Chapter 2
Chapter Two
This stranger, who doesn’t feel like a stranger at all, steps forward, reaching for me. Zyran moves like a shadow, stepping in front of me. “She doesn’t know you.”
“Who are you?” I slip around Zyran, leaving my hand on his arm.
The stranger ignores Zyran altogether. It’s almost impressive, or foolish, considering how imposing and scary my monster can be.
“I suspected, if there was even a chance that you were alive after everything that happened in the Crone Pack, that your memories were gone. Why else would you not reach out or come home? I suspected maybe the alphas had taken you, that they were going to use you against us, but they never did. It made everything more confusing when I told people I felt like you were alive. That oblivion told me you would come home.” He looks at me steadily.
“They said I was mad. What do you remember of me? Of your family?”
My heart is beating so fast in my chest as I stare at him and hold his stare.
“Sometimes I have a bad dream, and I’ve never known whether it’s a memory or not, whether it’s just something—” I clear my throat.
“I was in a room and there was a woman crying, people holding me down, cutting into my stomach.” I look down, as if I can still see the marks on my stomach, but I know I can’t anymore.
The burns have smothered them, warping them into something else.
“I was just a child, with brutal scars and no memory. Not unusual in the human district where I grew up.”
He pulls his shirt up, showing me his stomach.
Across the ripples of muscle is a mark just like mine used to be—a circle, two moons, an arrow pointed right between them.
His is old and faded. “Every royal child of Oblivion has this mark. It’s given to us when our powers come in as a child…
That’s what went wrong the night we lost you. ”
Zyran touches my hand still resting on his arm. “He isn’t lying, even if his face looks like someone who would.”
The man claiming to be my brother steps forward again, and Zyran growls lightly.
My brother’s gold eyes turn to him, glowing darker.
Do mine do that now? “Zyran Nightward, I would welcome you back, but the last time we spoke, my father banished you. Did you think finding her would excuse your actions? Nothing would. You should leave, alive, and take that as a thank-you for bringing my sister home.”
“I will never leave her side.” Zyran’s tone is final. “Bringing her home is in Meredith’s best interest, and it has nothing to do with you. Try to make me leave her. See what happens, old friend.”
Arrogance drips off Zyran’s threat, and there must be something wrong with me, because I like it. Hell, there is something wrong with me, but fuck it.
“Did you manipulate her into freeing you?” he snarls back. “She clearly doesn’t know our ways and what it meant to bind you to her!”
“As you will find out soon enough, not many people can manipulate your sister and get to stand at her side when all is said and done.” Zyran crosses his thick arms.
“Is Meredith my real name?” I turn to my brother. I don’t know what his beef is with Zyran, but I can’t find it in me to care right now when I’m so close to so many answers about my past.
“Yes.” My brother’s voice softens when he looks at me, his eyes losing the glow and fading into a dark shade of gold.
His eyes are darker than mine. “You are Princess Meredith Duskmore—second-born heir to the throne. Princess of Fallenstar, as that was the day you were born. You are twenty years old, turning twenty-one this year.” Shivers burst out across my skin, and I rub my arms. Damn, it’s true. At least I know my birthday now.
“You’re saying I’m a princess.” I almost laugh. Princess? Me? Seems unlikely, but then again, my life has been one hell of a shitshow since I stabbed a wolf’s foot with a knife. It’s still weird that that moment was a turning point in my life.
“You are.” His voice is firm. “And as I am not yet married nor do I have a child, you are my heir.” He turns back to Zyran. “You need to leave. She doesn’t need a cursed and exiled monster when she has true family to protect and teach her.”
Cursed? Exiled? Zyran and I need to have a chat, because my monster is clearly hiding things from me. How long exactly was he on the Folkland island, and how did he get trapped there in the first place? I turn to him. “What did you do?”
“He is a traitor to the throne, sister. Traitor to the people of Oblivion, and our dark god has forsaken him. He was cursed to be a gargoyle by our father. There have only been several hundred in our entire history who have been cursed. The curse is not given lightly,” my brother answers.
