The King's Verdict
1334 Words
SERAPHINA'S POV
'I have been called many things in my life. Spy was a new one. I would have laughed if my entire body wasn't currently failing me.'
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“Stop.”
Just one word…and not just the whole of his pack froze. My wolf, already exhausted, battered, barely holding herself together, stirred up.
Deep down I was sure it wasn't from fear of the lycan king, more euphoric and pulled energy.
I tried to raise my gaze, to see him fully, but my body betrayed me. Too weak to lift a muscle.
Words were commanded and whispers swirled but none got to my ears and made perfect sense.
All I knew was the ropes loosening, the rough hands freeing me from the block, and then…
I collapsed.
Hands caught me before I fully hit the ground. Multiple sets, lifting, carrying, moving me somewhere that wasn't the block and that was honestly all I needed to know. Words floated above me, disconnected, reaching my ears in pieces.
"What kind of spell did she cast on the almighty Lycan King that he showed mercy on a stray… an intruder… a spy to be precise."
"He didn't show her mercy. He only extended her death. Until she was sound."
I wanted to respond to that.
But I closed my eyes instead.
★★★
Waking up to a splitting headache and body pain wasn't the reality I had thought about.
Especially trying to remember what I had dreamt but nothing was forming up.
Splash.
The ice water hit me before I could groan…
Drenched and freezing, my teeth shook uncontrollably.
Anger filled my heart as my chest tightened. I stood up with grievance at once just to be pulled back by my arms.
The sound of chains resounded, heavy and painful against my wrists.
I stared up at my attacker. A woman. A maid, middle-aged, hard-faced, with the look of someone who enjoyed cruelty in small doses.
"Finally awake, stray?" She sneered. "Slept like a queen while the rest of us worked. Your death's been postponed, not canceled. People whose deaths have already been proclaimed don't usually get a bed.”
I looked around.
Dark walls. No windows. A single torch. The kind of room that wasn't designed for comfort or guests.
A basement.
I had survived being thrown out of my pack, dragged through the woods, chained in a carriage, nearly beheaded and now I was chained in a basement in a territory that didn't want me.
This was somehow worse than the block.
"These chains." I rattled them pointedly. "Remove them."
The maid looked at me like I had just asked her to hand me the moon.
"Remove them." I said again.
"The only thing getting removed," she said, turning away, "is your dinner. Since you want to open that filthy mouth of yours and spill out rubbish.
"Excuse me?"
"No dinner." She moved toward the door. "I am the head maid assigned to you and I will not be spoken to like…"
"Like what?" I sat up straighter despite the chains, despite the splitting headache cracking through my skull, despite every single thing currently wrong with my body.
I glared at her, shivering in my soaked rags.
"Like someone whose death has already been proclaimed so she has nothing left to lose? Look at this cloth you have put on me." I gestured at the rough fabric they had thrown over me at some point. "Shabby doesn't even begin to cover it. Just you wait. When I get out of these chains I will make sure every single person in this territory kisses my feet starting with you."
She stopped walking.
Then she turned around slowly.
"No breakfast either," she said pleasantly. And left.
I stared at the closed door.
Fair enough.
Argh…..I hate this, I hate everything. I couldn't help but groan as I tried to shake off the chains.
My stomach groaned in hunger, my head ached more and my body weakened.
At the moment heavy footsteps resounded from outside the basement. Someone was coming.
Definitely not the sickling maid footsteps, this felt more bold and terrifying…could it be him? The lycan king, Dravon?
Before my head could wander around the door opened with a swift motion.
I understood immediately why the footsteps had sounded like that.
He was enormous. The kind of build that made doorframes look like suggestions.
Lean muscle, sharp jaw, blonde hair that fell slightly across his forehead like an afterthought. Greenish eyes that moved across the basement with a calm assessment.
Handsome.
Annoyingly so.
He looked at me the way you look at something mildly interesting you found in an unexpected place.
"I heard we have a spy from a neighboring pack." His voice was even. Unbothered. "An intruder in Valdrakon territory."
tilted my head.
"I can see the wolves of Valdrakon all have their brains thoroughly cooked," I said more foolishly than scared.
"Including the handsome ones unfortunately. Because tell me, why would a spy have no weapons? No scroll, no map? Why would a spy be lying half dead and half naked at the border of the almighty Lycan King's territory?" I rattled my chains for emphasis. "Does that sound like effective spying to you?"
Something moved at the corner of his mouth.
Not quite a smile. Almost.
"Impressive," he said. "Not bad at all. Sharp tongue for someone whose death has already been proclaimed." He tilted his head. "So. Who are you?"
"Seraphina Riven. Formerly of Ironmoor Pack."
Something flickered in his eyes. Brief. Gone before I could read it.
"Ironmoor." He said it like he was filing it somewhere. "Small origin. Barely worth noticing on a map." He straightened. "But that's fine. The King will send for you soon enough." He turned toward the door. "I'd cooperate if I were you. He can be persuaded toward mercy. Occasionally."
"And you are?"
He glanced back.
"Kael Volkvo. Right hand of the Lycan King of Valdrakon." A pause. "Try to eat something if they bring it."
He left.
I stared at the ceiling.
Right hand of the Lycan King.
I was in Valdrakon.
The largest, most feared territory across six packs. The kingdom that didn't negotiate, didn't ask twice, and didn't make mistakes.
And I had just called their right hand man brain-cooked.
Excellent.
It didn't wait long…
The same maid returned, sour-faced, unlocking my chains with rough hands. She threw a cloak at me, coarse wool, but dry, covering what my rags couldn't. Guards flanked me as I was led up from the basement, through corridors of stone and torchlight, into warmer, richer spaces.
My hair still dripped. My clothes still clung, soaked and shameful. But I was covered. I held onto that.
The King's chamber.
I knew it before they opened the doors. The air smelled of fur and expensive liquor. The guards pushed me inside and retreated, closing the doors, the sound echoed in my chest.
He stood with his back to me.
Taller than I remembered from my blurred vision. Broader. Black hair falling past his shoulders.
I heard Kael's voice from somewhere cold, commanding. "Everyone out."
Footsteps. Scurrying. The doors opening and closing.
The King turned.
I saw him fully for the first time. The face from my fractured memory, but sharper now, more devastating. Sharp jawline, grey eyes, thin lips, fair flawless skin…
His unique qualities were quite amazing if described but more terrifying when seen faced.
The way his eyes pieced on me knocked my breath.
My wild stirred out suddenly.
He moved close and I instinctively moved back just to be hit by something from behind me.
His hand wrapped around my throat, lifting me onto my toes, pressing me against the chamber wall. The other hand pulled out a sharp knife.
I stopped breathing.
He suddenly leaned in, his warm breath kissed my neck.
“The moon goddess has to be joking.”
His grip tightened the smallest amount.
“You can't be my f*****g mate.”
- Writer
