by Kamryn Hart
I propped Babaga’s parcel up against the wall and placed my hands on my arms as I tried to rub away the goosebumps. Then I inspected my feet, but there wasn’t much I could do. I couldn’t clean them and that meant I had to grin and bear the pain while hoping I didn’t get a nasty infection.
At least I felt safe. Sort of. I was fairly confident the soldiers wouldn’t find me if I took a short moment to catch my breath—unless they knew this place much better than I did. For all I knew, I could have been running in circles this entire time. I had no idea how long I had been down here, running like a chicken with its head cut off. I didn’t know the way out. Maybe that meant I’d end up starving to death down here like those hungry vampires. I hadn’t even seen any rats for us to feast on.
I closed my eyes for a minute, pressed my hand to Charles’s bite, and felt that tugging sensation again. I had been ignoring it, but I supposed it would lead me back somewhere. I didn’t know for sure that it would lead me back to Charles, but it was the feeling I had. It was like instinct. I tried to remember if biting was part of the Mate Claim.
I supposed I remembered illustrations of mated wereas with a scar similar to what this bite would inevitably leave on my skin. That was the extent of my memories on the matter, though. It wasn’t like Babaga gave me books detailing the process of claiming or mating. It was all mentioned in passing in the werewolf fairytales I knew. The stories themselves were typically about a quest of some sort: finding food for the pack, a werewolf coming of age, using moonlight to slay a great beast.
There were so many stories in my head, but none of them were like the story I was living. Unless I thought of myself as one of those werewolves on a quest. I was forced to leave home, taken to a strange land. But what was my quest?
I rubbed the sore and still bleeding bite. It hurt but eased the tugging. I didn’t know what Charles did to me, but I really hoped he didn’t have the same tug toward me.
What if he did and that was all it took to find me? I wasn’t moving now. It would be easy for him. Was this all it meant to be a werea? Was this why not a single werea went on an epic quest in werewolf fairytales? Why were males simply called werewolves while females were called by a different name?
I had never seen a werea treated badly in the books Babaga gave me, but I never saw them treated equally to a male. I had the ridiculous notion that I would change that when I got out of the woods, that I would be the alpha of my own pack one day. I wished I could return to such naivety.
I wiped sweat from my brow and raked my fingers through my curly hair to integrate the loose pieces back into the hairstyle that maid took a lengthy amount of time to do. It wasn’t very effective, but it was better than nothing. A single simple braid would have been nice.
Shivers pulsed through my body as I continued to sweat. It was like I had a fever. I was certain my bronze skin was burning, but I felt so cold. Maybe Charles’s bite shot venom into my blood.
I glanced at Babaga’s parcel and saw a tear in the brown paper. There was no better time to look at it. I was too tired to stand, so I grabbed it. I untied the twine and the brown paper fell away with a single pull. It was a book I didn’t recognize.
Its spine was woven together in a beautiful crisscrossing pattern. The smooth leather making up the cover was dyed a dark purple. I traced the shiny gold lettering on the front of it. The script was beautiful with bends and loops that outdid mine. I never enjoyed Babaga’s penmanship lessons. But I did like to read. I liked to read books by werewolves, humans, and vampires. I read so many fairytales that they often ran together—even from species to species. Though they had different journeys, different customs, the stories all had the same heart, the same questions, the same lessons. Based on their stories, the three species didn’t seem that different to me.
I didn’t know what Babaga was trying to do, feeding me fairytales and keeping me locked away all these years just to kick me out and sell me to a bunch of brutish werewolves. She didn’t even give me all their fairytales. Surely, this Moonlight Child, blessed by Lureine, Lost Princess, Howling Sky, and whatever else these werewolves used to describe me, was fairytale material. Or maybe not. If fairytales were nothing but lies and the Moonlight Child was truth, one was fiction and the other was actual history.
What was the point in feeding me lies, then?