My eyes widen as I look at Zyran. Damn, what did he do? Zyran looks at me once before turning his dark eyes on my brother. “I am not going anywhere, and we both know I would level this castle if you attempted to make me leave her.”
“Meredith?” my brother asks me.
“I don’t want him to leave.” The words feel right, even if I’m a little conflicted. Zyran still has saved my life several times, and he has never given me a reason not to trust him.
“Fine.” He looks between us with gritted teeth. “Come inside. It’s cold to be speaking out on the balcony all night. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink to continue this, especially if you are keeping your gargoyle pet, sister.”
Zyran snaps his teeth at his back, and I sigh as he walks away. I look up at Zyran and arch an eyebrow. “Traitor to the throne?”
“I told you I wasn’t a good person.” He runs his fingertips down my arm until his hand finds mine and links our fingers together.
“What made you think, in all the time we’ve known each other, that I was anything less than a monster?
” He leans in. “We both know you don’t like me because I’m some good Prince Charming type. ”
Heat builds in my lower stomach. He isn’t wrong. There has always been something wrong with me because I see red flags as come closer signs. Especially when the red flags look like Zyran. “Are you going to tell me what you did?”
There is something like sadness, almost an aching pain in his eyes as he leans in even closer. “Yes, but not yet. Do you trust me, love?”
I think I’m running out of people I actually know who are good.
I’m pretty sure my entire acquaintance list is full of people who would definitely be called morally grey or worse.
I should have some better judgement, some deep part of me that warns I shouldn’t trust him, but another part of me just does.
I can’t explain it, I don’t even understand it, but there is something deep down that tells me he is on my side.
Fucked-up but mine. “I’m not running away screaming, so you can take that as a yes. ”
“Shame, I like to hunt you down,” he whispers just for me, making my cheeks burn. “Come on, your delightful brother is waiting.”
“You really don’t like him, do you?” I mutter. I’m not sure what history lies between them, but I can definitely tell it’s messy.
Zyran just smirks as we walk into the room, which is full of expensive dark furnishings and warm lighting.
The room itself is beautiful, with dark pillars and gold-lined black-tiled floors.
Several massive dark sofas fill the room in the centre, and there’s a fireplace, though it isn’t lit, much to my relief.
I’m glad for Zyran’s hand in mine as my brother waves a hand at the sofas. “Sit anywhere you wish.”
He pours three tumblers as we sit down together on the smallest sofa, as far away from the fireplace as I can get.
He hands us the tumblers with some shiny red drink.
I take it, holding it for all of a second before Zyran picks it out of my hand and takes a long sniff of the drink and then hands it back to me.
My brother mutters something under his breath as he sits down opposite us, sipping on his drink for a while. “I still can’t quite believe you’re sitting here, Meredith.”
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Vordain.” The name doesn’t bring any memories like I hoped. “You used to just call me Dain like our parents did. Of course, in public, you must call me King or Vordain.”
I nod, clutching the glass tight. “Tell me what happened the last time you saw me. I need to know, Dain.” It’s weird calling him by his name, especially when I don’t remember him. It’s stranger to have him looking at me with an intense familiarity that siblings just have.
“It’s not an easy night to speak about.” He drinks some more. “I don’t talk to anyone about that night, but considering you’re the only other one who was there, perhaps just this once—why not?” He pauses. “My—no, our—mother died that night.”
“Oh,” I whisper. I wish I could remember her, but I don’t.
“You weren’t meant to come into your power that soon.
Usually, we receive our powers in full force around the age of twelve to thirteen.
You were eight.” He finishes his drink and puts the glass down, leaning back against the sofa.
“We were visiting the Crone Pack, and you weren’t even meant to be on the trip, but you were a pain in the ass and never listened, so you snuck onto the ship and hid until it was too late to take you back.
Mother was angry, but there was no changing your mind when it was set. ”
“Why was she going to the Crone pack lands?” I ask.