Chapter 6

Reya

My ribs ache; it feels like I’ve been run over by a truck, and then the person realized they hadn’t finished the job and then reversed and ran me over again.

My eyes are heavy as I slowly blink, staring up at the ceiling. How did I go from the freezing forest to this comfy bed?

I created a shadow sphere. Killian threw himself at me, testing my power, and then it was lights out.

Rolling over, I let out a long groan as every muscle screams at me for moving in the first place. I blink slowly and see a huge tray sitting on the side table. There are thick cuts of meat, hot broth still steaming, and what looks like a soft half-loaf of bread. 

This is easily triple the size of the food I had been given every day since I arrived here. Maybe the strategy now is to fatten me up so that it’s harder for the rogues to take me. Or perhaps the previous strategy was to feed me so little that I would waste away.

I’m an asset now; starving me isn’t logical.

I drag the tray closer, pulling it to the edge of the bed, and I eat greedily as I force myself to sit up, watching snow slide down the window.

The food is good, but it’s hard to swallow as my mind keeps looping back to the forest and my training. I was falling; my legs gave out, and I don’t remember anything.

Someone had to bring me back.

Killian.

He lunged toward me as my legs shook. His hands touched my waist. The faint feeling of his large hands over me sends a chill along my skin.

But he was just inspecting the inventory. That’s all I am to him.

I have to believe that, I think as I chew on a piece of meat.

Northern alphas are basically oversized guard dogs. When they touch things, they mark territory. I’m just a knife that he was grinding down so it wouldn’t rust.

Then, there’s that look in Killian’s eyes. When my shadows touch his aura, his face changes. It’s not only anger, it’s also hunger. It’s something that whispers I know you and it made my lungs stop working.

I finish the broth and set the tray back on the side table. I force my aching body to get out of the bed, moving around the room, trying to work through the pain. I wander around the suite; it’s a nice room, I suppose- I mean, if you like stone walls and drapes that probably haven’t been washed since the council purge, then it’s perfect!

I walk down the short hallway, checking the walls, and I stop at the heavy door at the end. These are Killian’s personal quarters. I pull the brass handle just to test it, expecting it to be locked tight because who leaves their private rooms open to a girl who can turn people to dust?

A click sounds, showing me that it’s open.

“Wow, awesome security,” I murmur to the empty hallway.

I don’t open it; I’m cynical but not suicidal! I stand there, my palm hovering over the carved wood. This is so strange. This man is supposed to be some terrifying warlord, yet he left the back door open. What kind of person keeps their worst secrets right where anyone could just waltz in?

A sharp knock echoes from the main door, and I jump so fast that I nearly trip over the rug. I scramble away from his door and rush to open the main one. A young servant girl stands there holding a heavy wool cloak. She avoids my eyes, looking like she wants to be anywhere else.

She looks down towards my legs as she says, “Uh, Alpha Killian ordered me to take you to the library. You’re supposed to study northern military history.”

“Military history,” I nod my head as I take the cloak, “Sounds great. Lead the way.”

xxx

The history books are so old they have their own body odor. They’re heavy leather with yellow pages that flake under my fingers and enough casual violence to ruin your appetite for a lifetime.

I turn a page and stare at a woodcut illustration of a woman tied to a post while men in council robes stand around holding torches.

This is the Purge.

They didn’t just kill shadow bloods. They turned it into a festival in public squares. It was a huge spectacle with crowds cheering and people probably sold popcorn or roasted nuts while those with shadow powers turned to ash.

My stomach churns.

This was why Killian wanted me looking through all of this. If the council finds out that I’m living here, just five doors away from Killian’s bedroom, they won’t send a polite letter. They would demand my head on a silver platter.

Killian… he’s just an Alpha. He’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t start a war with the continent just to save the strange girl who kept ruining his eastern wall. He would hand me over or he would do the job himself to save his pack.

But I don’t feel scared or like screaming. Instead, I feel a heavy, hollow sort of relief.

The other show had landed right on my face. I had been waiting for the universe to catch up with how ruined my life is, and now it had.

Great.