I ran my hand along the spine of the book and looked at its front cover. This time, instead of admiring the finish on the gold lettering, I read the words: To my pride and joy, the Moonlight Child blessed by Lureine, Princess Sorissa va Lupin of Howling Sky. There was more written below. With the greatest love, High Queen Alana va Lupin of Howling Sky.
My bottom lip trembled. Babaga knew all along. All of this. What these werewolves had been saying to me, she had a book all about it. I was a princess. I had so many questions and angry words to say to Babaga, but I bit my tongue and opened the book to the first page instead.
The 2nd Month of Winter, Day 59. 2525.
Little Sorissa, I wanted to write you a first journal entry the day I found out I was pregnant, but patience was in order. I had to be sure since we no longer use technology, including the technology to peer inside a mother’s womb. A werea has never been wrong about knowing the gender and number of cubs growing inside of her anyway. I had a feeling you were the only cub inside of my belly. I know you are, and I know your worth. It’s with certainty that I have told the wonderful news to your father and High King. A few days later, I leave you this: your name and your first journal entry about thirty days into my pregnancy. Almost ninety days remain, little one. I cannot wait to meet you and hold you in my arms for the first time.
I’ve thought about your name for the past thirty days and always come back to Sorissa. It’s a beautiful name, regal, and befitting of your bloodline. Your breeding is the finest, made even more so because you are the only cub inside of my womb. Such an occasion is so rare, I’ve never heard of another instance of it. Moonlight Child. Werewolves have wombmates—usually a minimum of six cubs, all male. The imbalance of male and female is the opposite of vampires. They have many more females and few males. It’s the way of it, I suppose. Something to do with our biology perhaps. But, for werewolves, all wombmates must share their mother’s nutrients, and more importantly: moonlight.
As an unborn cub, you take and keep all moonlight I absorb on a full moon. After you are born, moonlight will be fleeting, something you will use and need to recharge, but as you are, the moonlight you intake will make you stronger than any before you. You will be able to store and use vast amounts of moonlight the likes of which none of us have ever seen. That is the future I see for you, Moonlight Child. You have been blessed by Lureine. You are not only a rare and valued werea, you are unprecedented.
I hope you will be the start of a new age. War is your history, but I don’t want it to be your future.
Vampires target wereas while werewolves target male vampires, or vampyres as they are called among their own kind. The goal is to drive the other species to extinction. Humans almost took care of that, though. They almost drove us all to extinction when they initiated the Hellfire Strike. They have made the world small, but the fallout has rested for a hundred and fifty-six years. There is hope that the badlands can be revived, but the Prime War will have to end first.
The Prime War has existed for as long as Prime itself. Werewolves, vampires, and humans have fought for the ultimate power, the power as ruler of all of Prime. The humans, from the former kingdom known as Glory Valley, were responsible for the Hellfire Strike. They launched the attack when they must have seen how inevitable it was they would lose the war. The attack killed many of their own kind after all, including the humans kept as meat and blood inside of werewolf and vampire kingdoms. However, they failed to destroy everything and were quickly disposed of by their enemies.
Alas, I don’t mean for your first journal entry to be so dreary. You are the Moonlight Child and of the High Kingdom: Howling Sky. Your fortune is
good. Your future is bright. Three werewolf kingdoms remain: Howling Sky, Wolf Bridge, and Paws Peak. One vampire kingdom remains: Crimson Caves. No human kingdoms remain. Werewolves have all but won the war, and you will lead us into a new era.
I am happy to see the war ending. I have lived well over a hundred and fifty years now. I saw the Hellfire Strike firsthand. It destroyed the kingdom I was born and raised in along with countless others. It would have destroyed me too if I had not been promised to High King Kashe ve Lupin of Howling Sky two hundred years ago. Kashe was a prince then, but he has grown and claimed the highest station in all the world. I have given him many cubs during that time, but you are my only Moonlight Child.
