Chapter five-His Wrymling 

The hallway is quiet.

Too quiet.

I walk slowly, one hand against the wall. My reflection stares back at me from the polished stone floors. Pale and dark circles under my eyes. Hair tangled.

I look like a ghost.

But I am alive.

That is more than anyone expected.

The main hall is empty when I reach it. No guards. No servants. Just sunlight streaming through tall windows, dust floating in the golden beams.

I stand there for a moment. Breathing. Listening to the silence.

This castle is enormous. Endless corridors. Hidden doors. Rooms I have never seen.

And no one is watching me.

For the first time since I arrived, no one is watching me.

I should go back to my room. Lock the door. Stay hidden like a good little slave.

But I am tired of being good.

I turn left instead of right. Walk toward a hallway I have never explored.

The castle opens up around me.

I pass a library with books stacked to the ceiling. A dining hall with a table long enough for fifty people. A garden through a glass door, green and wild and overgrown.

No guards. No servants.

Where is everyone?

I keep walking.

The air changes. Colder. Sharper. The stone walls look older here, rougher, like this part of the castle was built first.

Then I hear it.

Metal clashing against metal. Men shouting. Boots stomping in rhythm.

I follow the sound.

The training grounds are behind the castle, carved into the mountainside.

Soldiers fight in pairs. Swords,spears and fists. Sweat and blood soak into the dirt. An instructor barks orders while men scramble to obey.

I stand at the edge of the grounds, hidden in the shadow of a stone archway.

No one notices me.

They are too busy training for a war I did not know was coming.

"Dragons and werewolves," a soldier mutters as he passes by. "Been fighting for centuries. Not gonna stop now."

"Shut up and drill," his commander snaps.

I step back into the shadows.

War.

Cassius is preparing for war.

And I am trapped in the middle of it.

The stables are near the training grounds.

Horses line the stalls. Big animals. Dark coats shining in the afternoon light. They stomp and snort and flick their tails.

I have never ridden a horse before.

Back home, I had guards to carry me everywhere. Carriages. Sedans. Never a horse. My father said it was not proper for a lady of my status.

But I am not a lady of any status anymore.

I am a slave.

And slaves can do whatever they want.

A stable boy notices me staring. He is young. Sixteen maybe. His face is round and friendly.

"You want to try?" he asks.

"Can I?"

He shrugs. "No one told me you could not."

He shows me how to approach the horse. How to let it smell my hand. How to run my palm down its neck so it knows I am not a threat.

"Easy," he says. "They can smell fear."

I am terrified.

But I climb onto the horse anyway.

The animal shifts beneath me. Muscles moving. Breath hot and heavy.

I grip the reins. My knuckles turn white.

"You okay?" the stable boy asks.

"No."

"Want to get down?"

"No."

I squeeze my legs against the horse's sides.

It moves.

One step. Then another. Then we are walking across the stable yard, slow and steady.

I am doing it. I am actually doing it.

For a moment, I forget where I am. Forget who I am. Forget the betrayal and the prison and the wedding night that ruined everything.

I am just a girl on a horse.

Free.

Then the heat comes.

It starts in my chest. A burning,deep and sharp and wrong.

My hands shake. The reins slip.

"Miss?" The stable boy's voice sounds far away. "Are you alright?"

I try to answer. Nothing comes out.

The horse stops. Shifts beneath me.

The heat spreads. Down my arms. Up my neck. Behind my eyes.

Everything goes white.

Then dark,then nothing.

I wake up on the ground.

The stable boy is kneeling beside me, his face pale. Soldiers crowd around, whispering.

"Step back," someone says. "Give her air."

"What happened?" another asks.

"She fainted. Fell right off the horse."

"Is she dead?"

"No, look. She is breathing."

I push myself up on my elbows. My head spins. My stomach lurches.

"I am fine," I say.

No one believes me.

The hospital again.

Same white ceiling. Same white sheets. Same beeping machines.

I am so tired of this place.

The doctor walks in. Same old man. Same tired eyes.

"You gave us quite a scare," he says.

"What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing." He sits on the edge of the bed. "You are exhausted, Miss Ashthorne. Malnourished. Your body is trying to heal itself, but you are not giving it the rest it needs."

"That is all?"

"That is all."

I almost laugh.

All this fear. All this panic. And it is just exhaustion.

"You need to eat more," the doctor continues. "Sleep more. Rest more. Your body has been through trauma. It needs time."

"How much time?"

He shrugs. "Weeks. Maybe months. Everyone heals differently."

Weeks. Months.

I do not have weeks. I do not have months.

I need to escape.

But I nod and smile and thank him like a good patient.

He leaves.

I close my eyes and pretend to sleep.

The door slams open.

I jerk upright.

A woman stands in the doorway. Expensive dress. Diamond earrings. Hair pinned up like she is going to a ball.

Her eyes are on me. Burning.

"You," she says.

"I am sorry," I say. "Do I know you?"

