"Get moving, rogue."
Seraphina felt a spear's butt stab her in the back. Her ripped garment trailed behind her like a banner of shame as she staggered ahead, barefoot and bound. She gasped as the silently opening obsidian gates of the Lycan palace revealed what lay beyond. In front of her was an enormous hall made of black stone that went on forever. The chamber was surrounded by pillars that resembled howling wolves, each one pierced with silver veins that pulsated dimly with unearthly light.
Kael Draven, the Lycan King, sat at the far end on a throne made of twisted bone and jagged obsidian. Behind her, a guard snarled, "Don't look up. You're not deserving." Nevertheless, Seraphina lifted her chin. She couldn't tell which hurt more, the weight of all the eyes in the throne room crashing into her like knives or the aching wounds on her body.
Both warriors and nobility watched in astonishment as lycans lined the court. The muttering began low and poisonous. "Is that... an Omega?" "Did she cross the border?" "She had the smell of rogue blood." "She ought to have passed away by now." "Blasphemy." Kael did not move. At first impression, he was more shadow than man. His posture was languid, majestic, and he wore a midnight cloak with silver-threaded pauldrons. But as though time had stopped for him alone, his old, dark, and unfathomable eyes were fixed on Seraphina.
One of the soldiers declared, "She was found in the outer dunes, my King. Sacrosanct land trespassing." Lord Varyn, Kael's senior advisor, grunted, "A rogue Omega in Lycan territory," and moved ahead. His tone was brimming with contempt. "That is a death sentence by decree. Should we take the body in silence or execute her here?"
Kael's voice, smooth and deep like the first rumble of an impending storm, drifted through the chamber, "Wait." The room went cold. Despite feeling lightheaded, Seraphina pushed herself to stand. Her lips were parched, her skin was pallid, and her copper locks hung limp from perspiration and grime. But there was something about her, something in her rebellious gaze, that made the wolves uncomfortable.
Kael got up from his seat. The way quiet bowed to him was what sparked the anxiety, not the movement itself. As he went down the obsidian steps, every whisper and every sound died. He moved as if he were a god aware that the ground would quiver under his feet. He commanded, "Bring her forth."
As Seraphina was pushed to the bottom of the stairs, her wrists burnt. She caught herself before her knees crumbled. Kael stopped and looked down at her. His beard did nothing to soften his features; it was shadowed by his harsh, angular jaw. Heat and authority emanated from him. He examined her like a predator attempting to recall where he had previously seen this prey, rather than a man evaluating a prisoner.
"What's your name?" he enquired. As Seraphina spoke, her lips broke. "Seraphina." "And what are you?" When she realised the trap, she halted and said, "I'm alive." The court echoed with a murmur. Varyn growled, "You make fun of the throne?" Kael interrupted him, "She didn't answer your question because she doesn't know what she is." He walked slowly around her.
"Do you?" Turning slightly, Seraphina followed his eyes and said, "If that's what you're asking, I'm not yours." "Not yet." Nobody moved as the words fell like stones in a lake. "You crossed a sacred border. That should have burned you alive, but you made it through," Kael said, pausing in front of her.
"I fled from worse things," she remarked. Kael answered in a hushed voice, which strangely added to the horror: "There is nothing worse than me." "My King, she is beneath us. She has no clan, no rank. Not even scent ancestry. She's polluted," said a young courtier, a slip of a noble girl. "So why doesn't the land itself turn her away? Why did the border allow her to survive?"
Kael's voice had lowered to a whisper. Nobody responded. A few aristocrats chuckled to themselves as Seraphina's vision became blurry and her knees eventually failed, causing her to collapse.
Kael remained expressionless. Rather, he knelt down, his face softening somewhat at eye level with her. "Do you want to live?" he asked. "No," she said, "but I'm not prepared to pass away." He gazed at her, and for a brief instant, an ancient, unsaid, yet very familiar exchange took place between them. Then he got up.
"Court," he said. All heads turned. "I own her." Like gunfire, gasps sprang forth. Varyn almost staggered forward, "She's what?" "Your Majesty, you cannot—" "Mine," Kael said again.
Like thunder, the word cracked. A number of the soldiers automatically fell to one knee, their faces displaying bewilderment; the others paused, caught between duty and incredulity.
