by Kamryn Hart
“Rodrick, take Sorissa to her room,” Caspian said. “Aerre, with me.”
Rodrick put his hand on my shoulder. He wasn’t holding me back per se, but I had the feeling that was what the action was intended for. I was rooted in place as I watched Caspian and Aerre drift away from us, backs to us. I looked past them to see what they were getting into. I saw the two princes who had caused this whole mess in the first place. They were sitting at the base of the throne, looking smug next to their father. He, at least, didn’t seem to share their enthusiasm. But it didn’t stop the growl building in my throat at the thought of Phantom Fangs being threatened.
Rodrick’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and he steered me away from the throne room. “Let’s go. Nothing we can do right now. It’ll just make a bigger mess.”
I stifled that growl, but the energy had to go somewhere. It went to my fists, shaking at my sides, as I followed Rodrick back through tan halls and upstairs. The guards at their posts never looked at us. They stared straight ahead like statues. I wondered what they thought. Then I saw a guard I recognized: Koren. His gaze wavered for just a moment. It was enough for me to see his concern. And it made me feel better. Because Koren was kind even though he wasn’t Phantom Fangs. Trace was kind even though she wasn’t Phantom Fangs. We weren’t alone in this castle.
And then I wondered why I thought of myself and Phantom Fangs as “we.” I didn’t wonder for long because it felt right. It was an idea that had been planted the day before and was already taking root. I wanted Phantom Fangs to be my home.
“Why do Caspian’s brothers treat him like that?” I asked. “Where is the respect? Babaga was very adamant about respect. Respect for the woods, the animals, her—”
Rodrick bellowed, “Babaga gave you away to maneaters, Sorissa. Or have you forgotten that part?”
My jaw snapped shut and tears threatened to bead in my eyes, but I held them back.
“People use each other,” Rodrick murmured. “Humans, werewolves, and vampires too because that’s just the way the world is.”
“What about love and compassion?”
“Myths.”
“You don’t mean that. Look what you endured for that man. You challenged those two princes. I may not be from here, but I saw what you did. You got hurt because you had compassion for that man. Maybe me too. You followed my lead. Then Caspian did. Aerre… I think Aerre wanted to.”
Rodrick laughed and shook his head as we reached the hall my room was in.
“My point is, you’re all different from everyone else here. Even before you challenged Alexander. None of you fit in. You’re like me,” I insisted.
Rodrick opened the door to my room, placed his hand on my back, and urged me inside. Then he shut the door behind us. He left those electrical lights off, leaving only the natural light coming in from the windows and the bubble-glass doors leading out to the balcony. It was light, but it allowed shadows, and they twisted across Rodrick’s face in a way that made me think he must have been angry. I instinctively backed away when he took a step toward me.
“You are bold, little fighter,” he said, taking another step forward. “I’ll give you that, but you could get yourself into a lot of trouble talking like this out in the open where anyone could be listening.”
My back hit a wall. “I’m only speaking the truth. I’m only saying what I know, think, feel, and believe in. Am I not supposed to do any of those things? Am I supposed to be a doll, a puppet, that does exactly what it’s told?”
Rodrick grinned. He placed his hands on the wall to either side of me, pinning me and reminding me just how large he was. His shoulders were strong and broad. His muscles were firm like sculpted rock. I looked over his tattoos and watched a vein bulging in his arm, and my heart ached at the sight of black and blue skin. So many bruises. An unfair fight. And still, he had somehow held his own. This werewolf… this tethered, human turned werewolf, was truly remarkable.
I shuddered when he leaned down, and his lips and short beard grazed my ear. “That’s what makes you unbelievably sexy,” he whispered.
Heat crawled up my skin. His lips and beard were barely touching my ear, but the warmth of his body encompassing mine made me wonder what it would feel like to have him pressed against me, without the space. Without the brawling. Gentle touches.
Rodrick must have read my mind because he moved slowly, brushing his lips against my ear to my cheek. It was all dry and warm until he pressed his lips firmly to my skin. Wet, soft lips. My eyes fluttered, and my body buzzed. I was about to reach out and cradle the back of his head, to bring him closer still, but he moved back before I could. He stood up straight in front of me, no longer pinning me to the wall.
