23
Thankfully, Calix doesn’t turn me in, going so far as to scrub Evie’s room clean with Oona so that Evie doesn’t discover my subterfuge.
But Oona, with her lovely brown eyes so close in color to Celeste’s, isn’t prepared to remain silent about my terrible attempt at espionage. After dinner the next night, she throws a leather-bound notebook onto the ground where my pillows and blankets form a mound of minor comfort.
“If you’re going to run amok in this castle, at least be clever about it.” Gentler, she places a peacock quill and jar of purple ink beside the journal.
Standing in front of the mirror, trying desperately to take off the hideous, dandelion-yellow gown she brought me earlier, I glance between her and her gift. “What’s that for?”
“Oh, I wonder. Could it be that you were caught snooping around Evelyn Lee’s room? I spent an hour cleaning up her floor with Lord Severi, and you’re lucky we didn’t all get caught—”
“I know,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry. I haven’t… I haven’t been very careful.”
“Girl, you might be the most indelicate creature I’ve ever seen.
Stumbling around, causing trouble… You’re going to get yourself killed.
” She juts a finger at the notebook. “If you’re so keen on investigating, maybe try taking notes first. Learn about— understand —this court.
Perhaps slow down on the outright treason. ”
Treason. Hearing the word causes my heart to stutter. I turn, smoothing the misshapen lumps of the tragic dress with sweaty palms. “Did Anthony say anything to anyone? I saw him in the hall just before I went inside.”
She narrows her eyes. “You are so lucky to be alive.”
“Yes or no would suffice, Oona.”
She huffs and approaches, pulling pins from my hair without a care for my grunts and groans of pain.
I originally let her twist it into an elaborate braid because I thought it would bring her some modicum of joy, but she hasn’t spoken to me since yesterday.
Not beyond a few grunts and murmurs. Until now.
“What would suffice is you not tempting divinity on the daily. No, Anthony did not speak a word of your encounter.” She huffs again.
“You make my job very difficult, Vanessa. Very difficult indeed.”
“You’re not the first to say that.”
You’re a threat, Vanessa, and my job is to dispose of threats.
I shake off Calix’s words, but it’s the wrong moment. A pin gets lodged in a knot, and Oona ruthlessly rips both from my scalp. “Then you might do well to listen,” she snaps. “I cannot protect you forever.”
Not the first I’ve heard that either. I sigh, thinking of Sin. “Why are you protecting me at all?”
“I already told you.” She sniffs, freeing my hair before running her fingers through it. Brown and purple locks spring into wavy tendrils. “There. This is why I offer to braid your hair.”
I twirl a wave of purple around my finger, and the hole in my heart that misses Celeste grows two sizes bigger.
She loved my hair curly too. She said it made me look witchy and wild.
I breathe through the sudden torrent of grief.
Moments like these are the worst, the little daily reminders of Celeste.
Of what we shared. Of what I lost. It almost feels like waking from a dream and reaching for invisible memories that never existed at all.
I have started to forget the sound of her voice. I have started to forget so much.
“Thank you,” I murmur quietly.
Oona nods, her gaze softening as if she can scent my sadness. “Now, about that dress—”
I glance down at myself. “It… wasn’t exactly my best look.”
“Dearie, I think we can say for certain that it is, in fact, your worst look.” She gestures behind us with a flick of her wrist. “I brought you others, however. You may wear them at your discretion, or you can appear as a wilting daisy forever. It’s your choice, though we’ve reached a time when you really need to make your choices count. ”
“New dresses?” I ask, making my way to the ornate, gothic wardrobe. Bigger than the last, roses twine up the edges, while moons shimmer, shifting from phase to phase with bright white light along the handles. But when I open the double doors, I don’t see new dresses. I see old ones.
Red ones.
My stomach churns. I slam the doors shut.
“The Wolf Queen is stubborn. She will not commission new gowns because these are the ones her Weavers made for you at her behest.” Oona tucks her orange hair behind her ears, holding the pieces in place with my pins.
“You have been here for long enough, Vanessa.” She points to the journal.
“You must decide whether you will cooperate or flee.”
I laugh, the sound as hollow as I feel. “But I can’t leave.”
