I am to be wed tomorrow, and I cannot sleep.
I lie in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, and listen to the wind howling outside of the window. Shadows dance across the ceiling, and there is a bite to the air now there are only embers in the grate.
I was trained for this.
I was trained to be beautiful and silent and obedient. I forged a prison for my wild and angry soul and I waited for the day to come when I was to be wed.
A small part of me dreamed that one day I would fall in love like the princesses in my mother's stories, that one day I would be free.
But I always knew there would be no happy ending for me.
So I waited and I dreaded.
And now it is here.
Tomorrow I will wed a man who makes Wolves fight as if they are dogs. Who threatened to take me like a mutt. Whose leery eyes make my skin crawl.
A man who I do not know, I do not love.
He won't touch you.
The alpha's promise resounds in my mind. I should tell someone what he said. I should tell someone he means to escape. I should tell someone he made a threat to the lord, to my betrothed. He is a wolf. An enemy.
Yet I lie here in the darkness, listening to the wind howling outside the castle.
And I remain as silent as I was trained.
It was an idle threat, anyway. There is no way that he can escape.
We are both prisoner to these walls.
Still, I glance at the silver letter opener on the bedside table before sleep finally takes me.
***
Sometimes I dream I am a statue in the palace gardens.
People wander around me, commenting on my shape, my form.
Her eyes look almost alive, they say, when the light hits them.
And all the while, I'm trapped inside myself. Screaming. But my lungs are stone and my lips are hard and my mouth tastes like old cemeteries. So no one hears me, no one cares.
Other times, I'm back in that church and I'm so scared I think I'm going to pass out.
I don't cry, though. Father doesn't like it when I cry. And the priest is in front of me with his crop.
I didn't sin, I protest.
Oh, child. All women sin. Your mother was a sinner, and you are a sinner too. Do you want the Sun Goddess to be angry? No? Good. Turn around.
Other times, I'm running. I'm running through the forest as fast as I can. The wind is in my hair, and twigs snap beneath my bare feet. I am free, but I am afraid. Because something is chasing me and I fear what will happen if it catches me.
My mother's voice ricochets off the trees as I burst into the moonlight.
Wake up, Aurora.
Wake up!
***
My eyes jolt open.
Rain hammers against the walls, and the fire in the grate is completely out. As my vision adjusts to the darkness, I realize what woke me. There is faint shouting coming from somewhere within the castle.
I frown, my breath misting in front of my face.
Outside, something howls. The wind?
The door to my chambers bursts open and I sit upright, grasping the bedsheets.
"What is the meaning–?" The words die in my throat.
The horrible dark-haired male from the kennels prowls into the room. He's still wearing the green kilt from earlier, but now he wears a linen shirt and boots as well. He smells acrid, like sweat mixed with something else unpleasant.
His gaze hones in on me and there's something predatory in it. "Hello, sweetheart."
Visions of his face, twisted and red, as he mounted the woman in the cells, flash before my eyes.
Two other men flank him, wearing the same green tartan. The bald one is tall and muscular with a dark beard and a serious expression. The other has ratlike features and mousy-brown hair that hangs to his chin.
Blood drips from their daggers onto the flagstones.
My heart stills. Time slows down.
One of them—the muscular one—closes the door behind him.
"You were right about her, Magnus," says the ratlike one. "She's quite a beauty." He sniffs the air and grins. "Mm. So sweet and innocent too."
"Aye." Magnus's thin lips curl into a twisted smile. "Not for long, though."
I scramble from the four-poster bed and almost trip over my covers. I grab the letter opener from my bedside table and brandish it before me. Even though it is made of silver, it is a pathetic means to defend myself against three bloodthirsty Wolves.
They know it too.
The ratlike one snickers as Magnus stalks closer.
"Leave now." My voice is shaking. "And Lord Sebastian will let you live."
"Your lord is a bit busy right now," says Magnus. "It's just us, and you. I thought we could take the time to get to know each other better. What do you say?"
I want to clutch my arms over my body as he looks me up, but I do not want to lower the small blade. My nightdress is too thin and the ratlike one leers at my breasts. My nipples are hard due to the cold.
"Get. Out," I hiss.
Magnus chuckles. "Come on, sweetheart. There's no need to be like—"
The door to my room swings open.
"Out." A low growl comes from the doorway.
The three males stiffen.
