Faye's POV
The words cut through the air like steel against bone. "I knew you lacked a wolf," he said, his voice steady as the tempest raging beyond my walls. "I didn't realize you were also voiceless."
My legs felt like lead as I struggled to step forward, my voice trapped somewhere deep in my throat. Terror squeezed my chest while perspiration dampened my palms beneath my dress. I wanted to challenge him, to ask how he'd entered without detection, but only a strangled breath escaped my lips.
"My lord," I managed, dipping my head with practiced deference while maintaining eye contact. "Forgive my disheveled appearance. I received no word of your visit to my quarters this evening."
He moved across the creaking floorboards without sound, yet each shift of his body made my chamber shrink around us. This wasn't mere walking but predatory stalking, like a wild thing that had slipped its bonds. Even in stillness, he radiated movement. Like the tempest itself, like rushing wind. Forever observing. Forever poised to attack.
Then came his question, delivered with casual cruelty that chilled my blood. "Tell me, what do you suppose would occur if the promised bride took her own life before the Prince's arrival?"
The inquiry pierced me like a dagger through flesh.
My soul went rigid while my body remained motionless.
I understood his meaning perfectly.
Should he desire my death, nothing would prevent it. No one would dare intervene. Something in his manner told me he wouldn't hesitate for even a moment.
Yet I fought to maintain composure. Not complete calm, that would seem rehearsed. Not pure terror either, for fear would only encourage whatever twisted game he played.
"My death would ignite war," I replied. "Should I defy the King's command or perish before our union, my entire pack faces extermination as punishment for defiance."
Hardy's profile remained unchanged in the storm light, though I felt his attention intensify.
"He requires a bride for his brother," I pressed on, my voice gaining strength with truth. "If that bride should die, the King would view it as rebellion. He would grant you permission to eliminate Duskwood entirely."
Silence stretched between us. Had I answered correctly? Was this what he sought to hear?
Then Hardy's mouth curved upward, not with kindness but slowly, as though the expression had been won. "Intelligent."
His gaze held something I couldn't decipher. Not pleasure. Not endorsement.
Something far more dangerous.
"I was uncertain what to anticipate," he continued. "They described you as silent. Delicate. Unremarkable. But not foolish."
He advanced closer. Darkness wrapped around him like vapor while his presence blazed through the space like flame.
Rain scented his coat, violence marked his history, and something icier lurked beneath it all.
My hands remained steady at my sides.
Do not shake. Please, do not shake.
Hardy now stood directly before me, arms relaxed. He studied me as though calculating something, perhaps how quickly he could end my life, or if the effort was worthwhile.
"I did not come here to squander time on an Omega," he stated. "Your father conceals something."
The accusation caught me off guard. Barely. Not enough to reveal.
"Conceals what?" As Alpha of one of Arkadia's most formidable packs, my father surely harbored secrets. But what connection did this have to me?
He angled his head. "Something he wishes hidden from the King. And I intend to discover what it is."
Thunder crashed overhead, violent enough to shake the windows. Still, I held his stare.
"I don't know."
His eyebrow twitched slightly.
"I speak truthfully," I said quickly. "They never included me in council. War discussions and tactical meetings were forbidden to me. My presence was deemed troublesome."
Another pause stretched between us.
The room immediately hummed with tension, as if the very stones were listening. Watching.
Waiting for his decision.
One movement, I realized. That's all it would require. One movement and he could snap my neck before I could cry out.
Yet he remained still.
His eyes searched mine.
"Worthless after all," his voice dropped lower, but he didn't depart.
And that terrified me more than anything else. Why did he linger?
"Truly. They barred me from council sessions. I couldn't even speak during diplomatic visits. They share nothing with me." I knew he understood. How could they permit my participation? I am feeble. Without power. This man hadn't come seeking information. He'd come hunting for any excuse to eliminate his next bride.
A dismissive sound followed. "What a worthless creature." He suddenly grasped my chin, forcing my face upward. I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. They weren't luminous or monstrous, but something felt wrong, disturbed.
As if something within him possessed an appetite greater than any beast.
"How perfectly worthless," he said, releasing me. The tranquility in his tone only sharpened the poison. "What a disappointment."
Then he snapped his fingers, and a figure suddenly appeared through the window. "Arrange something. I care not what. Ensure she dies without suffering," Hardy commanded. "Make it swift. And by sunrise, reduce the Duskwood Pack to cinders. Let them understand the consequences of mocking a King's command."
My eyes widened in horror. He was serious. They would destroy us all.
"Wait! My lord!"
He stopped mid-stride.
Then slowly pivoted.
That smile returned. "Ah? Does the little sacrifice have more to say?"
I drew a steadying breath. "I believe I can serve you. I believe I can prove valuable."
The spark in his eyes suggested curiosity, not conviction. So I stepped toward the nearest guard and reached for the blade at his belt.
Instantly, fingers locked around my wrist.
Firmly.
"Allow me to demonstrate something."
He made a sound between mockery and laughter, then nodded slightly.
The guard released me without protest.
Without pause, I drew the blade across my palm.
Blood flowed immediately, crimson and heavy, streaming down my fingers and spattering the wooden floor. I turned my hand upward, displaying the wound. The bleeding continued until it ceased.
Gradually, the flow slowed. The cut's edges pulsed faintly, then began sealing.
There, before their eyes.
Skin mended itself, fiber by fiber, until the wound vanished as though it had never existed.
I lifted my gaze to meet Hardy's once more.
Before I could speak, the man beside Hardy unsheathed his sword and aimed it at my throat. "Back away, sorceress, or I'll open your throat!"