“What was that?” I asked. My voice sounded small and far away. I was drifting in a dreamy haze.
“A promise,” he replied with a lazy smile. The left side of his mouth always curved up more than the right. He had a distinct lop-sided grin. It was contagious and made me want to smile back. It made my heart beat a little faster.
“A promise?” I repeated.
“Next time I kiss you, it’ll be on the lips.” He gently took my chin in his hand and ran the rough pad of his thumb over my slightly parted lips.
I was seeing him through the dark frame of half-lidded eyes. It blocked out everything but him. No one had ever had my attention so exclusively. “I’m ready,” I said.
Rodrick answered with a low growl that made me shiver. “Not now.” He traced my lips with his thumb one more time. “That would be very against the rules, Sorissa. So is saying your name. I shouldn’t push my luck too far all at once. That kiss I left on your cheek will have to do for now. But remember it and remember what I said. Because I’ll remember what you said.”
He let my chin go. I chased his touch like it was an automatic reflex, eager to feel his warm skin again. I took his hand, wishing he’d touch my face again, wishing he’d brush my lips again. His lips. I wanted that kiss now.
“I have to go, little fighter. Stay in your room until someone comes for you, likely your maid. I wouldn’t plan on seeing us again until the Full Moon Banquet.” He gave my hand a rough squeeze before tearing away from my grasp. “Caspian will take care of things, so don’t worry about that either, or you’ll cause him more trouble. Got it?”
“Got it,” I murmured.
I stood stupidly still, my mind floating in clouds. It wasn’t until I heard the door click shut that I came back to my senses. It was like being half asleep and being startled awake by a loud noise, adrenaline pumping through my veins to sharpen my mind and body in case of danger.
I sighed and slid back against the wall until I was seated firmly on the dark-blue carpet. Life used to be so simple. Yesterday, it became a huge and complicated web, and I was just starting to learn its intricacies, following individual silver threads. But there were four silver threads that shined the brightest. Caspian, Aerre, Rodrick, Todd… How did they fit into everything? How did I? Could I locate my own thread and unravel the web?
As if to answer that question, I spotted my mother’s journal where I had left it on the nightstand last night. I supposed it was an option. It was an account of my history after all.
I stood, grabbed the journal, and sunk into the cloud bed. It immediately tried to swallow me up, so I gave in and lay back, sinking farther into a fluffy embrace. It was almost suffocating, but I ignored it. I held my mother’s journal above me and ran my hand across the purple cover. Then I traced the gilded letters. I brought the journal down onto my chest and spread my arms out wide. I closed my eyes and saw only Phantom Fangs. I didn’t want answers from a journal. I wanted to spend more time with them, to learn with them.
But I really didn’t want to cause any more trouble. Though Phantom Fangs deserved no punishment, I was certain the king would side with his chosen sons. I wondered why Caspian had been cast out.
I lifted the journal, flipped a few pages, and found the next entry I had yet to read.
>
The 3rd Month of Winter, Day 63. 2525.
My beautiful daughter, Moonlight Child blessed by Lureine, Princess Sorissa va Lupin of Howling Sky, I thought it would be prudent to give you a bit of history. Like everyone, I will start with the Gods.
There are three Gods: Lureine, Cor, and Yessma. You’ll find arguments about everything, but this statement has fewer disputes than most things. Take my words over any others you might hear, Sorissa. I have your best interests at heart, and I would never lie to you.
The most powerful of the Gods is Lureine. He is the God who created us. Werewolves. We are superior. We were made to rule this world. It would have been so had the other Gods not created their own species, their own people, and started the Prime War. Prime was born in war.
Vampires are our sworn enemies. There is no use for them. We would slaughter them all at once if they weren’t so powerful and cunning. They are the biggest obstacle in this war, and it won’t end until they are exterminated.
