Chapter 4 The kings hound

The High Court cleared out like smoke in a windstorm once Fenris gave the signal. The advisors and minor Alphas scrambled for the exits, their whispers hissing against the stone walls like a nest of disturbed vipers. They had seen what they came for: the King’s mark on a bride’s neck. They didn't care that it was a burn instead of a bite. In their world, cruelty was just another form of commitment.

The heavy obsidian doors groaned shut, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall like a finality I wasn't ready for. Suddenly, the room felt far too large and the air far too thin. Only three of us remained: the King on his throne, the Alpha who had sold me, and the girl currently praying for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

My father, Silas, didn't look terrified anymore. Now that the audience was gone, his greed was overriding his survival instinct. He stepped toward the dais, his boots clicking with a confidence he hadn’t earned. He kept his eyes fixed on the red, angry skin of my throat, his lip curling in a way that made my skin crawl.

"I must say, Your Majesty," Silas began, his voice oily and thick with that false pride I had spent twenty years learning to loathe. "I was worried. Elena has always been… delicate. High-strung, you understand. I feared she wouldn't handle the Lycan bond with such grace. But it seems she has taken to your—admittedly aggressive—style quite well."

He looked at me then. He didn't see his daughter. He didn't see the girl he’d left trembling at an altar. He looked at me the way a man looks at a winning lottery ticket he’s finally about to cash in.

"Well done, daughter," he said. He reached out as if to pat my cheek, a gesture he hadn't used since I was five years old and he still thought I might shift into a champion. "You’ve secured our family’s future. The Blackwood Pack will be legendary for this union. We will speak of this for generations."

I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I could feel Fenris standing right behind me, his chest a wall of solid heat against my back. He didn't touch me, but his aura wrapped around me like a physical weight, grounded and lethal.

"She is not your daughter anymore, Silas," Fenris said. His voice was low, vibrating through my own spine. "She is my Queen. And a Queen does not take orders from a minor Alpha who couldn't even keep track of his own borders."

Silas’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he pushed through it. "Of course, of course. But surely, a father can have a few words with his child before he departs? To… offer some final guidance on her new duties?"

Fenris tilted his head, his silver eyes tracking a fly buzzing near the rafters before settling back on my father. He looked at me, a dark, unreadable challenge in his gaze. "Do you wish to speak with him, Nina?"

He used my real name. He said it so softly, so dangerously, that the sound of it felt like a secret weapon being unsheathed. It was a test. He was waiting to see if I would crumble, if I would beg my father for mercy, or if I would finally realize that the man in front of me was just a ghost of a nightmare.

"I think the Alpha and I have a great deal to discuss," I said.

My voice sounded strange. It wasn't the high, melodic tone Elena used to charm suitors. It was deeper, colder. It was a voice forged from a night of fire and a morning of blood.

Fenris leaned down, his lips grazing the raw, stinging edge of the brand on my neck. I flinched, the pain sharp and electric, but he held my waist firm. "Five minutes," he whispered against my skin, his breath smelling of dark chocolate and winter. "Don't make me bored, little wolf. I hate being bored."

He turned and walked away, his heavy boots echoing like thunder until he disappeared through a side door.

The silence that followed was heavy enough to bruise. Silas waited until the door clicked shut before his face transformed. The "proud father" mask fell away, replaced by the snarling, hateful man who had spent a decade making me feel like a parasite.

"You little bitch," he hissed, stepping up onto the dais until he was towering over me. "I don’t know how you did it. I don’t know how you convinced him you were her, but if you ruin this, I will skin you alive myself. Do you understand me?"

I stood my ground. For the first time in my life, I didn't look at my feet. I didn't apologize for existing. "Elena ran away, Father. She left you. She left the pack. I’m the only reason you aren't currently being hunted for sport by the King’s guard."

