Blood moon oath

“Move," barked the guard behind her, shoving the small of her back. Adele Green stumbled forward, heels scraping against the blood-red stone of the ceremonial aisle. Velvet banners fluttered above, catching crimson light from the twin moons overhead. Her veil clung to her breathless face. “Don't faint now," another guard muttered. “Wouldn't want to disappoint your royal groom." She didn't answer. Couldn't. Every muscle in her body screamed to run, but chains of duty — and a far crueler kind — held her still. Her hands, gloved in silver lace, trembled as the cathedral doors opened to a sea of wolf-shifters cloaked in court finery. "Is that her?" a courtier whispered. "The bastard of Silverfang?" "Looks too soft to be a spy." "But they say she's got wild blood. Something cursed." Adele's fingers curled tighter around the small ration tag tucked inside her sleeve. The only thing left from her childhood. Her name—misspelled and smudged—was still legible. Adele. Not Lady Green. Not princess. Just Adele. The High Priest's voice boomed. “By decree of the Vicar throne, this union binds Alpha blood to Silverfang's loyalty. Let none challenge this sacred bond." She stopped before the obsidian altar, where stood Prince Reno Vicar—tall, broad-shouldered, and expressionless as ever. His golden eyes swept over her like a soldier scanning a battlefield. “Do you swear your loyalty, Adele Green?" the priest asked. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Reno's jaw flexed. “She doesn't speak?" “She knows how," a noble chuckled from the pews. “She's just clever enough to stay silent." Still she said nothing. Not out of fear. Out of fury. Out of quiet rebellion. If this was to be her cage, she would choose how to rattle it. The priest hesitated. “Very well. By blood and bond—" A sudden howl interrupted the ceremony. Then another. Wolf courtiers threw back their heads, their calls echoing against the marble dome. Reno raised a hand. “Silence." But it was too late. A figure emerged from the aisle—Captain Jareth, head of the palace guard. He knelt, offering a scroll. “Forgive the interruption, Your Highness. But a report just arrived from the Eastern Spire. A spy crossed the border last moon. Female. Of Silverfang blood." Gasps rippled through the crowd. Adele's fists clenched. “She fits the description," Jareth added, his tone low and dangerous. “Slipped through guard posts. No family registry. No official invitation. Could be a plant." Reno turned to her. “Well?" Adele stared back, veil unmoving. Her heart thundered beneath her ribs, but her eyes stayed cold. “Refusing to deny it, I see." Reno motioned. Two guards seized her arms. “She's a gift from Silverfang!" the priest protested. “You can't just—" “She may be a gift," Reno snapped, “but I don't accept poisoned ones." He stepped forward. With one swift motion, he ripped the wedding cloak from her shoulders. Gasps turned to murmurs. Adele didn't flinch. Reno's voice lowered, meant for her alone. “You should've spoken." Still, nothing. “Take her," he said at last. She was dragged through the side door, metal clinking around her ankles as the aisle behind her filled with scandalized whispers. --- ##Hours Later — Palace Dungeons Chains slammed against stone as she was thrown into the cell. “Enjoy your suite, princess," the guard sneered. She sat up slowly, eyes adjusting to the damp dark. A cold wind blew from the iron grates overhead. Across the room, a faint flicker of light revealed an ancient set of manacles bolted to the wall—shimmering faintly with runes. The Maw Chain. Even in Silverfang, she'd heard of it. Once used to bind royal traitors. With a clang, the guards locked her wrists in place. "She's lucky he didn't order an execution," one muttered as they left. She exhaled. Alone. Until… “New prisoner?" a raspy voice echoed from the next cell. A pale old woman leaned toward the bars, eyes milky but sharp. “They call me Vika. Used to be a midwife before I stitched the wrong birth ledger." Adele blinked. “You're mute or just stubborn?" She remained silent. Vika chuckled. “Smart. Talking's overrated. But you're going to need more than silence to survive this place." A rustle. Something slid under the bars. A bent piece of metal. “Rusty, but she still sings," Vika whispered. “Use it when the thunder comes. Drowns out the sound of sawing." Adele reached for the wire, fingers brushing against damp stone. She tucked it beneath her sleeve. “Why help me?" she asked at last, her voice cracking. Vika smiled. “Because you didn't cry when they threw you in. And because I know a mother when I smell one." Adele stiffened. “Mm-hm. That cloak you wore? Reeked of early pregnancy. You're hiding more than just a name, girl." Footsteps echoed above. Adele clutched the ration card again. Reno's voice, muffled but distinct, filtered down. “Let her rot until she speaks. Or dies. I don't care which." A pause. “…No, wait. I want her answer in writing. Make her sign a confession. Foreign spy. Plot to assassinate. Whatever you have to do." Vika spat. “Typical wolves. Kill first, think later." Adele's jaw tightened. Then she whispered, barely audible, “I'll survive." Vika leaned closer. “Good. Then time your escape with the next storm. They come every third night." Lightning cracked far above the towers. Adele wrapped her fingers around the wire. And waited. ---