Humans are plucky little creatures. They can be a nuisance, but they are a valuable resource if free will is beaten out of them. They become nice and docile, hard workers, and quite the delicacy. Howling Sky has an abundance of them. We breed them for different jobs. Some are bred to be strong laborers, others are bred for meat—
I closed the journal with a resounding smack. The sound was hollow. Cold washed over my skin and I shuddered, gripping my arms and rubbing them for warmth. I couldn’t stomach it. I couldn’t read any more of this journal, of this woman who claimed to be my mother. I couldn’t think of vampires or humans that way. I knew little of vampires since I had only briefly met a few imprisoned in Paws Peak, but I had their fairytales in my head. I knew they weren’t mindless monsters. They were creative, free souls with dreams of their own. That was true for humans and werewolves too—even if I didn’t understand the majority of werewolves and humans I had met. I had met Phantom Fangs, and I knew I couldn’t lump all werewolves together. That meant I couldn’t lump all vampires together, humans either. Koren. Trace.
But it made me sick. It made me sick to think my mother could say those things. She was talking about Aerre, his mother, and sister. She was talking about Rodrick. There was nothing in this journal that would help me because my mother and I didn’t see eye to eye. She praised werewolves like they could do no wrong while I had plenty of complaints concerning plenty of werewolves, my mother among them.
I was a carnivore, but I had never once thought about eating a human. The thought made my stomach churn, and I really thought I would be sick.
I had to get rid of this journal. I had to burn it, to let it die with the rest of Howling Sky in whatever caused its demise. It seemed to me, the High Kingdom was better left a distant memory.
I hadn’t planned on leaving my room. I was going to do what Rodrick said. But I rationalized it because I wouldn’t leave the castle. I just needed to find somewhere I could dispose of this journal. It couldn’t sit in my room anymore. I never wanted to see it again.
I opened my door and walked out into the hall. I ducked my way around guards, watching and waiting for them to move like I had when I snuck out last night. I wasn’t sure it mattered if there were technocraft eyeballs in places I couldn’t see, but it made me feel better. I didn’t know where I was going. I was being fueled by pure emotion. I was certain I could find technocraft, maybe in the Heart, that would turn this journal to dust because ripping it to shreds just wasn’t good enough. I wanted ashes.
CHAPTER 24
TODD
THE HEART WAS BRIGHT and warm. It was contained inside of a cylindrical glass energy chamber and, by extension, a bubble-glass shell. The shell reached all the way to the top of the castle tower, illuminating each floor with a light that never went out thanks to the electricity the energy chamber collected and recharged the lightning stone with during thunderstorms. The bubble-glass shell wasn’t breached unless work on the Heart needed to be done—unless you were me. I wore tinted goggles to protect my eyes as I sat on the ground next to the energy chamber’s console. Sometimes I was programming. Sometimes I was building. Sometimes both.
This was the one place I was allowed true isolation. It was the only place I took off my beanie because no one could see my red hair. When I was in Wolf Bridge, the Heart was off limits to anyone else but me. At the moment, I was working on tech inhibitors because I was stuck on how to make a tech field span all the way to Wolf Bridge. Just because the Heart had basically unlimited power didn’t mean I always knew how to utilize it. That meant I had to work on plan B: Phantom Fangs infiltrating Paws Peak once again in order to assassinate Prince Charles. The two-day time limit was making plan A impossible.
I wondered why I spoke up and told everyone I could do it. I could. Eventually. I fought for plan A because I wanted everything to go smoothly, without a hitch. Infiltrating Paws Peak the way we had the first time just wasn’t a good idea. They’d be much more alert. Maybe they’d expect it. But we’d do it if we had to.
I was angry. I couldn’t stand the thought of Prince Charles with his teeth and claws buried in the Lost Princess.
My cheeks burned at the memory of her hands touching my face, my skin. I wiped away the sweat that had beaded on my forehead. It was too warm near the energy chamber, but only just. It was bearable and a little sweat never interfered with my work, so I dealt with it.
The Lost Princess wouldn’t leave me alone, though. I tried to get lost in my work, but my thoughts kept drifting back to her. I purposefully avoided her since Phantom Fangs delivered her to the king, but it wasn’t so easy to keep my thoughts from her. She made my heart palpitate, my cheeks red… Nervous. She made me nervous.
