Mm 2
Riven
The wound at my throat still burned. I had washed it thrice in scalding water, pressed salves of wolfsbane and sage into it, yet the mark refused to fade. Even now, beneath the stiff collar of my tunic, I could feel it, like a brand.
The memory of that cold hand upon my skin returned without mercy and I longed to claw the flesh from my throat to rid myself of it.
The image that had plagued me for a month returned with cruel persistence, clawing its way to the forefront of my mind.
Dark long hair that fell in waves around a face that held ethereal beauty. Skin that was pale under the moonlight on that battlefield, High cheekbones that were carved to perfection, sharp jawline and reduced lips that hid his fangs that were ready to be buried into the neck of any unfortunate soul that crosses its path.
And his eyes, those predatory crimson red eyes that glowed in the dark.
I forced myself to look away from the window of the carriage, fists tightening until my knuckles cracked. The memory refused to loosen its grip, as if somehow, Silas had carved himself into my flesh with his fingers.
"Damn him," I muttered under my breath.
I hadn't been expecting him on the battlefield but still, it should have been simple. Strike him down, end him and claim victory for the wolves. But his hand had pinned me to that tree instead with more strength than should belong to anyone. He could have killed me then and there. Instead, he left me marked, alive and shamed.
Why? The question haunted me more than the scar itself. Killing me would have been the same as destroying my father's backbone for I was his heir. It would have given the vampires the upper hand in the battle because once the leader of the pack was dead the pack goes into confusion and confusion on a battlefield is very unfavorable. Why had he spared me?
"Still brooding?" Came a voice from across the carriage, snapping me out of my thoughts.
My Beta, Kael, sat opposite me, watching with the calm scrutiny he always wore. His blonde hair was tied back, his polished armor that had been gleaming when we first started this journey now dulled with the dust of our travel.
He was my best friend. We grew up together and when it came the time for me to pick a Beta, the man who will watch my back, I picked him without hesitation and he never gave me a reason to regret it, until now.
"You would brood as well," I growled, "If your enemy's hand had been at your throat."
Thankfully, Silas took me far away from the battle. If not, I don't know how I would face my people if everything that occurred that night happened in their presence. Kael was almost going crazy with fear when I stumbled back, bleeding from my throat. He'd been shocked. He was the only one who knew what happened. I've been hiding the scar from my father while looking for ways to make it disappear.
"Perhaps," he said evenly, "But your scowl is wasted. We ride not to war, my Alpha, but to peace."
"Peace," I spat the word as though it was poison on my tongue. "Do you know what peace means, Kael? It means bowing our heads to blood-drinkers who think of themselves as gods."
Kael leaned forward, lowering his voice though only our ears were present. I knew he didn't want the others outside to hear, given that they could because of our heightened awareness.
"It means survival. You will attend the Academy. You will keep your temper. You will play nice, for the sake of all wolves. It's your father's command,"
A low growl tore from my throat before I could stop it, vibrating through the carriage walls. Kael raised his hands in mock surrender, lips quirking at the edges though his eyes remained aglow with amusement.
"Temper," he reminded me.
I turned my gaze back to the window, jaw aching from the effort of restraint. Outside, the world rolled by in shades of green and gray. The cobbled road wound between thick woods. In the distance, the peaks of the Academy rose from the mist, its towers jagged. A prison more than a school.
Every four years, the young royals of the supernatural clans were dragged here to learn discipline, to forge bonds, to bleed together for the sake of peace. I had been forced to endure five of such gatherings already. According to my father, attending means making friends in high places and building connections.
After the news spread throughout all of the supernatural kingdom that I met Silas during a battle, the Seven Elders who represented the ruler from each kingdom decided that they've had enough of our fight.
They were scared that one day Silas might kill me or I might kill him and our fathers would really wage a full blown war against each other that would affect other kingdoms so they order us to this stupid academy to make peace with each other.
This year, I was ordered to pretend. My father's words echoed like steel in my skull: "Win the vampire's trust. Play his game, learn his weakness. When the time comes, I will crush them."
My gut turned at the memory. To act as though I sought peace, when all I longed for was the taste of victory on my tongue, it was a cruel jest.
At least, I thought bitterly, the youngest vampire prince would not come. He never did. For five gatherings, Silas had hidden himself away, too proud to mingle with those he deemed beneath him. He's never attended the academy, not even once. He would never obey this other even if it was a royal decree.
The carriage rattled to a halt, breaking me out of my musings.
Kael straightened. "We have arrived."
I forced my hand to release its grip on the armrest. The door creaked open, and the damp chill of the air seeped into the carriage but it did nothing to me. Werewolves burned hot.
The courtyard spread before us, vast and gray. Cobblestones slick with morning dew, banners of seven clans fluttering from iron poles. Wolves in dark cloaks, fae shimmering like glass, demons with eyes of fire. The world's heirs gathered here, all of us bound by treaties older than time.
Kael stepped down first, offering a hand. I ignored it, leaping from the carriage in a single stride. The crowd parted as I passed, some bowing, others sneering.
"Remember," Kael murmured, walking beside me, "Play nice."
I answered with a grunt that promised nothing.
Inside the great hall, the air reeked of oil lamps and sweat. Servants bustled, carrying scrolls and ledgers, guiding each royal to their quarters. Kael disappeared for a time, speaking with a steward. When he returned, he carried two slips of parchment.
"Our rooms," he said, handing me one. "Yours is beside mine. Not far from the training yard."
I nodded, relief loosening my shoulders. At least I won't be sharing a room with him or anyone else this year. I'd have my peace and not be forced to make conversations I didn't want to.
My thoughts drifted to the prince again. Pale lip, crimson eyes...
Surely he would not come. Surely he—
A scent stopped me in my tracks. Faint, yet unmistakably familiar. It was one I never wanted to perceive ever again yet here it was again—the scent of wild-berries and smoke.
My heart slammed once, twice. No, it couldn't be. It had to be my imagination because I was thinking about him. It had to be. He'd told me I'd remember him and I've not been able to stop thinking about him since that night a month ago.
But the closer I drew to my chamber door, the stronger it grew, coiling around me like a vise and causing me to almost choke. The scar on my neck throb, as if responding to the scent of the man that had put it there.
I stood before the door, staring at its iron handle. My hands trembled, not from fear, but from rage and bitterness.
Kael glanced at me. "Riven?"
"Leave me," I barked.
His brows rose, but thankfully he saw I was not in the mood and he obeyed, retreating into his own room.
I forced my breath to steady, shoved down the storm that howled within, and pushed open the door. The sight that met me stole the air from my lungs.
There were twin beds in the room and one of the beds was already occupied.
Silas lay sprawled across it as though the room belonged to him, long body draped in a black robe so dark it seemed to drink the light. His hair spilled like ink over the pillows, framing a face too flawless to be mortal. Crimson eyes slid open, finding me at once, and his lips, red, mocking, sinful, curved into a smile that promised destruction.
"Hello, little wolf," he drawled, voice as smooth as velvet.
And just like that, the mark at my throat blazed with fire.