With you, final negotiations are being made. Wolf Bridge remains neutral, waiting to see how everything plays out, but Paws Peak has resented Howling Sky attaining High Kingdom status. However, Paws Peak will stop resisting and werewolves will unite under Howling Sky if we promise you to one of twelve royal werewolf cubs just born to King George ve Paz of Paws Peak. We will mix royal blood and the three werewolf kingdoms will stand united. Details must be addressed for uniting our kingdoms, but, as I’ve said, your future is bright.
You, my beautiful Sorissa, are so very valuable. I’m sure your future mate will rule this world and that you will bear him many cubs, powerful male werewolves with expansive moonlight reserves thanks to your own. Your mate will expand this broken and tiny world into something glorious, a proper place for you to raise your cubs. You will likely be remembered as the most influential werea in our history, the mother of the new, more powerful generation.
My heart pounded so hard in my chest I could hear it in my ears. The words I had just read swirled in my vision. They were a jumbled mess I couldn’t sort through or process.
I clapped the journal shut when that throbbing bite acted up again. I strained my ears and picked up the sound of muffled footfalls. They were close. Way too close. I hadn’t noticed because I was so engrossed in my “mother’s” journal.
I jumped to my feet and pain flared anew in my soles. In fact, my entire body was riddled with pain. I was more convinced than ever that Charles had somehow poisoned me with his bite.
Limping, I checked the different corridors, trying to find the one farthest away from Charles and the guards. One direction beckoned me to it, and I didn’t consider why. When I took a step toward it, the pain in my body subsided some. Then I saw Charles emerge at the end of the corridor. I couldn’t trust my own instincts because even they were betraying me. How did everything turn out so wrong?
“Got you now, bitch.”
CHAPTER 10
SORISSA
I RAN, JOURNAL IN hand. Charles’s screams tried to follow me, but I rounded corners quickly and found my way back to the vampires I had talked to in their cells. This time, I didn’t stop to chat. I knew my way out of the dungeon now and decided to risk ascending. It wasn’t like struggling down here was doing me any good anyway.
“Run, little werea,” the vampires whispered in a chorus.
I ignored them and kept running. I found the spiraling staircase luckily unguarded. A bright light was above me. It was a relief from the dimness in the dungeon because now I could clearly see where I was going—not that I needed to dodge jutting out rocks up here, but still. Once I emerged back onto polished gray floors, I was greeted by an abundance of those glowing orbs: lightbulbs. They supplemented the light of the sun, drowning out the almost ripe moonlight that drifted in quietly through high windows and reflected off that odd pearly material. I felt the pull of power. If only the moon had been full, I would have been able to recharge.
My eyes snapped to a corner where I saw shadows moving. I was certain it was a guard. I was also certain Charles was right on my heels. I swore I could hear his voice pricking at my ears from down the steps like demons chanting. Also, that bite was reacting again, promising relief if I went back down the stairs. I gritted my teeth and cursed these lowlife werewolves and their underhanded tricks.
I didn’t know where to go, so I simply moved. I ran down the hall with no clear direction and hoped a soldier wouldn’t pop out at the end of it. My feet stabbed with pain each time they hit the floor. The distraction of pain made me miss the shifting shadows in another deep and dark crevice to my right. Phantom hands caught me and dragged me into their shadows. I couldn’t yelp because one of those hands sealed my mouth closed. I almost dropped my journal, but I managed to hold on to it.
My instincts told me to bite, to kick and run for it, but I waited. I let whoever grabbed me hold me still. I was back in the echoing halls and could clearly hear my pursuers. They were getting close. However, their jumbled mess of shouts suggested they had lost sight of me and didn’t know where I was. I held my breath as they passed by the crevice in the hallway without even thinking to turn their heads. Apparently, my feet hadn’t had enough grime and blood on their soles to leave an obvious trail to my location. Or they were oblivious. Regardless, I was grateful for that.
The soldiers passed by without issue, but then I saw Charles. He hesitated. I thought he’d turn his head to the shadows. My bite burned at the same moment like it was calling out to him. My heart sunk because I was certain he knew I was there. He only needed to take a few steps inside of the shadows. Maybe he only needed to turn his head.
