Chapter 5

ELYSIA’S POV

I leaned back into my shoulders, my feet moderate as I was ushered into the grand feasting hall. The warmth of the fire should have been soothing, but there was nothing soothing about being here.

I barely had time to breathe before his hand was at my back. "Come," Danearo murmured. "Sit with me."

It wasn’t a request.

I hesitated for half a second… his fingers tightened, merely closed, reminding me that there was no choice to be made. I swallowed hard.

He led me to the head of the table, settling himself like a king before gesturing. "Sit."

I moved toward the chair beside him.

But the moment I shifted to take the seat, his arm went around my waist pulling me onto his lap. I gasped.

The murmurs stopped.

My pulse hammered, but I forced myself to sit still, back rigid. fingers clasped in my lap, every cell of my body attuned to the intent eyes of the pack while his grip stayed casual, almost lazy, but I wasn’t fooled.

"Relax," he exhaled against my ear. "Indulge in the banquet. I have plans for later." Later? What plans?

A shiver crawled down my spine.

A servant poured a deep red wine into his goblet. He lifted it smoothly, gaze traveling to mine. "Drink," he told me, lifting his goblet. "You will discover it… stimulating."

I hesitated.

His fingers brushed my thigh.

"I won’t ask again."

Silently, I took the goblet and forced myself to sip. The taste was rich.

He watched me, his mouth twisting ever so slightly—amusement. He turned his eyes from me then to his warriors, speaking in a low tone.

I set the goblet down, not daring to glance at the knotting of my guts. Then—his hand moved again.

Under the table. Against my thigh.

I locked my legs together—his fingers barely paused before pressing just slightly harder. "Tense," he noted, amused. "Are you afraid?"

I lifted my chin. "No." A lie.

He chuckled softly.

He lifted his goblet once more.. "Feed," he breathed.

I wasn't hungry.

But I lifted my fork anyway. Then—the doors swung open. "I apologize for being late."

The voice cut through the noise.

The goblet in my hand nearly slipped. I recognize that voice.

I turned stiffly, feeling the world tilt beneath me.

Killian stood in the doorway.

Tall. Dressed in dark leather, white brooch holding the dark green cape at his shoulder. One of my betrotheds, who'd left after finding out I couldn't bear children and the husband before him had died under strange circumstances.

His gaze swept the room—and landed on me. His entire body locked up.

"Ely?"

He lifted his goblet smoothly, behind me. "Killian." Killian didn’t move. His eyes were still glued to me.

"I was told you had taken a new breeder, my lord." he said carefully. "I wasn’t expecting—" Killian didn’t finish.

He didn’t have to.

Behind me he exhaled lazily, his hand still resting firmly on my waist.

"Come." He gestured toward an empty seat beside him. "I kept a place for you." Killian’s jaw ticked.

His eyes traveled to where I sat—on Danearo’s lap. I swallowed.

"She belongs to you?"

His fingers drummed lightly against my hip. "She is mine."

Something flashed on Killian's face? I hated it.

Danearo hummed, sipping his wine. "You look tense, old friend."

Killian didn’t move to sit.

"Old habit I guess. How did this happen?"

"I chose her," he said simply. "As I choose everything that belongs to me." Killian’s throat worked as he swallowed.

"You never told me Danearo."

Danearo. Not bad. Potentially means 'noble.' "Would it have changed anything?"

Silence.

Then, finally—Killian moved toward his seat. Danearo flexed slightly against my waist.

"Join me Killian," he mused. "We celebrate tonight." A long pause.

Then—Killian finally sat. The room felt smaller now.

Killian sat stiffly beside us, not the easy posture of a man enjoying himself with a friend. No, this was not that.

His goblet was full, but he did not raise it.

Instead, his hand loosely encircled the goblet, his thumb pinging once, twice, against the rim. Then his gaze darted my way.

Danearo noticed it.

He lounged back in his chair, his hand on my waist, his demeanor lax. Killian interrupted the silence with a cough.

"The thief you were chasing," he said at last. "He was apprehended this morning, near the western border."

Danearo hummed, following the lazy curve of my thigh with a hand. "Alive?" "For the moment." Killian was still not meeting his eyes.

Danearo's hand paused. For only a moment.

Killian moved his weight back a little, rolling his shoulders. "I had my men bring him to the dungeons. He's being questioned as we speak."

Danearo exhaled through his nose, almost in approval. "Good." His hand returned to its easy stroke against my leg. "Did he fight?"

"Nothing worth mentioning," Killian murmured, at last raising his goblet. He drank slowly, his eyes flashing over me around the rim.

And that was when Danearo truly noticed.

A slow smirk creased at the corner of his mouth.

"It seems you’ve taken quite a liking to my breeder, Killian. You’ve been staring at her since you walked in.”

Heat prickled along my spine, but I kept my face carefully blank, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Killian’s grip tightened slightly around his goblet. “No my lord, She merely looks… familiar.” Danearo's sneer did not lose heart. If anything, it widened.

