Chapter 10: The Wolf in the Mask
1041 Words
The silence in the Great Hall was so heavy I could hear the sizzling of the poison as it finished eating through the stone floor. Kaelen’s fingers were still wrapped around the edge of my iron mask. I could feel the heat from his hand through the cold metal. His Alpha aura was a crushing weight, making it hard for anyone in the room to even draw a breath.
"I said unmask," Kaelen repeated. His voice was like a low vibration in the floor.
I looked at Silas. He was standing by the table, his face a mask of controlled rage. He knew that if I took off this mask I might talk. He knew that I had just seen him attempt to murder an Alpha.
"Kaelen, wait," Silas said, stepping forward. He tried to make his voice sound calm, but I could hear the sharp edge of panic underneath. "The guard clearly assaulted you. Look at the floor. The drink was ruined, and your dignity was insulted in front of the entire Council. A rogue like this doesn't deserve to show their face. They deserve to be executed on the spot."
Kaelen turned his head slightly to look at Silas. A dark, mocking smile played on his lips. "Executed? For being a bit over-eager? No, Silas. I think I’ll keep her."
Kaelen let go of my mask and rested his hand heavily on my shoulder. The physical contact sent a jolt of heat through my body, and the mate bond flared in response.
"This one is my favored pet," Kaelen announced to the room. His voice was arrogant and loud. "She’s a bit clumsy, but she has a nose for trouble. It was lucky the glass fell. It seems the wine was spoiled anyway. Perhaps my servants should be the ones being executed for serving me acid."
Silas didn't blink. He wasn't buying it. He looked at me, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to peer through the iron slits of my mask. He knew I wasn't just a "clumsy pet."
"If she is so favored," Silas said, his voice dripping with venom, "then she should have no trouble proving her worth. In my pack, we do not allow guards to lay hands on an Alpha without a trial of honor. Let her fight my best warrior. If she wins, we will call it 'luck' and move on. If she loses, she dies here and now for the insult."
The room erupted in whispers. This was a challenge Kaelen couldn't easily refuse without looking weak.
"Fine," Kaelen said. He squeezed my shoulder once, a silent warning, before stepping back. "Nyx, show the High Alpha how we train in the Iron Claw."
The center of the hall was cleared. The envoys stood back, forming a wide circle of fur and steel. Silas signaled to one of his men, a massive warrior with a scarred face and a jagged silver blade. This was a man I recognized from the fighting pits. He was a killer who didn't know the meaning of mercy.
I stepped into the circle. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. I had to fight, but I couldn't use the Silver Moon style. I had to fight like a rogue, like a scavenger.
The warrior lunged at me without warning. He was fast, his blade whistling through the air. I ducked and rolled, the heavy iron mask making my head feel off-balance. I swung my spear, the wooden shaft clashing against his steel.
The crowd roared. Every time I moved, I felt Silas’s eyes on me. He was studying me, watching the way I pivoted, the way I distributed my weight. He was a master hunter, and he was looking for a signature, a sign of who I really was.
The warrior was relentless. He slammed his shoulder into my chest, sending me reeling back toward the table. I tasted blood in my mouth. Before I could recover, he swung his blade in a wide arc.
I moved to block, but I was a second too late.
The edge of his sword didn't hit my neck, but it caught the side of my iron mask. There was a loud, metallic ping. The leather straps holding the mask to my face snapped.
The mask didn't fall off, but it shifted. It hung by a single, frayed thread, tilting dangerously to the side. One more move, and my face would be exposed to the entire Hall.
I didn't wait for him to strike again. I dropped my spear, grabbed the warrior’s arm, and used his own bulk to flip him over my shoulder. He hit the stone floor with a bone-shaking thud. I dropped to my knees, pinning his throat with the edge of my hand until he stopped struggling.
The fight was over. I had won.
I stood up quickly, holding my hand to the side of my face to keep the mask from falling. My breathing was ragged, and sweat was stinging my eyes.
Kaelen was at my side in an instant. He didn't wait for the applause. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight and urgent. "The guard is injured," he said to the room, his voice a growl. "The feast is over."
He began to pull me toward a dark hallway leading away from the Great Hall. We moved fast, the shadows swallowing us. I could hear my own heart hammering in my ears. I just needed to get to a room, to a door, to somewhere I could hide.
But the sound of a cane hitting the stone floor followed us.
"Stop!" Silas shouted.
We froze at the end of the hallway. Kaelen turned, pulling me behind his broad back, but Silas was already there. He was standing in the light of a single torch, his face twisted into a look of pure, horrified realization.
He wasn't looking at my mask. He was looking at my eyes through the tilted gap in the iron.
"I recognize those eyes," Silas whispered. His voice was shaking, but not with fear. It was with a cold, murderous fury.
He stepped closer, his cane raised like a weapon.
"Vespera?" he shouted. "Vespera, is that you?"
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