"You're a fluke!" he spat, his hand twitching as if he wanted to strike me. I knew that twitch. It usually preceded a stinging slap to the face. "You’re a wolf-less runt who got lucky in the dark. Don't you dare think that iron crown makes you special. You’re a placeholder. A warm body for him to vent his rage on. The moment Fenris realizes you're a defect, he’ll discard you, and I won't be there to take you back."

He stepped even closer, his scent—stale ale and old sweat—filling my nose. "You will write to me every week. You will tell me the King’s secrets. I want to know his troop movements, his trade routes, and exactly which Alphas are whispering treason in the corners. If you don't, I’ll find a way to let the 'real' Elena back into this palace, and I’ll tell the King exactly who was under that veil."

I felt a coldness settle over my heart. It wasn't the coldness of fear anymore. It was the coldness of a void.

I looked at his hand—the hand that had signed the contract selling me to a monster like I was a sack of grain. I remembered the years of eating scraps in the kitchen while Elena wore silk. I remembered him calling me a "stain" on the Blackwood name.

"You're wrong about one thing, Silas," I said. I stepped forward, into his space, forcing him to bank his head back. "I'm not the placeholder. I'm the one who stayed."

I reached out and grabbed his wrist. I wasn't strong—not like a wolf—but the sheer shock of me touching him made him freeze.

"You think you can threaten me?" I whispered, my voice dropping to a low, jagged rasp. "I sleep next to a man who brands his 'loves' with silver just to prove a point. I live in a palace where the walls are painted with the blood of Alphas who were much stronger and much smarter than you. You’re a small man from a small pack, and you are standing in myhouse."

"Your house?" he mocked, though his eyes were darting toward the door Fenris had exited.

"Look at my neck," I commanded, my grip tightening. I pulled the collar of my purple dress down, forcing him to see the raw, weeping brand. "He did this to me because I told him I wanted to see you crawl. He’s not my husband, Silas. He’s my predator. And if you ever speak to me like that again, I’ll tell him you were the one who helped Elena run. I'll tell him you planned the swap to humiliate him."

Silas’s face went from a furious red to a sickly, mottled white in a heartbeat. "I... I didn't... Nina, be reasonable—"

"I'm done being reasonable," I said, a dark, sharp smile spreading across my face. It felt like poison and honey in my veins. It felt good. "He won't care about the truth. He only cares about who he can kill to make an example. Now, get out. Go back to your rotting pack and wait. When I want to speak to you, I’ll send a messenger. Until then, you are dead to me."

Silas opened his mouth to retort, but a low, guttural growl erupted from the shadows behind the throne. Fenris hadn't left. He had been there the whole time, a shadow among shadows, his eyes glowing like two silver coins in the dark.

My father didn't say another word. He stumbled backward, his heels catching on his own cloak, and bolted for the doors. He didn't look back once.

I stood there on the dais, my chest heaving, the adrenaline finally starting to fade and leaving me cold. My hands began to shake. The "power" I had just used felt heavy, oily, and terrifyingly addictive.

"Not bad," Fenris said, stepping out of the darkness. He was smiling—a real smile this time, one that showed far too many teeth. "I thought you might cry. I thought you might beg him for a kind word, just to feel like a daughter again."

"I'm out of tears," I said, watching the heavy doors settle into place. "And I don't think I was ever really a daughter."

Fenris walked up to me and wiped a stray tear I hadn't even realized was falling with the pad of his thumb. "Good. A Queen has no use for either."

He looked at my neck again, his thumb grazing the edge of the brand. "Does it hurt?"

"You know it does," I said, meeting his gaze.

"Pain is a great reminder, Nina," he whispered, his voice dropping to that intimate, terrifying growl. "It reminds you that you’re still alive. And it reminds you who kept you that way."

He turned toward the large windows, looking out at the sprawling, jagged Lycan city below. "Now that the trash has been cleared out, we have work to do. The Alphas think I’m weak because I married a Blackwood runt. We’re going to spend the next month proving them wrong. And you... you’re going to learn how to hunt."