Chapter 1
As I stood on the balcony staring at my bloodied hands, I couldn't help but think about suicide. This was something I felt every night when I visited my tower balcony. Looking down below, the world tilted around me.
The sight of blood and deep cuts would have put my nursemaid into a panic. The thought of her—
No, I must not think about her. Not her. Not Papa.
Leaning forward, I closed my eyes as I tested the iron railing. The drop below was swallowed by darkness. No guards watched my tower at this hour. No one was going to stop me now.
But then voices began. There were whispers at first, followed by screams. Faces materialized in my mind, faces of innocent slaves that were killed.
"Murderer."
"Cursed one!"
"You're just like the Alpha."
My breathing quickened as their voices grew louder in my ears.
"You deserve to die."
A man stood before me, his face dripping with blood. A deep gash split his forehead open, with an axe still buried above his left eye. The moonlight shone across his forehead.
Suddenly, he took a step forward, lifting a hand toward my face.
I stumbled backward with a choked scream. My heel caught the hem of my nightgown, and the world swayed.
Warm hands caught me from behind before I could fall.
"Princess."
I didn't need to turn around to recognize the voice of my old nursemaid. She swirled me around, pulling me into warm arms. For a moment, I wasn't overwhelmed with guilt. I felt small and safe, held away from the blood and the voices. Tears burned my vision as I pressed my body against hers.
When I finally pulled back, she gasped.
"Odessa." Her eyes fell on the cuts across my wrists. "What have you done, child?"
"I… it was an accident…" I stuttered.
When she looked at me, I saw the grave understanding in her eyes. She knew what had happened.
"Was it another nightmare?" she asked softly.
"They're not nightmares." My voice broke. "They're real. They call me a murderer, that I'm just like him. That I deserve to die. That if I don't hurt myself, they'll kill you."
Sylvia's expression turned sad as she ushered me back into my room and sat me before the mirror. After retrieving the bandages from the cabinet, she began to clean the blood from my hands.
"Am I a monster?" I whispered.
She froze. I waited for her to tell me the truth. That I was just like Alpha Magnus. The truth that humans bellowed at me before they died, killed by him.
"Hush." She knelt before me as she tended to my wrists. "You and Alpha Magnus are two different people. You're a sweet, gentle soul who hides her face behind a veil." My gaze drifted to the long black cloth hanging on the wall. "But he is…"
Her hands quivered, but she quickly tucked them behind her.
"Dangerous," I finished for her. "He is a monster."
She didn't scold me. Instead, she shifted her focus to my hands.
"Let's get this covered up."
I watched Sylvia work the bandage around my wrists with gentleness. It had been years now, but Sylvia hadn't changed one bit. She'd been with me for ten years, since the day Alpha Magnus found me in the streets of the lower city.
I didn't remember my life before nine, but back then I was begging for coins like other human children. I was different in ways that made my own people despise me. To them, I was cursed.
One of them had struck me for pushing through the crowd that day, and the others turned against me.
That was when the Alpha's carriage passed.
He stepped down to see the humans, an event that never happened. He lifted me in his arms, told me to close my eyes, and then he covered my ears with his large hands and whispered to me that I was safe. When he told me to open my eyes, everyone was dead. The street ran with their blood. I screamed until I fainted.
He took me home to the castle. Adopted me as his daughter. He gave me a tower room and anything I desired. He spoiled me lavishly and blinded me with wealth. But that didn't mean I didn't see the torture of humans. The human slaves hung from the castle walls every morning. The sound of their screams from the dungeons.
After a few months, he gave me the veil. To protect you from the world, he would often say.
"Good night," Sylvia said, tucking the blanket around me.
She pressed a kiss on my forehead and let my eyes drift closed before leaving the room.
When she was gone, I rose and walked to the mirror. Even after all these years, my reflection still startled me. I understood why Father wanted me veiled.
My skin was dark, but patches of pale pigment spread across my face and body. The healers called it skin discoloration, though mine was severe. It bled into my hair, bleaching it white.
My eyes were perhaps the strangest and rarest feature in the entire pack. One was a deep black, while the other was so pale it appeared white. My iris was barely visible against it.
The entire right side of my face was covered with scarring, thick, textured tissue that ran from my temple down to my jaw. It had a mottled and reptilian appearance. The skin in some places was pulled taut and puckered.
King Magnus had brought every healer in the pack to examine it. It wasn't a burn or an injury that had healed poorly. The scarring looked like it was a part of me. Like I was born like this. It made everyone wonder what had happened before my nine years. And who were my birth parents?
Slowly, I traced the scars with my fingers, following the terrain. Why couldn't I remember my life before nine, no matter how hard I tried?
As the questions circled my mind, a sudden scream broke the silence.