Chapter Four

I wake up tangled in sheets that smell like Damon.

Again.

This is the third morning I've woken up in one of their beds instead of my own. The bond won't let me sleep alone anymore. The pain gets too intense around midnight, and I end up crawling through one of the connecting doors like some pathetic thing.

Last night it was Damon's room. He was already awake when I stumbled in, didn't say a word. Just moved to the chair by the window while I took his bed.

Now he's gone and sunlight is streaming through windows I forgot to close.

Someone knocks.

"It's open," I call out.

Caius walks in. He's wearing training gear. All black. He looks at me in Damon's bed and something flickers across his face.

"Get dressed," he says. "You start combat training in twenty minutes."

"Combat training?"

"You're bonded to three Princes. That makes you a target." His pale eyes are serious. "You need to learn how to defend yourself."

"I already know how to fight."

"Street fighting isn't the same as royal combat." He walks to the closet, pulls out clothes I've never seen. Training gear. "You'll be fighting wolves who've had professional training since they could walk. You need to be better."

He tosses the clothes at me. Leaves without another word.

I get dressed. The training gear fits perfectly. Form-fitting pants, breathable top, boots that actually support my ankles. Everything I've never had.

When I come out, Kieran's waiting in the hallway.

"Morning, sunshine." He's too cheerful for this early. "Ready to get your ass kicked?"

"Who's training me?"

"All three of us." He starts walking. I follow. "We each have different fighting styles. You need to learn all of them."

"Why?"

"Because your enemies will use every style against you." He glances back. "And trust me, you have enemies."

We reach the training yard. It's massive. Open air, multiple sparring rings, weapons lining the walls. And in the center, Damon and Caius are already warming up.

Both shirtless.

My wolf perks up immediately. Traitor.

Damon sees me first. "You're late."

"I'm exactly on time."

"On time is late." He tosses me a practice sword. Wood, but heavy. "Kieran, run her through basics. Caius and I will assess."

"Assess what?"

"How much work we have ahead of us." Damon crosses his arms. Watches me like I'm something to be measured and found lacking. "Show us what you've got."

Kieran moves to the center ring. "Come on. Try to hit me."

"I don't want to hurt you."

He laughs. "You won't."

That pisses me off.

I swing. Fast. Aiming for his ribs.

He dodges like it's nothing. "Too obvious. You're telegraphing your moves."

I swing again. He blocks it with one hand.

"Footwork is sloppy. You're off balance."

Another swing. He disarms me in two moves.

The practice sword clatters to the ground.

"You fight like someone who's desperate," Kieran says. Not mean. Just honest. "All aggression, no strategy. That works in back alleys. It'll get you killed here."

"Then teach me something useful."

"That's the plan." He picks up the sword, hands it back. "Again. This time, think before you swing."

We go for an hour. By the end, I'm dripping sweat and he hasn't even broken a sweat. Every move I make, he counters. Every attack, he blocks.

It's humiliating.

"Enough," Caius calls out. "My turn."

Kieran steps back. Caius enters the ring.

He's bigger than Kieran. Broader. The scar on his face makes him look dangerous even when he's just standing there.

"No weapons," he says. "Hand to hand."

"I'm already exhausted."

"Your enemies won't care." He drops into a fighting stance. "Attack me."

I hesitate.

"Now."

I lunge. He sidesteps, grabs my arm, flips me. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

"Get up."

I get up.

"Again."

This goes on for another hour. He puts me on my back seventeen times. I don't land a single hit.

When Caius finally steps back, I can barely stand.

"You're weak," he says flatly. "Slow. Predictable."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"I'm not here to encourage you. I'm here to keep you alive." He grabs a water bottle, tosses it to me. "You have potential. But potential means nothing if you're dead."

Damon's turn is worse.

He doesn't hold back. Every hit lands. Every throw hurts. He fights like he's trying to break me, and maybe he is.

"You drop your left shoulder before you punch," he says after putting me on my back for the tenth time. "You favor your right leg. Your guard is too high."

"I get it. I'm terrible."

"You're untrained. There's a difference." He offers his hand. Pulls me up. "But you're also stubborn. That's useful."

"Is this the part where you tell me I did good?"

"No. This is the part where I tell you we're doing this every morning at dawn until you can last five minutes against any of us."

"Five minutes? I can barely last one."

"Exactly." He steps closer. Close enough that I can feel the heat from his skin. The bond flares between us. "You're bonded to us, Sage. That means our enemies are your enemies. And they'll come for you specifically because you're the weakest link."

The words sting because they're true.

"I'll get better," I say.

"You will. Or you'll die." He walks away. "Be here tomorrow. Same time."

I collapse onto a bench. Every muscle screams. My wolf is whimpering.

Kieran sits beside me. Hands me a towel.

"That was rough," he says.

"You think?"

"For what it's worth, you lasted longer than most." He leans back. "Damon put a duchess on her back in thirty seconds last year. You made it three minutes."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Little bit." He grins. "You're stronger than you think, Sage. You just need to learn how to use it."

"I don't feel strong."

"Because you've spent five years just surviving. That's different from fighting." He stands. Offers his hand. "Come on. I'll show you the baths. You've earned it."

The royal baths are insane.

Hot springs. Steam. Tiles that probably cost more than I'll ever make. Private pools separated by silk curtains.

Kieran leads me to one, then pauses. "Want company or privacy?"

"Privacy."

"Figured." He starts to leave, then turns back. "Hey. You did good today. Really."

He leaves before I can respond.

I sink into the hot water and nearly cry from relief. Everything hurts. But it's a good hurt. The kind that means I'm getting stronger.

I stay until the water goes cold.

When I finally drag myself out and get dressed, there's a note on the bench.

*Dinner at seven. Don't be late. And for gods' sake, wear something nice. We have guests.*

*- D*

Guests. Great.

I make it back to my room with ten minutes to spare. The closet has more dresses than this morning. Someone's been shopping for me.

I pick a dark red one. Off shoulder, fitted. Makes me look older. Dangerous.

Martha appears to help with my hair.

"Big dinner tonight," she says while pinning curls. "The King invited several Alpha families."

"Why?"

"To show you off." She meets my eyes in the mirror. "To prove the bond is real and you're under royal protection."

"Or to parade me around like property."

"That too." She finishes. Steps back. "You look beautiful."

I look like someone else.

Helena arrives to escort me. We walk through corridors I'm starting to recognize. Past guards who now nod at me. Past servants who whisper but don't stare as openly.

The dining hall is full.

Long tables. Candles everywhere. At least fifty wolves in formal dress.

And at the head table, the three Princes in matching black suits.

Damon sees me first. Something flashes in his eyes. Appreciation? Heat?

Kieran grins. "Damn."

Even Caius looks twice.

The King stands. "Ah. Our guest of honor."

Every eye turns to me.

I want to run.

Instead, I walk forward. Head high. Like Martha taught me.

The King gestures to an empty seat between Kieran and Caius. "Sit, child. Let's show our guests what a true mate bond looks like."

I sit.

And realize this dinner is about to be a battlefield of an entirely different kind.