I had never had any interest in women before like most werewolves seemed to. It was apparently quite common for werewolves to at least find women attractive. In Wolf Bridge especially. The only wereas here were either too old and already mated or too young for mates until we brought back the princess. She was the perfect age for mating and the first werea I met who was almost my age. She was only two years younger, eighteen while I was twenty. Apparently, I was only attracted to females of my own species. I had the sinking feeling that statement wasn’t entirely true, though.
It was the Moonlight Child “blessed by Lureine.” I didn’t believe in any gods, not even the universally recognized Gods. I didn’t believe in magic. Everything could be explained, but I couldn’t explain this. And that made me uncomfortable.
Werewolves typically lived to three hundred. A werea was usually fertile up to two hundred and fifty. In all that time, the elder wereas had been breeding with their mates and had only produced the few young wereas in Wolf Bridge. It was amazing werewolves managed to hang on with how slowly we could reproduce now. The fact that wereas could produce multiple cubs in a relatively short amount of time was the reason why, but it was still slow. It was hard for werewolves to find mates before, but since the world became so small, it became even harder. Most werewolves would never have a mate. That was just biology, but werewolves wouldn’t go extinct—as long as our wereas weren’t killed off like the vampyres.
Phantom Fangs killed the last vampyre. Others may have doubted it, but we didn’t. That male had no reason to lie. He hated his own species almost as much as werewolves and humans did. I wasn’t good with emotions, but even I could see he wasn’t lying.
Vampires as a species were still holding on because of the possibility that even one among them might be pregnant with a new vampyre. If a new vampyre grew to adulthood, they would multiply like rats. To ensure their destruction, werewolves would have to hunt them all down eventually. I would have been focusing on how to infiltrate Crimson Caves right now if not for the Lost Princess.
But the Lost Princess caught everyone’s attention. She took precedence. Both Wolf Bridge and Paws Peak wanted to claim her because of her age and sex. It would have been the case for any werea her age, but not to this degree. Tonight was the Full Moon Banquet. It was obvious the prin
cess had used up all her moonlight reserves. Everyone was anxious to see what would happen on this full moon when she recharged. If the stories were true, she could hold more moonlight than anyone. That made her the most powerful breeder in our history. It also, quite possibly, made her dangerous. Ensuring she was claimed by a werewolf would make her loyal to whichever kingdom he belonged to.
I could think of many scenarios, of many ways this night would end. It seemed to me that the primary thing on the minds of both kings was to seal the princess with the Mate Claim. They wanted power, but I doubted they had given much thought to the possibility of her own great power outside of being the ultimate breeder. King George of Paws Peak wanted her sealed right away while King Philip of Wolf Bridge was trying to win her over first, to make her feel as if Wolf Bridge was her home. Maybe Philip was making a fatal mistake, underestimating the Lost Princess because she was a werea.
I didn’t get into politics. I didn’t usually think about them this much either. Tech was what I did. It was what I knew. It was what I had control over. I wished my brain would let the princess go already. She had nothing to do with me.
Heat spread through my face when I remembered her touch again. My heart beat just a little faster when I saw her face light up as I talked about tech. The werewolves who were passionate about tech didn’t even react like that, not that I ever spent much time with them. No, it was something else. It felt like she was looking at me with those lit up eyes. She cared about what I had to say. Maybe she found the tech fascinating, but she didn’t see me as the “tech guy,” like tech was my only function. She saw past that even though I hadn’t given her a reason to, just like I had never given anyone else a reason to.
My chest ached. My entire body ached, and it wasn’t from sitting hunched over on the reflective surface of a hard floor. I ached for the princess. If I had been delusional, I would have wished her to be my mate. It was crazy because it wasn’t all biology talking. It wasn’t all because of this driving need for sex that was normal in a werewolf when confronted with an unmated werea. It was a yearning for kinship, something foreign to me. And the irrational notion that she might actually care for me. For the first time in my life, I longed for a connection I had never had with another living being.
