened nails digging into the wood of the bed. I made no attempt to hide the hot tears streaming down my cheeks, nor the terror I was pouring into my gaze.

But in his eyes… I think I saw a dash of fear sprinkled into that anger. Fear that mirrored my own, although he hid it better than I did.

“I didn’t choose to come here,” I whispered, my lips trembling with the words. “I just want to go home.”

Neil lifted his chin, but I swore I saw something soften in his eyes. “And you will,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “So long as you trust me to protect you. I don’t exactly wish for my fated mate to die, either.”

My heart stammered a little in my chest at that, but I knew what he was really implying. He’d be severely, permanently weakened if I died while we were still bound to one another. And he had a throne he was vying for, so his strength was important to him.

“Trusting around here is a bit easier said than done,” I murmured, “especially when your kind executes Werewolves for no good reason.”

Neil’s jaw set hard, eyes flashing. I must have struck yet another nerve.

But then Castor cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“I think we have all spent too much time in the castle lately. How about a drink?”