Bride Of The Beast

The rite

The morning did not bring the soft, golden light of a new beginning. As I sat by the window in my chambers, the silk of my morning gown felt like a shroud. My body still ached—a dull, rhythmic thrumming in my lower back and the sharp, stinging memory of the bite on my neck.

I had survived the ball, I survived Mila. But as I watched the mist roll off the black cliffs, I didn't feel like a survivor. I felt like a man standing on a narrowing ledge, watching the ground crumble beneath his feet.

A sharp, rhythmic rapping at the door made me flinch. "Enter," I said, pitching my voice into a soft, breathless register I had practiced.

The door swung open to reveal two guards in the silver-and-black livery of the Royal Council. Behind them stood Denis. His usual playful smirk was entirely absent, replaced by a grim set to his jaw that made my stomach drop. What now?

"Lady Raven," one of the guards intoned, his voice as cold as the stone walls. "The High Council requests your immediate presence in the Chamber of Pillars. The King is in attendance."

My pulse spiked. "The Council? For what reason?"

"It is not our place to say, Your Grace," the guard replied. "We are to escort you. Now."

Wonderful. Escorted to my death or a very long meeting. I’m not sure which is worse.

I looked at Denis. He gave a microscopic shake of his head. I interpreted it to mean: Don't fight it. Don't ask questions.

I rose from the chair, my legs feeling like lead. I had to physically lock my knees to keep them from trembling. I smoothed the front of my dress, checked the silk binds beneath the bodice with a subtle press of my forearm, and followed them out.

The walk through the castle felt like a funeral procession. The servants we passed bowed low, but they didn't look me in the eye. The news of Mila’s exile had clearly traveled fast. I was no longer just the "human bride"; I was a dangerous variable that had already claimed a noble's head.

The Chamber of Pillars was huge, designed to make humans feel small and wolves feel powerful. Twelve massive pillars of gold rose toward a vaulted ceiling, and at the far end sat a semicircle of ancient, grey-haired men. These were the Alphas of the old blood, the ones who held the laws of Caravia in their weathered hands.

The King sat in the center, his expression unreadable, a crown of dark iron resting on his brow. Eilís was nowhere to be seen.

I stepped into the center of the hall and Denis remained a few paces behind me.

"Raven Dierna," the oldest of the councilors began. His voice was like grinding stones. "You have been in our court for less than a week, and already the blood of our nobility is spilled at your feet. Lady Mila has been cast out, yet the whispers she started have not left with her."

I bowed my head, keeping my eyes on the floor. "I only seek to serve the Prince and the crown, my lords."

"Service is not enough," another councilor snapped. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "The North is in unrest. The people hear of a human mate, a 'weak' bond, and they see it as an invitation to rebellion. They claim the Prince’s wolf is compromised—that his power is diluted by your humanity."

He stood up, his cloak sweeping the floor. "The laws of the Pack are ancient. A mate is not merely a companion; a mate is a tether. If your bond with Prince Eilís is real, it must be proven. Not through words or silk dresses, but through the Blood Sync."

I felt the air leave my lungs. "I don't understand."

"The Wolf Hunt," the King’s voice cut through the room, quiet and heavy. I looked up to find him watching me with a strange, clinical pity. "Tomorrow is the dawn of the New Moon. The Council demands that you participate in the Rite of the Chase. You will be sent into the forest of the Black Ridge. You will be the quarry, and Eilís will be the hunter."

"You want him to hunt me?" I whispered, the horror of it cold in my veins. I remembered the night of the claim, the way his eyes had glowed, the way he had looked at me like I was nothing but meat and bone. What if he lost control?

"If the bond is true," the old councilor said, "his wolf will find you, but he will not harm you. He will 'claim' you in the wild, and you will return to us together, your scents intertwined by the forest itself. But if he loses control... if the bond is a lie and his wolf sees you only as prey..."

He let the sentence hang in the air, but the meaning was clear. If the bond failed, I wouldn't be coming back. I would be a carcass in the snow, a "tragic accident" that would allow Eilís to find a "proper" wolf bride.

A cold sweat broke across my brow, The "Blood Sync." It was a death sentence wrapped in the language of tradition. They were testing the limit of Eilís's sanity, using my life as bait.

"The Rite begins at moon-rise," the King added, his voice devoid of the strange softness he’d shown me before. "You are dismissed, Raven. Prepare yourself.”

I bowed, my movements mechanical. I turned and walked out of the hall, the rhythmic click of my heels against the marble sounding like a countdown. Denis followed a few paces behind, maintaining the proper distance of an attendant.

We didn't speak as we passed the guards, and we didn't speak as we crossed the main gallery. It wasn't until we reached the drafty, stone corridor leading to the North Wing that Denis stood by my side.

"They’re going to kill me," I said. My voice was thin, but I kept the feminine pitch, even though my throat felt like it was closing up.

Denis didn't look at me. He kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead, his expression tight. "The Council is looking for a solution, Raven. The rebels are using your presence to claim the throne is weak. This hunt... it is the only way to silence them. But there are rules you must follow before the chase even begins."

I stopped walking, more rules? I almost groaned. "Rules?"

"The Blood Feast comes first," Denis said, finally turning to look at me. He flashed me a pitiful smile. "Before the 'quarry' is released into the woods, the Council requires a show of compatibility. You will be expected to sit at the high table and eat with the Alphas. And you will be served what they eat."

My stomach did a slow, sick roll. Did they eat humans? "Which is?"

"Rare meat," he replied. "Blood-warm and barely seared. It is meant to prove that your human constitution can handle the diet of a prince’s mate. If you heave, if you refuse, or if your 'delicate' human stomach fails you in front of the elders, the hunt is forfeited. And a forfeited hunt is an admission that the bond is a lie."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "They want me to eat raw flesh like an animal? To prove I’m worthy of being hunted by one?"

"Precisely," Denis said, his voice clipped. "I suggest you find a way to keep it down. If you can't survive the meal, you certainly won't survive the Black Ridge."

"How fascinating," I let out a bitter laugh.

My father sold me to a beast, and now the beast's family wants to see if I can stomach the same gore he does. Was this the standard hospitality for Caravian brides? Or just the ones they suspect of being... unfit?

Denis continued. "It is the law, Raven. Eilís hasn't been told yet. They wanted to see if you would bolt. If you try to flee the castle now, the guards have orders to treat you as a traitor. You’ll be dead before you reach the tree line."

Wow, they wasted no time on that. I bet they wanted to get back at me for Mila.

"So I just wait to be hunted?" I looked at him.

"Go to your rooms," Denis said, ignoring my concerns. "Your attendant has been instructed to prepare you. And just so you don't hyperventilate before the feast, I advise you not to chew, just swallow, that'd be more effective.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

“Just so you know, we don't exactly fancy raw meat. They just want to do this to get to you.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, his boots echoing against the cold stone.

I watched him go, feeling more alone than I had since the day my father told me I was going to Caravia.