Plan to escape
Selene POV
I barely slept.
The air was so cold it bit at my skin, yet I still woke drenched in sweat. My dreams were fire and blood—wolves howling under a crimson moon, the sting of steel biting into my throat. And then I was there, standing in the place my dream had shown me.
When I jolted awake, the mark on my shoulder burned.
Dawn crept in like a pale stain through the cracks of the barred window. The door slammed open.
“Wake up, witch,” Dric barked.
He yanked me upright by the collar of my tunic, his grip digging into my skin. My feet dangled off the ground before he dropped me, satisfied with my gasp of pain.
He dragged me into the corridor like a dog on a rope. Slaves passed like shadows, their heads bowed, their mouths shut. Not one of them met my eyes.
I wanted to beg for help, but I knew better. No one would take pity on me.
Halfway down the hall, a figure blocked our path. A tall man in deep crimson robes trimmed with gold. I recognized him even before I dared look up.
High Priest Eleazar.
The High King’s viper priest. I’d only seen him from a distance during the ceremonies, but now his gaze locked on me.
“This is the offering,” he murmured, almost to himself. His voice was smooth as silk, cold as the grave.
My mouth stayed shut. There was nothing to say.
He stepped closer. The scent of clove oil and dried grass clung to him. His hand reached out, tugging my dress from my shoulder. Two fingers traced the mark beneath the fabric.
“The gods will have their due,” he whispered. “And so will I.”
Then he turned, disappearing into the shadows.
A chill lodged deep in my chest.
Dric shoved me into a stone chamber. “Go to work, cursed girl.”
The words stung more than the shove. I dropped to my knees, scrubbing the cold floor until my arms ached. My skin was pale, my muscles trembling, but I forced my mind elsewhere. The Wolf Moon was coming. I could feel it in the wind.
It was happening again.
A faint scuff behind me made me tense—until a low, urgent voice spoke my name.
“Selene.”
I spun to see Luke in the doorway, eyes clouded with worry.
“Why are you here?” I whispered.
“You need to get ready,” he said, stepping closer. “I heard them, Selene. The priests. They’re preparing the Blood Rite.” His voice shook. “They’ll offer you up the night the Wolf Moon reaches its peak.”
My jaw tightened. My stomach twisted. “I know.”
His brows knit. “How?”
“I dreamed it,” I said quietly.
He knelt beside me. “There’s worse. The highborn want it done the old way—before the gods, the king, the entire court. I heard a guard say they believe your blood will save the kingdom.”
I swallowed. Fear should have taken me. But what I felt instead was anger.
They wanted my blood? Then I would give it—if only to make my life mean something.
“I’m ready, Luke,” I said. “If my blood is what’s needed, then I’ll give it.”
His eyes widened. “Are you insane?”
I shook my head. “I can’t stop them. At least this way, I’ll be of some use to this world.”
He hesitated, then his jaw set. “Don’t do this. I’ll help you escape. As much as I can.”
He pressed something into my hand—a small, rusty shard of metal. A crude knife.
“I’ll leave food in the old warehouse, behind the east stables,” he whispered. “Tomorrow night. Be ready.”
I hid the shard in my skirt. “Luke…”
He gave me a quick, tight smile, then slipped away.
When he was gone, I stood, my body aching as if my dream had left bruises behind. I headed for the kitchen to snatch breakfast before work began.
The sun was high, gold burning against my eyes. Luke’s words clung to me like burrs. Escape.
Somewhere deep inside, something darker stirred. The monster in my blood—the thing I’d spent my life fearing—wanted to break free on the appointed night.
And in my mind, it whispered: They can’t have me.
The mark on my shoulder throbbed in answer.