The Witch's Contract

MARKED

The dagger was cold against Elara Nightshade’s palm. Colder than the frostbitten earth beneath her knees. She stared at the contract on the ground. Yellowed parchment. Red wax seal with a wolf’s head, fangs bared like it was about to bite. Kade Blackwood’s name was written below in ink black as blood and twice as final.

“One year,” Kade said behind her. His voice was quiet now. That was worse than when he shouted. Quiet meant he was certain. “My name. My bed. My rules. Then you’re free.”

Elara didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. If she did, she’d see those silver eyes calculating how much she was worth, and her hands would shake. Instead she looked at Lyra.

Her little sister lay on the stretcher, chest barely rising. Grey skin had spread from her heart to her collarbone now. Black veins pulsed under the surface like they were alive. When Lyra exhaled, frost came out instead of breath.

Three days until full moon. Maybe two now.

Elara’s throat tightened. Her mother used to say magic always demanded payment. She’d thought it meant pain. Sacrifice. Rituals at midnight. She never thought it meant selling herself.

She pressed the blade to her finger. The cut was clean. Blood welled up, dark and immediate, dripping onto the parchment beside her signature line. It hurt less than watching Lyra die. It hurt less than failing again.

Elara wrote her name. _Elara Nightshade_.

The moment her blood touched the ink, fire shot up her arm. Not heat. Fire. It raced through her veins, branding her bones. The red wax seal melted, dripped, then reformed itself over both their names with a hiss. The bond snapped into place around her ribs like an iron collar she couldn’t see but could feel with every breath. Tight. Possessive. Permanent.

Kade inhaled sharply behind her. She heard it. A low, involuntary sound like a wolf catching scent of prey.

“It’s done,” he murmured. His boots crunched frost as he stepped closer. “You’re mine, witch.”

Elara flinched at the word. _Mine_. Not wife. Not Luna. Mine. Like she was property. Like she was a weapon he’d just claimed.

Kade rolled the contract and tucked it inside his coat, right over his heart. Then he reached down and hauled Lyra up like she weighed nothing. Like she was a sack of grain, not a dying girl.

“Guards,” he ordered without looking away from Elara. “Take her to the healers’ wing. Keep her alive for one year. That’s my order.”

Two wolves in human form stepped forward. Broad shoulders. Silver eyes. They lifted Lyra between them, careful now. Elara wanted to follow. Wanted to run after them and check Lyra’s pulse herself. But Kade’s hand closed around her wrist. His grip was iron. Warm. Too warm for a man who felt like winter.

“Not you,” he said. His thumb brushed the pulse point on her wrist. Once. Like he was testing her heartbeat. “You come with me.”

The palace gates groaned shut behind them. The sound was final. Like a coffin lid. Like the last door closing.

Inside, the Blackwood palace was worse than she imagined. Black stone walls rose three stories high. Torches burned with blue flame that gave no heat. The air smelled like snow, old blood, and wet fur. Wolves lined the halls in human form, bare arms crossed, eyes yellow and sharp.

They dropped into bows as Kade passed. Every single one. Alpha King. But every single one lifted their head to stare at her.

A witch. Walking beside their king. Unbound. Unchained.

Some looked disgusted. Lips curling back from teeth. Some looked hungry. Like they were calculating how fast they could sink claws into her throat if Kade gave the order. One young wolf whispered, “She killed the northern pups last winter.”

Kade didn’t stop. Didn’t correct them. He just tightened his grip on her wrist and dragged her forward.

Up a spiral staircase of black marble. Through corridors lined with wolf pelts and mounted antlers. Past doors carved with runes she didn’t recognize. The palace felt ancient. Violent. Like it remembered every death that happened inside these walls.

Finally he shoved open a set of double doors. Iron, inlaid with silver.

“The Luna’s chamber,” he said, throwing her inside like she was nothing. “Your room for one year.”

Elara stumbled. Caught herself on a post of the massive four-poster bed. Black silk sheets. A fireplace already burning though she hadn’t heard anyone light it. Windows of stained glass showing wolves running under a red moon. Tapestries of past Luna queens, all with silver eyes and dead smiles.

It was beautiful. It was a cage.

Kade turned to face her. For the first time he looked at her like she was a person, not a problem. “The year starts now. You sleep here. You eat here. You answer to me. Wear my mark. Bear my name. Try to run and my wolves will bring you back in pieces.”

He said it flat. No threat in his tone. Just fact. Like he was telling her the weather.

Elara’s chest tightened. The bond around her ribs pulsed once, agreeing with him. “Lyra,” she forced out. Her voice cracked. “I need to see her. The curse is spreading. Three drops won’t be enough and you know it.”

Kade’s jaw tightened. “The healers will keep her breathing. Three drops of my blood will slow the curse. That’s all you get today.”

“That’s not enough—”

“That’s the deal you signed, witch.” He cut her off, and his eyes flashed silver. “You wanted a contract. This is it. I give her life. You give me yours. Don’t like the terms? Should’ve thought of that before you bled on my parchment.”

He moved to leave. His hand was on the door when Elara’s voice cracked out, desperate. “Please. She’s all I have left.”

Kade paused. Didn’t turn. “Then you better learn to be useful, Luna.”

The door slammed. The lock clicked. Heavy. Final.

Elara rushed to the window. Down in the courtyard, she watched the guards carry Lyra into the healers’ wing. A stone building with no windows. Her sister’s face was almost all grey now. The black veins had reached her jaw. When the doors closed, Elara felt something inside her chest crack.

Three drops. That’s all Kade promised. Hessa said one drop breaks a curse, but Lyra was too far gone. She needed more. Gallons. Rivers. And Kade had only given three.

She was trapped in a gilded cage with a monster, and her sister was still dying. The contract didn’t save Lyra. It just bought her time.

Elara sank to her knees on the cold stone. The bond around her ribs pulsed again, hotter this time. Like Kade could feel her despair. Like he liked it.

A knock at the door. Soft, then firm. Three times.

“Midnight,” Kade’s voice came through the wood. Low. Commanding. It rolled through the bond and made her shiver. “Strip, Luna. I need to mark you.”

Elara pressed her back to the door. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Mark. Like cattle. Like property.

The year had just begun, and already she understood the price.