She crosses the room in three steps. Her hand swings.

The slap cracks across my face.

My head snaps to the side. My cheek stings. My ears ring.

"That," she says, "is for breathing the same air as him."

I touch my cheek. Look up at her.

"Who are you?"

"His fiancée." She spits the words like poison. "The woman you are trying to steal from."

Kendal.

I have heard the name whispered by servants. The Alpha's betrothed. The woman who thinks she owns him.

"I am not trying to steal anyone," I say.

"Liar."

"I am a slave. He bought me. I did not ask to be here."

She laughs. Cold. Sharp.

"You think I care what you asked for?" She leans closer. Her breath smells like wine. "You survived his bed. Do you know what that means?"

"It means I am lucky."

"It means he is interested." Her voice drops. "And I do not share."

She raises her hand again.

I do not flinch this time.

"Hit me again," I say quietly. "And everyone in this hospital will know that the great Lady Kendal beats defenseless slaves."

Her hand freezes.

"Who would believe you?" she whispers.

"The nurses. The guards. The doctor." I hold her gaze. "There are witnesses everywhere."

She stares at me. Her chest rises and falls with rage.

Then she smiles.

It is not a nice smile.

"This is not over," she says.

She turns and walks out. Her heels click against the floor. Each step sounds like a threat.

I sit in the silence.

My cheek throbs.

But I am alive.

That is more than she wanted.

Massimus appears an hour later.

He does not knock. Just opens the door and stands there, blocking the light.

"You are being moved," he says.

"Moved where?"

"Back to the castle. The Alpha's orders."

I do not argue. There is no point.

I follow him out of the hospital. Past the nurses who pretend not to stare. Past the guards who pretend not to care.

A black car waits outside.

I get in.

Massimus sits across from me. His face is unreadable.

"Lady Kendal visited you," he says. It is not a question.

"Yes."

"She hit you."

"Yes."

He says nothing else.

But I notice his jaw tighten.

The castle swallows me again.

Same dark hallways. Same golden lights. Same silence pressing against my ears.

The guards at my door step aside when they see me.

"Welcome back, ma'am," one says.

I do not answer.

I push open the door.

And freeze.

Cassius is sitting on my bed.

His elbows rest on his knees. His hands hang loose between his legs. His golden eyes follow me as I walk in.

No anger. No cruelty. Just... watching.

"Close the door," he says.

I do not move.

"Close. The door."

I push it shut. The click echoes through the room.

"Sit," he says.

"I prefer to stand."

His jaw tightens. But he does not argue.

"Where were you?" he asks.

"Hospital."

"I know that. Before the hospital."

"Training grounds."

His eyebrow rises. "Training grounds?"

"I wanted to see the horses."

"Horses."

"Yes. Horses. Is that a crime?"

He stands. Walks toward me;slow and deliberate.

I do not step back.

He stops inches from my face. His body blocks the light. All I can see is him. All I can smell is smoke and leather and something dark.

"You fainted," he says.

"Yes."

"You have fainted twice now."

"Yes."

"The doctor says nothing is wrong with you."

"Yes."

He tilts his head. Studies me like I am a puzzle he cannot solve.

"Then why do you keep collapsing?"

"I do not know."

"Another lie."

"It is the truth."

His hand shoots out. Wraps around my wrist.

I gasp.

His fingers press against my pulse. Feeling. Counting.

"You are lying," he says again.

"I am not."

"Your heartbeat says otherwise."

I try to pull away. He holds tighter.

"What is wrong with you, Emerald?" His voice is low. Rough. "And do not say nothing. I am tired of nothing."

"I do not know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth."

"No." He shakes his head. "You are not. I can feel it. Every time you speak, every time you look at me, every time you breathe—there is something you are hiding."

I say nothing.

His hand moves from my wrist to my stomach.

I stop breathing.

His palm presses flat against the fabric of my dress. Warm. Heavy.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

"Listening."

"To what?"

He does not answer.

His eyes drop to where his hand rests. His brow furrows. His jaw works back and forth.

Then he looks up.

His eyes meet mine.

And he asks the question I cannot answer.

"Why does your heartbeat sound different?"

I open my mouth.

Nothing comes out.

He waits.

The silence stretches between us like a rope about to snap.

"I do not know," I finally say.

It is the truth.

I do not know why my heartbeat sounds different. I do not know why I keep fainting. I do not know why I healed so fast or why my skin burns when he touches me.

I do not know anything anymore.

Cassius stares at me for a long time.

Then he lets go.

Steps back.

"Get some rest," he says.

"That is all you have to say?"

"For now."

He walks to the door. Pauses with his hand on the frame.

"This conversation is not over, Emerald."

He leaves.

The door clicks shut.

I stand in the middle of the room, alone, my hand pressed against my stomach where his hand just was.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears.

Loud. Fast. Different.

He is right.

Something is wrong with me.

I just do not know what.