I pursed my lips behind the stranger’s hand and silently cursed Charles. I cursed whatever spell or poison his bite held. I would never be his mate. Mate Claim or not, I refused, and nothing would change that
Charles moved forward, catching up to the soldiers and leaving me alone with a phantom. At first, I was too relieved to do anything but sink back a little. The bite was burning and pulsing, but I refused to give in to it and reveal myself. Charles couldn’t have me. He didn’t own me. No one ever would.
The figure behind me stirred. I became aware of how solid he was at my back, not a phantom at all. I looked down at the hand covering my mouth. The skin was dark like the shadows. He felt big and solid like a male, and the subtle tingling in my nose told me he was a werewolf. I just knew. His warm breath drifted down to my ear, reminding me of how close Charles was to me, reminding me of the bite he gave me.
When I was certain the way was clear, I bit this werewolf’s hand. Then I stomped on his foot. He hissed in pain and drew back for a moment—but it wasn’t a long enough moment. He grabbed me again and twirled me around so I was facing him this time.
“Let me go,” I warned in a low voice, “or I’ll tear off your balls and make you cry like a wounded dog.”
My fingers were likely boring holes into the journal I clung to desperately. Every muscle in my body was wound up so tightly I was almost shaking. I was on the verge of doing something underhanded myself: leaping forward and scratching his eyes out like a cat. But the expression on his face caused me to falter.
He was covered in dirt and grime like I was. He raised a full black eyebrow at me and wore a slight frown. His black hair was just long enough to show off charming curls that curtained his forehead and part of his ears. His face was hard and chiseled like all male werewolf faces seemed to be. He didn’t have any facial hair. His skin would have looked endlessly smooth if not for the confused expression he was giving me. However, his eyes were the feature that ended up holding me captive. They were dark like the rest of him. The shadows we were in made it hard to discern everything about him, but I swore I could see flashes of blue in his eyes like sapphire dust.
“Please don’t do that,” he said. He kept the volume low, but the baritone resonance of his voice made me shiver all the same. If he wanted to, I was sure he could speak with great power. Then he added, “I’m trying to get you out of here, out of Paws Peak.”
My mouth dropped open.
“You do want to leave, don’t you? I mean, based on the way you were running like your tail was on fire.” He gave a small smile, flashing white teeth.
Could I trust anything this werewolf said? My experience so far sa
id no. But I was getting desperate. It wasn’t like I had a plan. I didn’t really think I could get out of here on my own without moonlight. If he was one of the soldiers—which I supposed he could have been since he was wearing a similar uniform with a small pack and a belt of weapons, though it was black without a trace of yellow—I was already caught so why play around with me?
The truth was, I had nothing to lose.
“Fine,” I said. “Get me out of here.”
The werewolf bowed. It was a small elegant bow and nothing like what I had experienced from other werewolves so far. It somehow seemed genuine.
“You are Princess Sorissa va Lupin of Howling Sky, aren’t you?” he asked when he stood up straight again. His eyes lingered on my tattered dress for a moment before moving to my bite and then meeting my eyes again.
“Apparently,” I replied.
He grinned. “Fantastic. I’d get you out of here even if you weren’t, but the Lost Princess, specifically, is who I came to rescue.” He held out his hand. “I’m Caspian.”
I couldn’t pinpoint what made his words sound so sincere, but they did. I hesitantly held out my hand to his. He took my hand with his big one, eclipsing it. His touch was gentle, another difference between him and the other werewolves I had met so far.
“Nice to meet you,” he established. “Now, let’s get you out of here.” After reclaiming his hand, he pressed his pointer finger to his ear. “Found her. Clear out and don’t waste any time.”
“Who are you talking to?” I asked as I looked up and all around us. I was the only one here.
“Stay close to me, Princess.”
Instead of answering my question, Caspian took my arm and tried to force me out of the shadows, but I was done being forced to do anything. Plus, dragging me along was just a ridiculous handicap. I was perfectly capable of keeping up on my own, hurt feet or not. I ripped my arm from his grasp and bared my teeth.
