Chapter 3 Beyond the Gates #3
My knees give out. I’m half-dragged, half-lifted, until I’m flush against him, my cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, while mine is a thunderstorm.
“Release the princess!” the captain calls. I recognize his voice, too. Sir Edmond, my father’s favorite dog. He steps forward, his sword leveled at Shade’s throat. “Step aside, all of you, or die.”
Rune laughs. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
Shade ignores the blade, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of my ear. “What do you want, Raisa?” he asks, and for once, it isn’t a command. It’s a genuine question.
I don’t know how to answer. Part of me wants to break free and run, back to the crushing weight of duty and the familiarity of my royal shackles.
But another, louder part wants to stay right here, held between these men.
I want to belong, for once in my life, to someone who actually wants me. To them.
I shudder, unable to find words.
Bran answers for me. “She wants peace. You and your king have never given her that.”
Edmond sneers. “Step away from her, or we’ll remove your hands from her ourselves.”
Grim bares his teeth. “Try it.”
The standoff stretches, time slowing to a blurry crawl. I glance up and see Father himself on the far edge of the clearing, flanked by his council. His face is bloodless, his eyes fixed on me—not with concern, but with scorching fury.
He lifts his hand.
Archers emerge from the dark, bows drawn, arrows nocked and aimed at the men around me. At me.
Panic clutches my throat.
“No!” I scream. I try to break free, but Shade’s arm doesn’t budge. I twist until I’m facing Bran, then Grim, and finally Shade, my voice shaking. “Let me go. Please.”
Bran’s eyes are heartbreak and hope. “We can protect you.”
“Not if they kill you,” I hiss. “Let me go, please. I’ll come back, I promise. Just…don’t let them hurt you.”
Something passes between the seven men, a ripple that sounds like a sigh of surrender, a look that feels like hunger, excitement, and relief all rolled into one.
Shade lifts his chin and meets my father’s gaze. “If you harm her,” he says, his voice a weapon, “we will burn your kingdom to the ground.”
Father blanches, his face red with rage and something that looks a little like madness in the lantern light, but he doesn’t say a word.
Grim is the last to release me. His hand slides from my shoulder to my wrist, his thumb stroking my pulse. “You’re ours now, Princess,” he murmurs, so quietly only I can hear.
Then Shade opens his arms, and I’m exposed, vulnerable, nothing between me and Father’s guards.
Edmond lunges, his hands closing on my arms—cold, iron-gloved, and familiar.
I look back just once. Bran is watching me, his expression a blend of sorrow and certainty. Shade’s face is unreadable, but the darkness in his eyes is a murderous promise I know he means to keep.
The guards haul me away, back through the woods, the black feather still clutched in my hand. It’s bent, broken, but I won’t let it go.
Father storms ahead, not even looking at me.
The men don’t follow, but I feel them watching.
I’m dragged through brambles and thorns, my skirt ripped, my hair a mess. The guards are rough, their touch nothing like the men who just held me. Edmond’s grip bruises my arm, and I don’t bother to hide the tears that run down my cheeks.
They don’t ask if I’m all right. They just keep pulling me toward the palace, ignoring my sobs and the way I stumble with every step.
I want to hate them. I want to hate myself for being weak, for wanting something so dangerous.
But all I can think about is the heat of Shade’s hand on my skin, the way Grim’s voice made my bones melt, the way Bran looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Sable’s taunting smile. Talon’s fierce beauty.
The softness in Onyx’s eyes and the wisdom in Rune’s.
I don’t know what’s happening to me.
At the gates, Edmond shoves me toward Father.
“Father, I–”
“Get inside,” he snaps, his voice as cold as a winter frost. “And if you so much as look at the forest again, you’ll stay in the tower until you’re nothing but bones and ash.”
I nod, dazed. My legs carry me forward, but my mind stays behind. With them.
The castle doors close behind me with a boom that echoes through the stone halls. I’m home again, but not the same as before.
I climb the stairs to the tower with Edmond at my side, every step a reminder of how much I’ve lost, and how much more I want. My skin tingles with memory, my body aching in ways I’ve never felt before.
When we reach the tower, I collapse onto the narrow bed, the black feather pressed to my lips. I inhale the wildness, the possibility, the memory of their touch.
Below, the garden is silent. But I know in my bones that the ravens are still watching. Waiting. And I think maybe, inexplicably, they’re the seven men who just claimed me as their own.
I close my eyes and dream of them.
Of freedom.
Of belonging.
Of eyes like hunger and hands that know how to make me feel alive.