Ruby Red Goblets Novels & Stories

Others were newer, clearly made to impress the foreign nobles whose colors now filled the hall. A server offered me a plate. I selected a bit of everything: honey-roasted boar glazed in rosemary and smoke, wildroot mash laced with garlic and herbs, savory seedbread, crisp mountain greens with lemon pine dressing. “Try this one,” Tyler said, nodding to a goblet filled with glistening crimson. “Moonberry wine. Reserved only for bond ceremonies.” I took the glass. The wine was dark and rich, sweet at first but followed by a burn that settled somewhere deep in my chest. My fingers curled tighter around the stem. Tyler watched me with a quiet intensity, like he was memorizing the moment.

“Devotion. Damnation. And hopefully… an ending worth being written about.” They exchanged glances, unease rippling through the room. But none of them stopped me. No one ever did. I found the goblets that lined the scriptorium shelves, relics from a hundred forgotten rituals. Dusty, gold, rimmed with runes that still pulsed faintly with power. I poured the wine carefully, the crimson liquid thick as blood, catching the candlelight like a promise—or a threat. Lucian was closest. Of course he was. He always hovered near the fire, near me, pretending not to.

The air within the Ironfang Pack’s stronghold was charged with anticipation. The Great Hall, usually a place of familial warmth and ancestral pride, had been transformed into a space of deliberate diplomacy. Anya's runic goblet rested on a central pedestal, its etched surface gleaming softly, a silent testament to the legacy they fought to uphold. Around it, carefully arranged, were Elder Marcus’s scrolls and Anya’s personal trinkets – the carved wooden bird, a worn leather-bound journal, each item a fragment of her wisdom and spirit.

"You think it's unusual, don't you, daughter?" I dragged my eyes from the sight and turned to him, then replied. "You did say the moon hasn't shined this brightly in a hundred years." He leaned towards me as though sharing a secret, then whispered in my ear. "Maybe the Moon Goddess is also celebrating with you. It's your Turning Feast, after all." I snorted. "Since when has the Moon Goddess ever cared about the affairs of one single person?" My father laughed. "You've always been a feisty one. Good thing you've Turned now. It's high time we found you a man who would be able to tame you. Perhaps Alpha Alexander over there?" He pointed.

I couldn't do anything whilst they were in danger. "I would like to introduce you all to my female." Drax says, announcing my presence to the room. "As you all know she is quite special, the Red wolf. A gift from Selene herself. But, she is mine and if anyone touches her. You'll have me to deal with. Do I make myself clear?" the whole room answers in unison. "Yes alpha!" Drax nods, "You may all eat." He says in a stale voice, as though he'd rather be somewhere else or is bored. He turns to me and hands me a plate, motioning to the blonde haired wolf. "You have already met Christian, my beta."

He appeared at the center of the Golden Plains, sitting on a throne made of woven wheat and rusted iron. Aethelred was the most human-looking of the brothers. He wore robes of burnt-sienna and a crown of dry, jagged brambles. His eyes were the color of a setting sun—a weary, satisfied orange. He held a scythe made of "Aether-Glass," its blade shimmering with the souls of the shifters he had already "reaped" from the distant archipelagoes.

So familiar, but exotic in a way I couldn't even begin to explain. I just stood, staring out the door like an absolute idiot, taking in the God at my doorstep. I couldn't take my eyes off his own. A deep-set swirling violet tinted with the darkest ebony black was confined to the irises of his eyes. It almost trapped me, like hands made from the illusory magic that seemed to pull me in.

Crystal goblets brimmed with drinks in every jewel tone — ruby-red elixirs, sapphire-blue cordials, golden mead that seemed to hum softly if you listened closely. The people were almost as dazzling as the décor. Velvet gowns trailed like rivers, silks clung like water, and threads of gold and silver caught the light with every movement. The men were just as shamelessly adorned, their tunics heavy with embroidery, some wearing crowns or circlets far too ostentatious for a mere guest. It was beautiful — yes — and utterly exhausting. “I suppose this is her way of saying she’s still our benevolent ruler,” I murmured to Diana. “Throw enough wine and sugared peaches at people, and they’ll forget y

All eyes were on the stone as I made my way forward as well, at least wanting to get a closer look at the priceless artifact. “All we need now is the sacrifice and the incantation.” Duvall was next to me again, his hand holding a goblet filled with the deep red wine. “Pity that it’s going to be that girl they brought. With eyes and skin like that; she’d be a welcome bitch to my collection.” He tisked as the stone was now in front of us, catching in the light and sending shippers here and there. “A shame.” I wasn’t really listening to the male now, my eyes taking in every molecule of the precious gem.

, I asked him instead rather than replying to the question. “I’m a North Korean defector. Does it interest you enough?” Interestingly enough that made me speechless. I decided to look at him carefully looking at his expression which nothing is even plastered on his face, and said, “It’s the “Red Scarlet.” I was here to bid for the rare item of the night, the “Red Scarlet”. It is worth than the value of the famous French Queen, Marie Antoinette’s treasured necklace of which I have also won during an auction in Bordeaux, France. The 26 oval-shaped pigeon-blood Burmese rubies that weigh 1.27 to 5.38 carats were strategically placed to create a floral effect that would make any other lady be in