Chapter 3
Adelaide
The rough hands that dragged us from the horses belonged to a stern-faced woman whose cold gray eyes held the efficient cruelty of someone who had served werewolf nobility for decades.
"I am Elena, head of household staff," she announced, her voice carrying the weight of absolute command. "You will follow my instructions precisely, or you will not survive your first night in Lycandor Keep."
Elena led us through corridors lined with portraits of fierce werewolf warriors, their painted eyes following our progress with unsettling intensity. The sound of our footsteps echoed off vaulted ceilings, mixing with the distant howls that penetrated even these thick walls.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Elena's laugh held no warmth. "To be prepared for your true purpose here, little lamb."
We descended a spiral staircase, the temperature dropping with each step until I could see my breath misting in the cold air. At the bottom, Elena pushed open heavy wooden doors to reveal a spacious bathing chamber.
"Strip," Elena commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Both of you. You reek of the road and human weakness."
When I hesitated, she gestured to two burly guards who had followed us down. "You may remove your clothes willingly, or they will do it for you. The choice is yours."
With trembling fingers, Thalia and I began to undress. The guards watched with obvious interest, their yellow eyes gleaming in the torchlight. I forced myself to remain calm, to project the dignity of the princess I was even as I stood naked and vulnerable before our captors.
Elena studied us with the clinical detachment of someone evaluating livestock. "Into the water. You will be thoroughly cleaned."
The water was almost scalding, and I gasped as it closed over my shoulders. Female servants appeared from the shadows, scrubbing us with rough cloths and harsh soap that burned my skin.
"Tell me," I said carefully as they worked, "what manner of service will be required of us?"
Elena's expression never changed. "You will serve as blood slaves to the beast—the great King Lycanthar who has lost all reason to the wild. He knows nothing now but blood thirst and the drive to mate. You will provide for both appetites."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Thalia's face went white as the marble beneath our feet, and I saw her hand move instinctively to her throat.
"No," I said firmly, rising from the water despite the guards' sudden alertness. "I will not accept such a fate. I would rather die."
Elena's cold smile was like winter frost. "Resistance will only bring you pain. Compliance may earn you small mercies." From her belt, she withdrew a small crystal vial filled with pale green liquid. "This will ease your transition into your new life."
"I won't—" I began, but Elena had already unstoppered the vial. A sweet, cloying scent filled the air, making my head swim instantly.
"Hold them," she commanded.
The guards seized us with inhuman strength. I struggled desperately as Elena forced the vial to my lips, the liquid burning my throat as I was compelled to swallow. Beside me, Thalia received the same treatment, her eyes wide with terror as the substance took effect.
The world began to spin around me. My limbs grew heavy, and darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. The last thing I heard was Elena's voice, distant and distorted: "When you wake, your real education will begin."
Cold.
The sensation invaded my consciousness like knives of ice, dragging me from drugged oblivion into a reality far worse than any nightmare. My body felt leaden, every muscle aching as if I had been beaten. The air around me carried scents that made my stomach turn—blood, musk, and something wildly animal that spoke to the most primitive parts of my brain.
I lay on rough stone, naked and shivering, in absolute darkness. When I tried to move, my limbs felt foreign and unsteady. Panic clawed at my chest as memories flooded back—Elena, the vial, the horrible truth about our fate.
"Thalia?" I whispered, my voice barely audible in the oppressive silence.
My questing hand found warm flesh beside me, and relief flooded through me as I felt the steady rise and fall of breathing. I shook her gently, then more urgently when she didn't respond.
"Thalia, wake up. Please."
Her eyes fluttered open, reflecting what little light existed in this place. For a moment, she stared at me in confusion, then awareness crashed back and she sat up abruptly, modesty forgotten in the face of our circumstances.
"Where are we?" she asked, her voice raw and frightened.
Before I could answer, a sound echoed through the chamber that froze my blood in my veins. It was neither fully human nor wholly animal—a low, rumbling growl that spoke of intelligence corrupted by bestial hunger. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating off stone walls I couldn't see.
"Oh, Moon Goddess," Thalia breathed, and I knew she understood as clearly as I did.
We were in the same chamber as the beast.
I pulled Thalia close, both of us straining to pierce the darkness around us. The growling continued, sometimes near, sometimes distant, but always present—a constant reminder that we shared this space with something that had once been the greatest king in werewolf history.
Then I saw them—two points of red light gleaming in the blackness, moving with predatory grace as they approached. The beast was enormous, its shoulder easily reaching my head even when it moved on all fours. Silver-white fur covered its massive frame, and when it drew closer, I could make out the individual muscles rippling beneath that magnificent coat.
This was Lycanthar—or what remained of him.
The beast moved toward Thalia first, its great head lowering to study her with those burning crimson eyes. She remained perfectly still as one massive paw reached out, claws extended, to touch her bare shoulder, as if examining some exotic prey.
But then its attention shifted to me, and everything changed.
The beast's head turned in my direction, and I watched those red eyes narrow as it drew in my scent. A sound emerged from its throat—not quite a growl, but something that spoke of recognition struggling against the haze of bestial madness.
I stared into those burning red eyes, and I felt something fundamental shifting inside me—something that had slept my entire life suddenly stirring to wakefulness. Heat bloomed low in my belly, spreading through my limbs like liquid fire.
Adelaide, my bride...
My breathing became rapid, and my rational mind screamed at me to flee, but my body betrayed me. A shiver not entirely born of fear, but of an unfamiliar, primal desire, made my body involuntarily arch slightly towards the beast.
What is happening to me?
I could feel something stirring deep within me, an ancient power that had lain dormant my entire life now clawing its way to the surface. The concealment spell Thalia's father had woven around the mark began to crack and fracture, magical threads unraveling as whatever was awakening inside me proved stronger than his careful enchantments.
Heat radiated outward from the mark, spreading across my skin in waves that made me gasp and arch involuntarily. Through the haze of sensation, I heard that ancient voice again, clearer now:
My bride. You have finally come to me.
But this time, I knew with terrifying certainty that the voice was not coming from the beast.
It was coming from within me.
And as the beast's crimson eyes held mine, as my treacherous flesh ached for his touch, I realized the most horrifying truth of all:
There was no escape—not from him, and not from what I was becoming.