“You can,” Oona says, “but it will end in misery and death. So too will your time here, however, if you do not adapt. But there is another path you have yet to contemplate—because,” she adds, “if nothing else, you are a stubborn girl.”
Leaning against the wardrobe, I cross my arms and say, “So? What is this magical, miracle path?”
She points a pin at me. “You cooperate, Vanessa Hart. You wear the Wolf Queen’s dresses; you participate in your classes. You learn. You become better. Faster. Stronger.”
I throw my hands in the air. “As if I’m not trying .”
“You are not trying. You are scheming and thieving.”
Footsteps creep down the hall, and I glance at them. Oona reacts faster. She races to my side and presses a finger to my lips. We wait for the noise to subside, my heart in my throat while her pulse beats hard and fast in my ears.
When the footsteps are gone, she takes my hand and says, “How much do you know of the Ascension Rite?”
“Not much—the instructors have been so busy explaining the basics, they haven’t really covered the rite yet.”
Her eyes flutter closed, and she heaves out a great sigh. “Sit, girl. On your bed.” I don’t argue. Not with Oona, when she’s my greatest friend in this court.
“The Ascension Rite occurs every decade within the nobility of the Seven Courts. The teenage werewolves train and learn together, and though the host location changes with each rite, the nobility’s packs are chosen for the entirety of our world.
Sometimes, multiple princes and/or princesses begin alliances across continents.
It’s rare, but some Ascension Rites have even seen four or five future Wolf Regents choosing their immediate packs.
“Prince Sinclair won’t simply choose his own at random; he will hand select them.
His First General. His mate—our future queen.
Then he and Evie will choose three or four others, depending on what they envision for their inner circle.
From the moment the Ascension is completed, his pack is formed, and the members’ souls will entangle for eternity.
They will continue to train and learn and grow together until they become a unit stronger than any other. ”
I shake my head in confusion, wishing I were holding that journal so I could take notes. “What… what happens if someone isn’t picked?”
What’s going to happen to me?
“Royals form their own packs—Eric Lee is expected to take over for the King and Queen of the Asian Court—while others might instead assume the roles bestowed onto them by their parents. They won’t choose packs during the Ascension.
They will simply swear their allegiance to the Seven Courts and come into their full power, then step aside.
By giving them less time with their future pack, their strength is contained and thus below the regents’, as the Seven Courts’ hierarchy dictates.
The regents must remain strongest of all.
But others… They may step down from their ranking and descend to a lower position if they wish.
Portia Montgomery has been very vocal since her girlhood that she wishes to be a Delta, and if the princes and princess don’t choose her for their respective packs—their inner circles, if you will—she could very well move home and join a lesser pack that has already formed. ”
My brows furrow. “Why?”
“The pressure and violence of a high-ranking position is not for everyone.”
Well, that’s true. But—“What about me?”
“Prince Sinclair Severi could pick you. The queen certainly expects him to. You are special, Vanessa, and no one quite knows what your power entails. Even the Oracle hasn’t been able to conjure a true guess.
But you are a fool if you believe that absolves you from this court’s social niceties.
A social pariah failing her lessons, unable to make more than one friend or even control her own emotions.
You’re reckless. You’re a liability. The prince cannot allow that into his inner circle—even for a wolf with purple eyes. ”
A wolf with purple eyes.
The words altogether strike a match inside my chest, until my every organ feels aflame, and I—I can’t breathe.
Social pariah. Reckless. Liability. They’re bad enough.
I am bad enough without also being… something else.
Something I don’t understand. And no matter how many books I read, or how many times I ask Instructor Alvarez if purple eyes have been recorded anywhere in the history of werewolves, there are no answers.
I am still a mystery. But I push it down. I have to.
It doesn’t matter what color my eyes are if they are worn by a corpse.
“If no one chooses me—”
“Yes,” she says, confirming my every fear.
“You will become a Lone Wolf. If you cannot help the queen and her court, she will make certain you are cast out. She will not let an unknown power slip into anyone else’s hands.
You must be chosen. If not by the prince, then by Eric when his parents are present and here to protect you. ”
“Eric will never pick me. He hates me. His sister wants me dead.”
“I know.” Oona cups my cheeks, her brown eyes warm and kind and everything I don’t deserve in this moment. “I know.”
Sin, then.
Sin is my only option.