11 #2
“I was trying to get the party under control,” he says.
“My title—Sinclair Severi, Crown Prince of the Wolf Queen’s Court—isn’t just for show.
There are duties to which I’m sworn. You and your friend shattered the temperament of the beach before you ran off.
Humans were fighting us, threatening to make us shift.
Some of the werewolves ran off to protect themselves, but the others…
We’ve never been gifted patience. Restraint is nearly impossible once you succumb to your emotions—something I’m certain you’re now familiar with.
” He cocks a brow, but I don’t respond. I don’t want to acknowledge that he’s right.
“I needed to ensure those who remained weren’t going to do anything stupid. ”
I snort, the sound far breathier and more afraid than I intended. “You mean stupid like murder? Like what happened to my friend ?”
He approaches a narrow staircase, but instead of climbing it, he sets me on the step above him.
My legs tremble, so embarrassingly frail, but he ropes an arm around my waist with a sigh.
“I am sorry for her murder. I am sorry for your fate. But there is nothing to do about either. You belong to this court now—”
“Fuck… fuck that! And fuck you!” I can’t stop my voice from rising or my blood pressure from following. “Her murder wasn’t some freak accident. One of you killed her.”
“ I did not,” he growls. He pushes me farther into the wall.
Traps me. “For the last fucking time, I did not kill your friend. Whatever you hope to accomplish here, think again. You walk one step through this castle with your claws out, you’re as good as dead.
” He picks up my wrist, showing the claws that have painfully sprouted from only three of my fingers.
“Believe me, or don’t. But at least have enough foresight to not walk straight into a noose. ”
I yank away my hand, hiding it behind my back. Willing those claws to vanish. One does—and it might as well be a knife sliding into my finger bone. I swallow a scream. “I… I thought the courts were united.”
“This court and the six others protect the loyal and the strong. Right now, you are neither.”
I glower at him, nostrils flaring, wishing I had the strength to step around him. Past him. “Then maybe I’ll leave.”
He moves into my path with controlled ease. An arm still guards my waist, hovering just over my skin as though he’s preparing for my imminent collapse. “You’re barely conscious.”
“I—I haven’t fallen yet.” I jab his chest with one of my normal nails. “If this court is as vicious as you make it out to be, then let me go .”
He presses a fist into the wall, blocking my way with a long, muscular arm. “You can’t.”
“Because of the pact?”
“The pact was magical and binding—but no. It was a way of placating my mother until the rite finishes. She wanted to be assured of your loyalty. No matter what, every werewolf who finishes their First Rite belongs to a Wolf Court. And you… you will belong to my mother’s.
With your purple eyes, with your unknown abilities, she won’t allow you to leave. Ever.”
My eyelids flutter shut, as if I can stop the condemnation in its tracks. Purple eyes. Untested potential. Unknown abilities. “What am I?” I whisper hoarsely.
“You are a werewolf.” Sin exhales, and a small whiff of candied spearmint sweeps over me. I hate that I can discern it. That I can almost taste it—him—from scent alone. “You are a werewolf who belongs to my mother now.”
My chest flushes pink beneath the tapestry’s cover, and I open my eyes. “I can’t stay—”
“Abandoning the court means becoming a Lone Wolf, Vanessa.” My name falls from his lips softly, a plea.
“Lone Wolves die. We draw our strength from our court first, then our packs. The longer we remain in our packs, learning to fight and exist alongside one another, the stronger we grow. But if we were to leave…” He pauses. Flinches as if he’s in pain.
“Bits of our soul fall behind,” he finishes finally, “and stay with the pack and court. The longer we go on without either, the more we stray from ourselves. Most Lone Wolves turn bloodthirsty and rabid. They search for anything to fill that hole inside them. But when they can’t…
” He glances at me. Pain further tightens in his gaze.
“They devour themselves. A Lone Wolf never needs to be hunted. They finish the job themselves every single time.”
Oh.
I swallow roughly and sag against the wall. He touches me then, making sure I’m not going to collapse. But… I don’t feel weak. Color washes from my face. Hair lifts on the nape of my neck. I feel terrified .
“There is no leaving, Vanessa,” he says sadly.
I can’t look at him. Can’t look anywhere but at the ground. “I want to rest. Please.”
He nods once, lifting me back into his arms and climbing the stairs two by two until we’re in front of a standard wooden door with a bronze knob. He opens the door smoothly and deposits me on a maroon rug. At least this room isn’t so sterile as my last.
A large bed—carved of a tree and left so unpolished that it literally looks like branches—grows from the center of the floor.
More wisteria and ivy blanket the walls and grow over open wardrobes, drawers, and vanities.
Everything is stocked. Dresses, gowns, underwear, makeup.
As if they knew I wouldn’t die. As if they’ve been waiting for this.
“It isn’t totally awful here,” he offers in the doorway.
“We have books just like you do. We can listen to music. Electronics don’t typically work within the castle, but we leave enough that we always have entertainment.
We just keep to our Superior traditions.
” He pauses, smiles. “Narnia was always one of my favorites,” he says, and then he leaves.
Only when his footsteps fade and the door closes do I collapse.
The rug might as well be a pool of Celeste’s blood, but I can’t move from it.
I stare wordlessly at a stained-glass window depicting two snakes strangling a rose.
Light rises behind it, spilling over the room. Over my immaculately pale skin.
There is no leaving.
Welcome to the Wolf Queen’s Court.
What the hell have I done? Have I become?
A floor-length mirror shows the reflection of an inhumanly beautiful girl with violet eyes and ashen hair with streaks of purple so rich, they could be velvet ribbons lying on the floor.
She squints as if she should be crying, but no tears pour out.
She’s wrong. Broken. And I hate her for it—for all of it. But I can’t look away. I can’t leave.
The tapestry hides the rest of me, and I’m thankful. I don’t want to see what bruises remain—or what bruises have vanished with the change. I stay there like that for hours, unmoving. Unblinking. Replaying every conversation in my head until the most important thing starts to make sense.
Not the werewolves. Not the court.
Celeste.
Sin said that some of the wolves stayed and fought on the beach.
But others left. Others ran . Which means one of them has to be the culprit.
That girl… Evie … She could have killed Celeste.
Another bit me and ruined my life. Both were wolves with red eyes.
The knowledge of this should make me weep and shudder, but I smile.
If Sin is in charge of them, it means they belong to this court. Nobility, probably, just as the queen said. I’m going to see them eventually. I’m going to figure this out.