"Familiar?" he echoed, drawing out the word as if spitting it around his mouth. “How interesting.” I reached for my goblet before I caught myself. Then I tilted my head back, and drank it down.

Danearo's brows creased a little, surprised. I set the goblet down with a soft clink. “More please,” I whispered to him.

The silence that followed was instant.

Killian's face went red, but it was Danearo's reaction that sent my flesh crawling. His eyes swept across me, as if he were reconsidering.

Then, with a gentle laugh, he held out his hand.

A servant rushed forward, filling my goblet once more.

Danearo's hand grazed mine, near coincidence. "Gently, human," he murmurs, "Drink too much, and you might end up enjoying yourself."

I took hold of the goblet in my fingers, clasping it securely by the stem. My pulse pounded, but I kept a flat face as I lifted it again.

More servants entered, carrying heavy platters. A whole pig, skin roasted brown, was laid at the center of the table, surrounded by bowls of skewered fowl, and thick slabs of cured beef.

The wolves dug in, tearing through them.

Killian reached for his knife, slicing through a portion of meat as he brought the first bite to his mouth without hesitation.

Danearo, however, took his time.

His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade, slicing cleanly through the roasted pork. I stiffened as he speared the piece on the tip of his knife.

Then, he turned to me. Holding it out.

“Eat.”

I hesitated.

Danearo’s free hand rested lightly against my thigh. I swallowed hard, parting my lips just enough.

The steel of the blade brushed against my tongue as he slid the meat between my lips. I bit down, tasting the juices.

Chewed. Swallowed.

Danearo watched me the entire time. Bringing another to my mouth. My pulse thundered, as I lifted my chin and reached for my goblet. Then—Killian spoke.

“Ever heard the story of the cursed infant? My lord?” I froze, my fingers tightening around my cup.

Danearo’s hand stilled.

Killian’s gaze moved between us before settling on me.

“A girl born with bright eyes and pale skin—a harbinger of misfortune.” My breath hitched.

I tried to take another sip of wine, but my hands were shaking so much, I feared Denaro would notice.

“A second daughter,” Killian continued, dragging out the words, as if he were plucking them carefully, one by one. “Born under a powerful lord’s rule. Unwanted, unfortunate.”

Danearo’s fingers flexed against my leg.

The meat in my mouth suddenly felt too thick to chew.

Killian’s voice didn’t limp. He wasn’t speaking to Danearo anymore. He was speaking to me.

“Many men came before her.” I set my goblet down too hard.

“Betrothed. Bargained for. Sold like cattle.” A sharp inhale. Mine.

Danearo’s thumb brushed my wrist. Killian exhaled slowly.

“Yet none stayed.”

The words landed like a blade.

“Some passed under strange circumstances before the wedding day.” A pause. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Others disappeared.” My throat closed.

Danearo finally spoke.

“And the rest?” His voice was dangerously smooth.

Killian lifted his goblet, taking a slow sip before answering.

“The rest changed their minds, ran for their dear lives.” His eyes landed mine.

“One after the other. The first time, they called it bad luck. The second, coincidence. The third?” A jerk of his wrist. “A curse.”

I swallowed thickly.

The piece of meat lodged in my throat.

I reached for my goblet, gulping down the wine, but it only made the burn worse. The room felt smaller.

Danearo chuckled softly.

“No sane man would wish for a wife who could not bear his heir,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along the inside of my wrist. “And no father would love a daughter who could not strengthen his lineage.”

I gulped.

Killian stared at me. Then, he spoke.

“I remember the first time I saw her.” I stiffened.

Killian continued.

“Tiny. Fragile. Beautiful.” He exhaled, swirling his goblet. “And her father… Well, he didn’t look at her twice.”

The air in my lungs thinned.

Danearo’s head tilted slightly. Listening.

Killian wasn’t staring at Danearo. He was still looking at me.

“She was given everything. The best tutors. The finest dresses. Gifts from suitors who thought they could have her.”

The wolves at the table grew quiet.

Killian’s smirk was bitter. “They all ran. Every last one of them.” Danearo’s fingers flexed slightly. “You speak as if you knew her.” Killian took a slow sip of wine. “I did, or should I say I do.”

The room froze. Danearo went still.

Everything inside me cracked, wrapping tight around my ribs, squeezing, suffocating. I wanted him to stop.

But he did not.

“Afterall, I was one of them, wasn’t I?” Killian mused, setting his goblet down with a clink. “One of the men who came with promises. One of the men who left.”

Danearo's entire body locked up, trying to puzzle up everything.

Then Killian leaned back slightly, tilting his head. “Tell me, Elysia—” His voice softened. “Do you remember?”

I gulped really hard then something inside me snapped. My fingers closed around the knife on the table.

Before I could think— Before I could stop—

I drove it into my stomach.