King Malric's executioner

He towered over me, his face hard with dangerous brutality. His eyes were cold and feral, the deadliness palpable in them.

The more he looked at me, the more I could feel the rage in his gaze. He looked at me like he wanted to cross the distance and strangle me to death.

He was the Lycan Prince — King Malric's executioner.

My eyes lowered to his hands, to the thick veins bulging against his skin. The same hands had drenched in the blood of the innocent so deeply that no amount of clean water could wash away the stain. I stared at the same hands that had tortured and murdered my people to death.

Terror welled inside me at the memory of my dead family. I gasped, unable to handle the shock.

Before I could react, he was already advancing on me. I quickly moved to the side, grabbing whatever my hands could reach. When I looked, I was holding a small bread knife.

"Do not come any closer," I warned.

"Is this what you have to offer?" he asked, staring at me for a moment. "You think this would be able to stop me?"

Closing the distance between us, I extended the knife, glaring at him with enough threat to send him off, but he reached for it and grabbed it. Blood slowly seeped from his palm, and his eyes darkened.

"I have met many werewolves just like you. And I relished the feeling of breaking them down until they were nothing beneath me."

"Let me go!" I struggled against him. The Prince didn't so much as budge. His Lycan strength was immense, unlike anything I'd witnessed before. My hands trembled with pain against his.

Just when I thought I'd loosened his grip, he shoved me back with such force it tore a gasp from my throat.

Yanking the knife from my hand, he frowned, staring at his bleeding palm as it began to heal on its own.

"Strip," he commanded.

"What?" I cocked my head.

"Strip," he said again, more authority in his tone. "Isn't that the reason you came here? To be bred?"

"I'm not stripping," I snapped, even though I knew death was around the corner.

The rule Sylvia had laid out surfaced and echoed in my mind. Resisting Lucian would result in punishment. But still, I couldn't bear the thought of going naked in front of him. For a person I despised so much, I would rather be killed than be bred by him.

"I'm not repeating myself."

"And what makes you so special that I'd strip in front of you when I already refused once?" I later wished I hadn't uttered a single word, because his eyes darkened with silent rage.

Lucian raised his hand and closed it around my neck. I struggled against his grip, my eyes fixed on an object lying within my hand's reach. Without warning, I picked it up and slammed it across his head, hard. It caught him off guard, causing him to release my neck as he staggered backward.

He lifted his hand to his bleeding head, and a small smirk formed at the corner of his lips. I was doomed.

"You audacious, feisty little thing."

I gulped. There was no escaping him now. There was nothing that could save me. No matter how many times I hit him or struggled against him, he still stood there, unaffected.

I wished I had my arrow. A single shot straight to his heart would do the work of taking him down instantly.

His hand slowly trailed across my face, making my skin crawl with disgust.

"Should I call this bravery or foolishness? Hitting me not just once but twice?"

A knock on the door interrupted him before he could threaten me more.

"What?"

As hard as I tried to hold myself together, I was scared, painfully aware of every disadvantage I had right now.

"The King would like to speak with you at once," the person at the door relayed.

Without saying a word or so much as glancing at me, he turned and walked toward the door. Once he was gone, I exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against my pounding chest.

Stepping outside the room, I found a burly guard standing there.

"The Princess ordered me to show you where you'll spend your night," he said, and without a word, I followed him.

We arrived at a room occupied by six narrow beds. Most of the beds were already occupied by sleeping females.

Finding an empty bed, I walked toward it and lay down carefully. Every muscle in my body ached with exhaustion. Turning to my side, I noticed a girl lying beside me, her eyes open, staring back at me. I recognized her. She was Manon, the girl I'd met in Sylvia's room.

"Hi." Just as the word left my mouth, she turned her head to the other side, hissing low.

Morning came with a small, soft sound, forcing me to peel my eyes open.

"Mama?"

"Mama? Mama, please don't let them take me," the girl cried out.

Snapping my head toward the voice, I found a young girl crouched near the bed, rocking and muttering those words over and over again.

One of the girls lying on the bed stood up and rushed over to her. I stood up and walked toward her as well.

"Shh… Hannah."

But Hannah was completely gone, staring blankly as if she didn't know where she was, still muttering those words in a chillingly childlike voice.

"Lower your voice, Hannah. The guards are going to hear you."

"Hannah." Another girl softly cupped her face. "It's just a dream, honey. You need to come back."

"Mama, please don't let them take me away," she cried out.

"Hannah, stop it. You'll draw the guards' attention," the first girl said.

"It's okay." I held her soft, cold hand, whispering to her.

Suddenly, someone shoved us hard to the side, and when I looked, it was Manon walking toward the girl. She raised her hand and struck the girl hard across the face, the sound cracking through the room like a whip.

"Your Mama isn't here," Manon said bluntly. "She's dead."

Hannah went still. Her head dropped, shoulders shaking in small sobs. She slowly lifted her face, and as she did, her eyes burned with tears.

“I'm sorry.” She cried.

Without a word, only holding Hannah's gaze for a moment, Manon turned and walked away.

Within a few minutes, the girls had scattered. They lined up to bathe, and by the time it was my turn and I came out of the bathroom, the room had emptied, the girls off to their routines.

When I arrived at the kitchen, where two of the girls already were, I caught sight of the young girl who had first approached Hannah to calm her down.

Her eyes widened when she saw me. "Are you just coming out?"

"Yes. What happened?"

"You haven't taken Her Highness's tea to her room?" she said, raising a brow. "You're late."

My stomach tightened as I realized Sylvia had assigned me to bring her tea every morning before she left her room.

Grabbing the kettle, I moved swiftly and prepared the tea. Within five minutes, I was hurrying upstairs with the tray, praying to the goddess she wouldn't be angry.

I knocked once and stepped into the room. Sylvia had her back to me, and slowly she turned. As she did, her red eyes were full of ice.

"Turn around."