Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“Chin up, love.” Zyran looks over his shoulder at me as we walk down the huge hallways of the Crone Palace, where flames flicker and burn in warning.
I hate this place. My fear of fire is only made worse by the palace that worships it.
Last time I was here, I was not a princess—I was a human prisoner, and getting hanged was probably the quickest way out for me.
The least painful…ish. But oh no, life was never going to let me go that easily.
I was destined to be one of many going into the Folkland, a place I never thought I would survive.
My hand covers the triple goddess mark on my chest, hiding under my tight black top that clings to my body.
I didn’t think there was a chance I’d survive, and I was certain I was going to get eaten by a wolf.
But Tannith believed…and now, so do I. I have to believe in myself for her, because she would demand it of me.
She never gave up, and even if I want to, I can’t because I lived and she didn’t.
“You’re thinking of Tannith. Do you want to share? ”
I don’t know how Zyran does it, how he so easily reads my mind from just my expression. “She would be making jokes right about now, and she would be excited.” I look up at him. “I’m so angry I can’t think straight, Zy.”
He steps back to my side, his eyes still flickering around the palace we have been invited to.
The invitation was given on the first night after we took the human district, and they only gave us a day to make it here.
It wasn’t much time to prepare, but the invite wasn’t unexpected.
The invite was for a meeting with all the alphas, something I don’t think has happened often, and they apparently have asked the priests of the goddesses to look over the meeting in good faith so that no aggression comes out of a tense meeting.
Unlucky for them. I don’t really care too much about the priests or the goddesses they worship, and I cannot control my anger when I see him.
The bastard who cursed my friend and made sure she would never be free is going to be there.
The Crone alpha. My hands shake at the thought. I nearly jump when Zyran’s hand finds mine, his fingers entwining. He stands at my side, always. “Remember why we’re here,” Zyran murmurs, well aware that many ears will be listening and just as many eyes following us around this palace of snakes.
I glance at the walls, seeing the shadows move and twitch almost imperceptibly, knowing that two guards Zyran chose are hiding within them and here if we need help.
Illyia’s boots click on the tiles, the high heels of them far louder than mine as she walks behind us.
Illyia asked to come, and I didn’t see a point in saying no.
We could use all the help we can get when facing these monsters.
I glance over my shoulder at her, and she nods at me.
I never in a million years would have thought Illyia would be at my side, but she is, and I’m grateful.
She’s chosen all black, even though the colour is outside of her usual bright reds and oranges.
Her red hair is pinned back, but I’ve chosen to let mine fall naturally, with only a braid-like crown over the top of my head to keep it out of my eyes.
Both of us chose not to wear dresses. The clothes from Void City that were given to me fit her too, and they are nice to wear.
They’re soft somehow, easy to move in, but the material is strong, fireproof, and Zyran told us both that it would be difficult for a blade to cut through.
The only bit of colour on any of us is on Zyran himself, with the red lace between his tartan that moves around his legs as he stomps forward at my side.
Rows of guards—a dozen of them—standing in front of the doors move swiftly to the side in formation as we walk up.
Their red armour glitters in the firelight from the lanterns hanging, swaying side to side.
Two of them open the doors for us, and I suck in a breath, reminding myself what I’m going to see on the other side.
Zyran loosens his grip, giving me the chance to let go if I want to do this alone, but also the offer that he is there. I tighten my grip in his.
Not because I need support against the alphas.
They are going to be there.
The heirs who lied and used me. The heirs who make my heart beat and made me want more than I ever should have wanted.
They made me want, and the cost was my best friend.
Blackfire, Reed, and Orion—seeing them is going to be a punch in the gut, and I know it.
I can sense them in there. Almost as if a part of me is aware of them since the Folkland ended—maybe even before that.
That sense has been beating harder and harder in my chest like a drum, and now it cannot be ignored.
I focus on something else—anything else. My plan is simple for the heirs…I will give them no attention. They definitely don’t deserve it. I step an inch closer to Zyran as the doors grind open, scratching across the stone floor, and we walk in.
The circular room is strange. We walk out onto a pillared platform, and around the room are three other pillared platforms that almost look like they are designed to view whatever is in the sloped dome below us.
In the centre, as I look down first, are priests on their knees, their white cloaks with silver birds glittering in the sunlight that pours in from the glass windows above us all.
They are humming a song of the goddesses under their breath, and the soft sound echoes against the sound of the door being pulled closed behind us.
I briefly look at each of the platforms and face my enemies for the first time.
The platform to my left bears a symbol for the Maiden Pack, and standing on it must be the Maiden alpha female in front of the other royals of her court.
She is the leader, and she wears a striking blue tiara.
She looks like Reed—not that I’d expect otherwise—and she’s intensely beautiful.
The Maiden alpha female almost appears my age, somehow, but her eyes are aged and give away that she isn’t so young.
Her long, light blonde hair is held in several braids, silver tassels woven between them, glinting in the light.
Blue tattoos, markings perhaps, run all down her arms, and she wears a simple blue dress to show them off.
At her side is a man just as impressively striking, with a full blond, almost-white beard and short white hair.
He is wearing a deep blue cloak covered in symbols of water.
A metal breastplate lies across his muscular chest, and he is wearing light trousers; the metal matches the sea-blue crown in his hair. The alpha.
Next to him is a man who could almost be his double, with a light blue crown in his hair that matches his parents’, but it is smaller than the other two.
I would suspect he is the heir. I knew Reed had brothers, but I wasn’t sure what to expect of the oldest. He has the strongest resemblance to his father, with a blond beard and near-white hair, but his hair is long, tied at the nape of his neck.
No silver or blue markings on his arms like his parents’.
His eyes fix on me, and there isn’t an ounce of warmth that I always saw in his brother’s eyes.
Next to him is the water prince I trusted.
His eyes are dark sea-blue and locked on mine, but I turn away, refusing to look at him for more than a second.
Just a second sends an equal amount of pain and longing through my traitor heart. Dammit. Why can’t I be heartless and feel nothing? Those people have it easy.
Next, I focus on the platform in front of me, even if I know two of them well.
The Crone alpha and his nephew. Blackfire takes up all the space as if it were made only for him, and he is leaning on the platform’s raised edge, staring at me with shameless intensity.
But I refuse to meet his gaze as I turn swiftly.
The cruel alpha I met down in the dungeon only nods his head, amusement in his eyes.
Vargoth. He looks just as he did before.
Just as weaselly, just as thin and tall, with glowing red eyes and hair.
Next to him is a woman who has apparently forgotten her clothing, because I can definitely see her boobs, nipples and all, and so can everybody else in the room.
Two thin strands of red fabric go down the middle of her chest to her waist where a flowy red skirt streams out, her long red hair falling almost to the floor, and the skirt has so many slits in it that I’m sure she would flash other things if she moved too fast. The alpha female, I presume.
There is no one else on their balcony.
I turn to the final one, an earth symbol for the Mother Pack etched into the stone in front of it.
There are two people there. A woman who could give Orion a run for his money in sternness—her face so still she could be stone and her lips pulled into a thin line.
Her eyes are a shade darker than Orion’s green ones, but it’s clear who she is anyway.
She watches me and doesn’t react when I stare back.
Her black hair is pulled up into a bun with several braids wrapped around it and vines woven within her hair too.
Her dress is the darkest green, but not an inch of her skin from the neck down shows.
Even with the beautiful material, something about her screams that she is not to be trusted.
Orion, of course, is at her side. I see him lean forward before I flick my eyes away from the heir.