The alpha stands there. He's wearing a crumpled white linen shirt and high boots as well as his red tartan kilt. His face looks like it is carved from thunder and stone. "Out."
Magnus swallows, before a smile twists back onto his face and he turns. "It's just a bit of fun—"
"Now," says the alpha.
The alpha is bigger than the other three wolves, and there's something in his eyes that promises death. Magnus seems to realize that, and shakes his head.
"Come on, lads. Time to get the fuck out of here." He grins and gives me a mock bow. "Until we meet again, Your Highness."
The alpha shuts the door behind them. My mouth is dry and my head is whirling. Is he my savior? Or does he have something even worse in mind?
"Are you hurt?" he asks.
I hold up the letter opener and curse my trembling hand.
"I'm sorry about them. Their whole clan—" His green eyes darken. "They'll pay for it later."
"You need to leave."
"Aye. I do." He swallows, and his gaze moves from the wardrobe to the crescent moon through the window. As the silence extends between us, I hear more shouting in the castle. "Do you have a warm cloak?"
"Why?"
"It's cold outside."
"I don't see why that is of any relevance to me," I say, my voice higher in pitch than I'd like it to be.
A flicker of regret crosses his face. "Aye, you do."
A humorless laugh escapes my lips and I step back. "You can't possibly think I'm going with you."
"You are, Princess."
"You. . . you won't hurt me," I say.
He sighs. "That's where you're wrong. I won't kill you. And I won't lay a finger on you in the way those bastards were threatening. But you're coming with me. And if I have to overpower you in order to make that happen, I can't promise that won't hurt."
I narrow my eyes, tilting my chin up. "I helped you, earlier."
"Aye, you did. And I appreciate that, Princess. I really do. It doesn't change the fact that I'm taking you with me."
When he steps forward, I brandish the letter opener before me. "Stay back."
The blade is laughably small in relation to his huge build, but he raises his hands placatingly. "Please calm down."
Emotions that have lain dormant inside me for years awaken.
"How dare you tell me to calm down."
Every time my father, or the priest, or my brother dismissed me for daring to show emotion, flashes before my eyes and feeds the wildness growing inside me.
"You come into my chambers in the middle of the night," I slice the blade through the air, "thinking you can steal me from my bed." I cut the space between us. "And you act as if I am overreacting?"
I jab the letter opener at his stomach and he grabs my wrist.
I still. His hand is callused and strong as it wraps around the bone.
"Get off me," I hiss.
He bends my wrist and the tiny blade hits the stone floor and clatters. Crouching down, he picks it up. He winces when the silver comes into contact with his skin.
"You can have this back when you behave yourself."
When he pockets it, I kick his chest. He grabs my ankle, putting a hand on my lower back to steady me. Our eyes meet, and my breath hitches at the intensity of his expression.
"What do you want with me?" I ask.
"I think you can help me end this war."
I shake my head. "Kidnapping me will only worsen it. You're going to get yourself killed, you fool."
"If that is the price I must pay to save my people, I will gladly pay it. So, what will it be, Princess? Will you grab your cloak and walk out of this room with me? Or am I going to throw you over my shoulder? You have a choice. It's not a very good one." He mimics my words from earlier, a grim smile on his face. "But it's a choice nonetheless."
"You bastard." I shake my head. "You can't possibly think you'll get all the way out of the castle."
I can hear shouting and the thunder of hooves in the grounds below.
"See? They're coming for you." I jerk my head toward the window, and a strand of red hair catches in my mouth. "If you go now, you have a chance to—"
Before I know what's happening, he's on his feet, and I'm over his shoulder. I shriek, punching his back.
"Are you insane?" I snarl. "They'll skin you alive for—"
He throws open my wardrobe and the words die in my throat at the inopportune moment for my threat.
In the current circumstance, guilt should not flood so powerfully through my chest at the sight of the wolf coat that hangs there. Nor should I want, desperately, to tell him that it was there when I arrived.
The Wolves have been attacking my people for centuries, yet I can't bring myself to agree with some of Sebastian's more barbaric practices.
He stills, the muscles in his back tightening.
Then he grabs a different fur and heads out of my chambers.
I punch him between his shoulder blades again, but I do not put my full force into it.
Perhaps it's because his mood has darkened and I'm afraid. Or perhaps it's because a small part of me is glad I'm being taken away from my fate with Sebastian, despite how frightening this wolf may be.
"You won't get away with this," I growl, regardless.
"I will. Now be quiet."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Home."