“Then you are dismissed,” the King said, eyeing me as a wicked smirk twisted his lips.
I knew then that he’d do it—that he’d kill me, or worse, if I didn’t play along. This was the leader of our pack, the father to us all, and he’d just admitted to wishing me dead.
I bobbed my head in a halfhearted bow and left. I tried to steady my breath and failed. Gods, I’d been so naive. I wanted to ram my dagger straight through King Nero, but with four guards waiting at the door and Grae at his back, I couldn’t do it.
My thoughts spiraled as I walked down the narrow servant’s corridor back toward my sister’s chambers. No guards followed me this time. No torch guided me through the windowless halls as the darkness filled me. Thoughts darted through my mind too fast to hold on to . . . apart from one: I had to protect my sister from that monster of a king. Briar was my only pack now.
Footsteps echoed behind me and I knew who followed by his telltale gait. It sounded the same on four paws, quick and lumbering, like a bear barreling through the forest.
“Little fox,” Grae’s voice pleaded.
“Don’t you dare call me that.” I sped up, turning down another darkened corridor, unsure if it was the right way.
“Please. Talk to me.”
“You didn’t seem to want to talk when your father called me a runt,” I snarled, racing across the gray stones. “Or when he threatened to hurt my sister and kill me.”
Grae’s hand grabbed for my elbow and I whirled. Faster than he could lift his hand, I punched him hard in the jaw. My knuckles barked in protest, but I wasn’t done. I lashed out again, but he caught my forearm, trying to spin me back against his chest. I moved, pretending he was overpowering me so that I could kick him in the knee. He dropped my arm as he pivoted to keep me from breaking the joint and I dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch and snatching my knife from my boot.
Thank the Gods for Vellia and her training—I never carried just one weapon. Grae stooped as if to help me up and I lurched forward, making him stumble back into the wall as I pinned him in place with my knife.
His eyes went wide as he held up his hands. The tip of my blade bit into the flesh of his neck. With the slightest pressure, I knew the skin would break. With more pressure still, he’d be dead.
His surprise morphed as his lips parted into a smile and his eyes scanned my face. “Only you would dare put a knife to my throat.”
He was the son of the King, the second rank in our pack, and I was threatening to slit his throat. If anyone caught us, it would be enough to have me killed, or at the very least scarred like those Wolves in the great hall. No one threatened the pack . . . apart from its king.
Grae’s cheeks dimpled, and my eyes snagged on his mouth before my simmering rage pulled me back.
“You knew. This whole time, you knew, didn’t you?” I hissed, searching his eyes for an explanation. My gaze caught on the purpling bruise along his cheekbone. “Is that what you were trying to tell me?”
“No, I—”
“No, you weren’t going to tell us of your father’s true intentions?” I pressed my knife lower against his windpipe. “That the truth of who I am would live and die with me?”
Grae didn’t respond—couldn’t—the knife digging into his throat. I knew I should run away. This was a quick and dirty move, not one for having a conversation. He could easily overpower me if he was fast enough, but Grae didn’t move. I eased the pressure from him and he took a gasping breath.
“Thank you,” he rasped, touching a hand to his neck as I retreated to the far side of the hall.
I kept my blade aloft, pointed at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Grae shook his head, his face filled with regret. “I didn’t think he’d deny you like this.”
“Really?” I scowled. “Because I’ve known the man for a handful of minutes, and none of this surprises me.”
“I wanted to tell you, Calla, I did, but . . .”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “But?”
He rubbed a hand down his face. “I . . . I’ve always felt protective of you and I worried—”
“Well, you’ve done a great job protecting me.” The hilt of the knife bit into my clenched fist. “I didn’t need a protector, Grae.” I nodded to the red mark on his neck, flipping my knife over in my fingers and sheathing it back in my boot. “What I needed was a friend.”
I refused to let him see the tears welling in my eyes. Damn those tears. He had been my friend, but only for a few dozen moons as a child and nothing more. I’d become blinded by his handsomeness and charm, but now I saw him for what he really was: his father’s son. I stormed down the hallway, not waiting for his response, the walls feeling more and more like a prison with each step. Grae didn’t follow.