CHAPTER 5

AVARA

I wake up with my head pounding, my throat dry and my skin clammy. I lie still on the bed, not bothering to move, trying to gather myself, narrowing my eyes because the sunlight streaming into the room is stabbing at my eyes.

It had been one hell of a night.

I close my eyes tighter, press onto my memory and fragments of the dream and visions I had the other night claw at my mind.

Hide the spark.

What the hell is this spark?

Nyxarel.

That one came to me in a dream. Same frantic female voice. And right after that, I heard shadows of a voice that sounded like my adopted father’s voice.

What the hell is a Nyxarel?

And then blood, so much blood, tracing lines across persons whose faces I cannot identify. Cold eyes. Golden eyes. Fire and death.

The thud in my head becomes worse and I instinctively force myself upright and reach for the bottle in my nightstand. I take a swig and the headache dies down, the voices silence, whatever has been stirring inside of me recedes and I begin to feel a bit normal.

“Just a dream. It’s just a nightmare.”

I’ve had crazy nightmares before. In fact, I used to have them a lot as a child and my screams through the night irritated Silas so much that he took me to a doctor who gave me that lifesaving liquid of gold. My medication. The one thing that keeps me normal, keeps me sane.

And I stopped having the nightmares until the events of last night.

But last night was different. Everything was so visceral, so clear, so real. As though a part of my memory was pulled open and contents poured out in disarray.

A loud knock resounds at my door.

“Come in.” I sigh, already knowing who it is. Only one person knocks on my door like he owns the place.

Julian steps in. He looks at me with a smile which immediately changes to a frown.

“Just waking up from sleep, dove? It’s almost 10 am.”

“It is?” I check my clock and indeed, it is 10am. That means that I have been asleep for almost 12 hours. “I had a rough, crazy night.”

As I say it, I immediately regret those words, because I know exactly what is coming next.

“Nightmares?”

“I mean, it depends what…”

“Avara, you have to be taking your medication. You know this. You know what happens if you fail to do so.”

“I do take them religiously,” I hiss, already irritated. “I’m not stupid, I’m not a fucking child.”

Julian crosses his hands. “Well, love, I’m not saying that you are lying, but you only have nightmares when you do not take them, so care to explain why you had a rough night last night?”

I almost begin talking about the necklace and what happened when I touched it, but I decide against it. Julian acts like he is my father’s right hand man. If I tell Julian, then Silas knows, and if Silas knows, my necklace, the only connection I have to whatever life I used to live before my people died and I was adopted, will be taken from me.

“Yes?”

“Stop breathing over my neck, Julian. I find you incredibly irritating when you do so.”

Julian walks towards me. “I know I can be overbearing, but I only am like that because I care for you, baby. I know how it used to be for you. I don’t want you to go back to the night terrors and the screams, the sleepwalking, the paleness. That’s why I get on your neck so much about it. Don’t be mad at me.” He lifts up my hand and plants a long, drawn out kiss.

“You know I love you, so, so much, Avara.”

Before I can react, his mouth is warm against mine, in the familiar way that should be comforting. He settles into the regular rhythm, and I move my lips accordingly, placing my hands lightly on his shoulders, following the motions out of habit, a performance, really.

I tell myself that this is what love feels like.

Comfortable, reassuring love. My father told me that love doesn’t always have to be invigorating, there is no need for a racing pulse, butterflies in the belly, all that nonsense.

Love is stability. And that is what Julian is.

Still, I don’t understand why something in my chest tightens every time I tell myself that he is my happily ever after.

Julian pulls away reluctantly and looks a bit dazed. He laughs like a little boy as he always does whenever we get intimate.

“Wow, you really are something, Avara.”

His hand moves suggestively towards my tights and I gently pry his hands away. He has tried so many times to take us further than a kiss. I have always resisted, not because I am particularly moral or give two shits about purity before marriage, hell no one in the park gives two shits about that.

I guess I’m just waiting for… I don’t know, for me to feel something. For me to want to do so with Julian. For me to imagine having sex with him and feel something other than coldness.

He sighs and looks ready to get into an argument we have had so many times but decides against it.

He stands up and arranges his hair. “Anyways, I came to tell you that your presence will be required at the Silvermoon hall this evening. Your father is hosting a welcome party of sorts for your long lost brother.” He basically snarls the last few words before storming off.

By evening, the Silvermoon mansion has been completely transformed and the scent of roasting meat and expensive scotch fills the air. I walk down, wearing a green silk gown that reaches my ankles, my hair tied up and my head lowered, just as Silas prefers. I catch a glimpse of Kaeden in a corner, deep in conversation with someone who I immediately recognize to be Elias Kore, the lorekeeper of the pack.

Of course he would be in touch with the man. The lorekeeper controls and holds knowledge of the laws and judgments, precedents and interpretation and history of the werewolf pack. That would be the perfect person to have on your side if you desire a smooth ride into power.

Immediately I step into the hall, Julian appears by my side and slides his hand onto my waist.

“Can you imagine? All this for an idiot prodigal son, coming to claim a throne that he has never worked for, that he has never bled for.”

“Silas is just keeping appearances. He didn’t seem all thrilled and excited when Kaeden returned.”

Kaeden walks in and immediately his dark eyes meet mine. He looks at me for a brief moment, then glares at Julian and walks towards the head table.

I don’t know why it feels like the air gets thicker whenever he looks at me.

I take his presence as my cue to move too, and soon, Julian and I are settled at the head table, sipping wine and feasting on venison.

Silas rises from his seat, a smile on his lips. He lifts his cup and the pack goes silent.

“My pack,” he says warmly, too warmly. “Tonight, we celebrate blood returning to blood.”

He looks at Kaeden who is seated, silent, lips tight, face unreadable.

“My son has finally found his way home. After 15 long years. Long enough for seasons and loyalties to change, for responsibilities to be carried by those who chose to stay and grow with the pack.”

A strange tension fills the air. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and straighten my gown.

Silas doesn’t stop. Instead, he raises his cup a little higher. “It takes courage to return after years of running from responsibility and deem oneself ready and fit to take the ultimate responsibility for the pack. Especially when one has conveniently spared himself from years of discipline, from the harder years of growth, from the necessary sacrifices needed to become a leader.”

Father still has that smile on his lips, and I shiver, immediately coming to terms with the knowledge that Silas does not want to give Kaeden the throne, however certain his birthright may be, and is trying to ensure that the entire pack agrees with his decision.

Now however much I agree with the fact that Kaeden does not deserve the throne and leadership, a deep-seated fear is slowly arising. The order of succession wasn’t just arbitrarily chosen by the pack. It was ordained by the moon goddess.

What happens when a pack chooses to go against it?

“But we are generous people,” Silas continues brightly. “We forgive easily. We welcome openly. And that is our strength.”

A soft reluctant cheer goes through the crowd.

“As we know, some people are born to lead. Others, to wander, to discover who they… truly are, far from duty, far from consequences.”

How that smile has not yet falters even as he spills bile from his mouth, I do not know. And I don’t know whether to be scared or to be intimidated.

“But tonight, we do not dwell on the past.” He lifts his cup fully. “To family. To home. To my long-lost son, finally back to his senses, at just the… perfect time. Cheers!”

Kaeden doesn’t raise his glass.

Before the party properly dies out, Kaeden is out of the hall, and nobody bothers to look for him.

I take my last glass of wine, ready to crash to bed. As I place the cup and move to walk out, I feel a large hand grab mine. I turn to face my father.

“My study, Avara. Now.”