Chapter Seven

CYRUS

Lucas was late. That wasn't unusual. But what was unusual was the frenetic energy radiating through Cyrus's entire body. He prided himself on being cool and collected but he felt like he'd been bit by a live wire. He was practically bouncing with nerves.

And Lucas still hadn't arrived. He'd be punished horribly by their uncle for his tardiness. But it wasn't even that. He knew as well as Cyrus did that Sorin hated these dinners and he always made sure to be there for him as a buffer. Cyrus wasn't any good as a buffer. He'd still try though.

“What did Luc say he was doing before dinner?” He asked Sorin, leaning over his untouched chicken. It was dry. This Pack's chef paled in comparison to the chefs at the castle.

Sorin shot him a disgruntled look. “He didn't say anything. He just fucked off with the first piece of tail he spotted.”

Cyrus huffed a laugh. That sounded like Lucas alright. He was always after some girl or other. It was a coping mechanism, Cyrus knew. Lucas couldn't stand to be alone, and so he never was.

Suddenly the door opened to the feasting hall and Lucas strode in, one girl on each arm.

Cyrus gave Sorin a look. Sorin gave him a flat look back. He was being bolder than usual. Flaunting his little indiscretions in front of their uncle. Cyrus cast a glance at the King. He didn't seem bothered, thank the goddess, already too loosened up by the mead served with the first course, and the cider after that. Lucas had missed the first half of dinner, coming in midway through the entrée. 

As he approached, the two girls - omegas by the looks of them - tittered and left through the servant doors. No doubt going to tell all their friends that they bagged a prince.

Cyrus let his mind wander momentarily to his little spitfire in the woods. She certainly wouldn't be bragging about bagging him if her look of shocked consternation after their kiss was anything to go off of.

Cyrus leaned over Sorin to whisper to Lucas once he sat down. 

“You're late.”

Lucas gave him a cheeky smile and an eye roll. 

“It's not like I missed anything, nothing ever happens at these things,” he replied.

“Something is going to happen tonight”, Cyrus hissed. “I think there is going to be an attempt on our lives. Stay vigilant.” And just like that Lucas snapped from languid playboy to the powerful warrior Cyrus knew he could be. He may play it but he was no fool.

“What kind of attempt? Are you sure?”

“No, not one hundred percent but I'm convinced enough to stay watchful. Something to do with mistletoe berries,” He lowered his voice further, keeping one watchful eye on his uncle to make sure they weren't overheard. “And if she has the stones to go through with it I think our problem with the king may be solved. Tonight.” 

He almost hoped she didn't go through with it. It would be a shame to have to execute someone so vivacious. But it was necessary. They needed a killer to kill the King, and then they needed to respond harshly and swiftly so no one would look at them for the murder.

A door opened on the other side of the hall and Cyrus looked up. There she was.

“That's her,” he whispered to his brothers. Lucas cast an appreciative glance over her.

“Stop leering, she's coming this way,” Cyrus snapped, unsure why the thought of Lucas seeing her as nothing more than a plaything bothered him. 

She was wearing a bland uniform, made of some kind of scratchy canvas material. Strange, it almost looked like the uniforms omegas wore in these parts. But she wasn't an omega. He had felt the dominance rolling off her in waves earlier. The way she walked with her head held high, locked eyes with him, spoke of power. Enough to even rival his own. 

But something was different. She walked with tentative steps, eyes downcast, so changed from the brash wild thing he'd met earlier. Was this the same girl? What happened to his spitfire.

He was beginning To doubt his own eyes when she looked up briefly and their eyes met across the room. Her amber eyes flashed in surprise as they met his blue ones and she stumbled.

She obviously didn't expect to see him at the head table. Before he could even attempt to steady her she lost her balance and dropped the golden jug she'd been carrying. Mulled wine splashed out and poured everywhere, and with it dozens of pearly white berries spilled out onto the floor.

You could hear a pin drop. It was so quiet. Until-

“YOU WOLFLESS PIECE OF SHIT. LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!”

Wait, Wolfless?