By the afternoon, the servant girl came back and told me it was time to return to my suite. I walk back to my bedroom and stop in my tracks.

A dress lies on the mattress. It’s midnight blue with silver threads woven through the collar like tiny stars. It’s beautiful. It’s also… ridiculous! Back south, I wore tunics that looked like they had survived a massacre. 

The dress belongs to someone who has never had to scrub the floor.

A note sits beside it with Killian’s handwriting: Wear this for dinner. Don’t be late. - K

“No,” I say with a scoff to the empty room. I cross my arms and shake my head. “Absolutely not!”

A few minutes later, two maids arrive with a basin of warm water and a hairbrush. They look nervous and like they would rather be in any other room but this one.

I try to tell them that I can dress myself, but they ignore me as politely as they can. They pull the fabric over my head, then tug the corset laces so tight that it’s hard for me to take a proper breath. 

“Oh!” The smaller of the two maids whispers in awe as she steps back. She holds out a mirror as she says, “My lady, this is so beautiful on you. The blue makes your eyes look entirely different.”

“Really?” I question as I take the mirror.

The other maid clears her throat, “It complements your eyes wonderfully, ma’am. The silver threading brings out the grey in your eyes. The Alpha chose well.”

I look in the mirror as I murmur, “The Alpha wants me to look like a respectable hostage.”

I pass the mirror back and then run my hands over the silk, smoothing the dress.

This is a tactical decision. I’m only maintaining the illusion of cooperation so that he doesn’t test my shadow defenses again before dinner. This has nothing to do with the fact that the dress fits like a second skin and that I want to see what his face will do when I walk into the dining room.

The dining table is long enough to host a sports team, but it’s just the two of us sitting at opposite ends like we were avoiding a contagion.

Neither of us speaks. The only sound is the silverware clinking against plates. I lift my fork, and I can feel his eyes dropping to my fingers. I take a sip of water, and his gaze follows the movement of my throat.

This is not desire.

Get a grip, Reya, I think to myself.

The silent torture ends, and Killian walks me back toward my suite. The hallway feels narrower than it did this morning. When we reach my door, I turn to say goodnight and instead run straight into his chest. He’s standing too close.

I open my mouth to speak, but he reaches out.

His fingers catch a strand of hair that has fallen from my pins, and he brushes it behind my ear.

I can’t move. My whole body freezes as my heart hammers rapidly in my chest. Under my skin, my shadows stir, waking from the warmth of him. I don’t pull away; I don’t lean in. I’m trapped between the heat of his hand and the cold reminder that wanting a man who looked at me as a weapon is a terrible idea.

He drops his hand. His face goes blank again. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. I swear my heart pounds faster. Then, he speaks, his voice calm and administrative, “Skylar Raver sent a formal request; he will be visiting the Blackwood border in two weeks.”

I blink, “Wonderful, great for him. I’ll make sure to stay in my room.”

“No,” His voice is commanding as his eyes lock onto mine, “You will attend the formal dinner.”

He pauses, then adds, “As my Luna.”

The blood drains from my face, and my body goes cold.

I haven’t seen Skylar since he looked at my sister, then at our fated bond, and decided he wanted the prettier choice. The thought of sitting across from him while I pretend to be Killian’s willing mate makes my stomach churn.

That thought hurts more than I want to admit.

“No,” I whisper, “I won’t do that.”

“You will,” he answers simply, then turns and walks down the dark corridor.

I scramble inside, shut my door, and lean against it. My breathing is ragged, and my mind races through escape plans.

Two weeks. I can climb down the tower. I can steal a horse and run into the woods. The wolves would likely eat me, which sounds better than facing my ex.

I look down at my hands, trying to stop the shaking, and I freeze.

In the dim light, the shadows are pooling on my palms. They’re not forming defensive bubbles. They’re… swirling. Shifting. They’ve never done this before. They settle into a shape.

Killian’s face.

A wave of clarity hits me so hard I can barely breathe. Running isn’t an option; it never was. Some broken part of me chose to stay.

I slide down the door until my knees touch my chest. I press both hands over my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as I hold back a sob.