Pacifica
I sat motionless on the edge of the vast royal bed, the heavy brocade coverlet cold
beneath my palms.
The bridal chamber, Flame Shai's private sanctum was oppressively grand. Vaulted ceilings lost in shadow, walls hung with tapestries of dragon conquests, braziers casting restless amber light across the floor.
I waited as a bride was supposed to wait for her groom on their wedding night.
But deep in my bones I knew the truth. I would rather die than let him claim me.
My eyes remained fixed on the massive oak door. Any moment now his footsteps would echo down the corridor. Any moment the latch would lift. I was ready.
For years after I came of age, my father had trained me in secret. Archery in the hidden
glades at dawn. Swordplay in forgotten armories by torchlight. Mounted combat
on moonless nights. Riding at breakneck speed through the wilds.
Skills no princess, no female, was permitted to learn. We had kept it concealed from the
court, from the pack, from everyone.
I had even ridden to war once, disguised
in mail and helm, desperate to aid Dream when the fox clans cried out for help
against the dragons.
I had failed. I had not been swift enough to turn the tide when Flame Shai's father descended with fire and fury to smoke out the Fox King. That defeat still burned in me like an open wound.
I blinked hard, forcing myself back to the present. My breath steadied, then caught.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate. Approaching.
The door flew open with a low groan.
My heart lodged in my throat.
Flame Shai filled the doorway, still clad in his royal robes of black velvet and gold
embroidery.
The after-feast lingered on him. The faint sheen of wine on his lips, the flush across his cheekbones, the lazy sway in his stride. He looked drunk. That only sharpened the danger in him.
He crossed the room without a word, wavy hair shifting softly with each step. The door
remained open behind him, an oversight, or perhaps deliberate arrogance.
He reached the bed in three strides, seized my wrists, and pulled me down beneath him. His body covered mine, heavy and hot. His mouth crashed against my lips; I tasted
liquor and smoke.
His palm slid to my waist, fingers digging in as he lifted my thigh, seeking to claim more.
I shoved him with every ounce of strength I possessed.
He had not expected resistance. For one heart-stopping second he froze, stunned.
The same refusal that had cost my father his life seem to be what he detested most.
He pulled back slowly. His jaw locked tight. His eyes, dark and molten, rose to meet mine. He saw the resolve there. I would not yield. Not tonight. Not ever, if I could
help it.
"Call me Darcy," he said over his shoulder to the corridor beyond the open door. The
words were calm. Commanding.
My knees nearly gave way.
His stepsister. The same woman I had caught him tangled with. The same one he had
denied, lied about, even as my father's blood still stained the throne room floor.
Time stretched thin. His gaze never left my face. Then came the soft patter of bare
feet on stone.
Darcy entered wearing only a whisper-thin nightdress of pale silk. She looked as
though she had been waiting, hair unbound and gleaming, lips already parted in
anticipation.
She closed the door behind her with a quiet click, glanced once at me with cool amusement, then turned her full attention to Flame Shai.
Without a word she crossed to him. Slender fingers caught the straps of her gown and let
them fall. The fabric pooled at her feet. She stood naked in the firelight, skin glowing, breasts rising with each breath.
She climbed onto our matrimonial bed, my matrimonial bed, and pressed her mouth to his right in front of me.
I swallowed the humiliation like bile.
"We can wait as long as you want, Pup," Flame Shai murmured against her lips, eyes
never leaving mine. "But the longer you delay… the longer I fuck another cunt. Just so you know."
I clenched my jaw until it ached, fighting to keep the pieces of myself from shattering. I
could not bear it. I turned sharply toward the door.
Darcy's first moan filled the chamber behind me, soft, deliberate, triumphant.
My fingers shook as I wrenched the latch open and fled down the torch-lit corridor. Air. I
needed air. Sanity. Anything to drown the sounds echoing at my back.
I burst through a side arch into a small, dimly lit garden. Moonless night pressed
close; stars hid behind heavy clouds. I collapsed against a stone bench and let
the tears come, hot, silent, unstoppable.
Ache clawed my chest. I missed my parents. I missed the familiar howls of my pack under the full moon. I missed the life that had been ripped away in a single night.
How could I survive this? There was no path forward unless Flame Shai died. No
escape. No hope.
That bitter truth wrapped around me like a shroud.
Then I realized I was not alone.
I froze mid-sob.
Slowly I lifted my head.
Across the garden, half in shadow, stood the Loyal Knight. The vampire sent from his
kingdom to serve Flame Shai until death claimed one or both of them.
His helm was removed, cradled against his armored stomach. His back was to me; long,
wavy black hair cascaded down over his pauldrons.
A single silver earring glinted in the faint torch-spill from the corridor. I couldn't make out his full face but I saw some runes that curved across his exposed cheek, elegant, ancient lines too refined for a mere slave-soldier.
A cold shiver raced through me at his stillness, his presence. I straightened, wiping
my eyes with trembling fingers.
Then voices echoed from the hall behind me.
"My queen?"
The maids. Searching.
I glanced back toward the corridor, then whipped my head around again.
The Knight was gone. No sound of footsteps. No rustle of armor. Simply vanished.
Confusion gripped me. On impulse I crossed to the spot where he had stood and peered over the low wall.
Tombstones rose in silent rows beyond the garden hedge. The eternal resting place of
Dragon Kings past. Beside each royal grave lay a smaller marker for the Loyal Knight buried with his lord. Alive or dead, the oath demanded it.
Why had this new Knight been staring at those stones? Contemplating his own inevitable fate?
The moment Flame Shai fell, he would be sealed beneath the earth alongside him.
"My queen!"
The maids burst into the garden, lanterns swinging.
I turned sharply.
"You have a visitor," one said, breathless. "He calls himself Dream Maze. He carries words
from the Werewolf Kingdom, words from your mother. Her… last words."
The air punched out of me.
I whirled toward the corridor. My pulse roared in my ears.
My mother… last words?
Last?
The world tilted. I staggered one step forward, then broke into a run, toward the hall, toward Dream, toward whatever cruel new truth awaited me in the darkness.