"Kael!" a voice interrupted the confusion. Astrid. Having once been promised to the King, she acted as though it still belonged to her, and now she appeared, her robe a sleek river of black and silver, her beauty as keen as a razor. Astrid growled, "You cannot keep her. She is a parasite." Without glancing at her, Kael declared, "You will treat her as such. She's under my wardship now."
With a quivering voice, another courtier questioned, "And if we refuse?" Kael pivoted. Silver blazed in his eyes. "I'll treat you the same way I punish traitors." Like snow, silence fell. Even as Astrid's eyes darkened, she remained silent.
"Kneel." Kael turned to face the chamber. Some fell right away. The court bowed one by one, though others paused. Seraphina was the only one still standing, breathless and barely awake. Kael went down the last step and came to a halt before her. He whispered, "You'll be protected, for the time being. You'll rest." She hardly managed to say, "Why?"
"Because the Moon remembers you, even if you've forgotten yourself," said Kael, tilting his head. She blinked, saying, "What?" However, her body buckled. Kael grasped her as she fell, preventing her head from hitting the ground.
The tiny silver glow growing at her chest, throbbing like moonlight beneath her flesh, caused gasps to ripple once more, but this time they were not from dread. Kael gazed at it. Astrid did, too. Someone murmured, "The mark." "It can't be..." The light dimmed.
Kael turned to face his Beta, who was motionless. He said, "Discover what she is and why the moon claims her." He himself carried Seraphina from the throne room. Long after the King had disappeared into the night, the startled court continued to kneel.
"He carried her? Using his own hands?" whispers threaded through the chamber. Even Lord Varyn, who had never lowered his head except before Kael himself, was now pacing like a restless wolf as whispers reverberated through the silver hallways like ghosts. The emptiness of the obsidian throne was a terrifying symbol of the startled quiet of the court.
"This is going to blow everything up," he spat. Rage swirled beneath her porcelain mask; Astrid's hands clenched into fists beneath her flowing sleeves, and she stood still before the altar of oaths, her sapphire eyes focused on the entrance Kael had disappeared through. "She's playing tricks on him," she said.
"My lady, she fainted," a courtier remarked uneasily. He always fell for broken things, therefore this was the ideal method to gain his sympathy, Astrid growled. Somewhere, a deep growl rumbled.
The chamber's heavy double doors creaked open, and the court held its breath as Kael strode back in by himself, his cloak billowing behind him like smoke. Astrid was the only one brave enough, or stupid enough, to question, "Where is she?"
"Safe," Kael declared. It was a simple word, but it meant law to him.
"My King, pardon the audacity, but this is not protocol. The council must vote on any new recruits to the High Ward. Especially one as... unvetted as this girl," Varyn said, his voice quivering under the weight of what had just transpired.
"She's not an addition to your council. She's under my protection. That is not up for dispute," Kael said, his eyes unwavering.
Astrid stepped forward and said, "You can't just call someone a rogue, Kael. She has no clan, no allegiance. Her blood is untested. Her scent is off. What if she's a spy, or worse?"
"Then let them come. I'll burn them all," Kael said, his gaze darting to her.
"Are you crazy?" "No," he replied, "I am forgiving." Once more, there were murmurs in the court. The words "mercy isn't in your nature" made Astrid wince.
"No," he answered icily, "but it belongs to her."
"Then let her prove it. Let her be tested by the moonstone," Varyn said, swallowing hard.
"You want her to stand trial before she can stand on her own two feet?" Kael asked, tilting his head.
Astrid yelled, "Better now than when she's grown powerful under your name."
"You fear strength in the wrong lady, Astrid," the King said in a halting voice. For a brief moment, the court could see the fire beneath the frost. Kael was renowned for both his control and his might, and both were failing now.
At dawn, he finally said, "Very fine. Let her face the moonstone." Varyn's eyes glinted with grudging approval, yet he bowed. "Until then, nobody talks to her, touches her, or approaches her chamber." He looked around the corridor. "And I shall presume treason if I discover even one rule disobeyed or one shadow misplaced."
Kael walked away. Astrid turned to her handmaid, a sinister smile twisting her lips as she watched him leave. "Then allow her trial to begin sooner."