Chapter 9—Let Them Mourn.
1640 Words
Chapter 9—Let Them Mourn.
Kyra
The hand on my shoulder made me spin.
Instincts kicked in, hands half raised ready to protect myself but I paused midway.
“Easy,” the male whose hand was on my shoulder spoke, his eyes lighting up in amusement as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.
He was tall, almost the same height as Tristan. A pale scar ran across his left eyebrow down the bridge of his nose narrowly missing his eyes. If it had cut any deeper, he definitely would have been losing an eye.
“You startled me,” I muttered, trying to keep my racing heart calm. For a moment there, I thought..
“Right…” he drawled, his eyes assessing me. His voice was even, calm, but there was something in his eyes before they turned cold stone. Empty. Almost like Tristan's. Why the hell was I comparing this male to Tristan? Maybe it was the way he stood, his mannerisms that reminded me of him. That air of superiority and calm demeanor, even though beneath was a different thing, and those eyes… those piercing eyes that seemed to see through me as if they could uncover every secret I held. Which was quite unnerving, to say the least.
He jerked his chin towards me. “What are you doing here?” Then his eyes settled on the open door and he frowned, “and that room is out of bounds. You shouldn't even be here."
Before I had the chance to speak he side-stepped and grabbed my arm. “Come on. Everyone has been searching for you.”
I followed in silence, my pulse still racing. My eyes stared backward at the open door wondering if the people were still there or had left. But the itch to know who they were, what they were talking about? ran deeply.
It was obvious that they were plotting. Against who? I wasn’t sure...
Maybe it was me. After all, it was obvious no one in the pack liked me.
I was led up a narrow flight of stairs and down a quieter wing. The place was as empty as a graveyard. I wonder if anyone lived on this floor or maybe the pack members were somewhere else mourning their loved ones.
We finally arrived at a door which he pushed open and then gestured in.
“This should be yours. For now.” He murmured, his eyes straying inside and then they lit up when a figure came into view.
I let my eyes take in the view. It wasn't exactly all rosy or princess-like- like but it was a far cry from the windowless cell I was into. A single bed, an empty shelf, and a single rose on the dresser.
This will do. A bed, and a roof? It was enough for me to gather my strength, figure out what that damn witch had done to me, plan my way out, and survive of course.
“I found her,” he said, addressing a female. Her eyes were briefly on me, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking but this was the first time someone wasn’t looking at me with daggers or disdain in their eyes and I didn't know if I should be relieved or worried.
She nodded, “I will take care of her, Kallum. Go help Tristan prepare." Her eyes softened as she spoke, lingering on him a little longer.
"But..."
"Go." She encouraged. They held eyes for a moment before he nodded and then left.
"Tristan asked me to bring this to you," she pointed towards a closed closet which I assumed had the clean clothes I requested. I nodded, still standing awkwardly.
"Are you going to leave or...." I found myself asking.
"Nope," she sat on the edge of the bed with a thump. "You're a prisoner here, princess. Don't forget it"
I hated the way she said it. As if she were mocking me. And the way she looked at me? Like I was a fascinating specimen under a glass
I ignored her and slipped away to the bathroom. As the warm water cascaded down my shoulder, it reminded me of home. Of what I once had and it took every willpower in me not to break down. To open that old somewhat fresh jar of pain and drown in it.
When I stepped out, she was still there, of course. I guess I wasn't trusted enough to be left alone.
"You know he hates you right?” She stated flatly. “And will do anything to see you suffer."
"Isn't it obvious?" I shrugged like dying in the hands of a man I wasn't really sure my offense was didn't bother me but I had a plan now. Keep my head low, heal, find a way to break out of this blood pact, and settle my scores with Elora and the elders.
A small smile appeared on her face, which was a first considering she was the only person in the pack to have ever looked at me with anything other than hatred. "I should hate you, hate what your bloodline caused us but then..." She rose, walked closer to me, and paused, "There is something about you I can't place my fingers on."
She moved back, clearing her throat. "Get dressed, I will be back to take you to the funeral." And then she was gone.
I was finally left alone to collect my thoughts but everything was a shambles. Everything was filled with pain, with hurt so I did the only thing I was very good at, I tucked it. I tucked it at that far end, lifted my chin, and began to dress.
《《》》
The funeral was held in the main courtyard and the full moon shone so brightly as if it was mourning with the Banewolff pack.
Rows of bodies lay wrapped in white clothes, some with their weapons placed around them to signify they were warriors during their time of living.
I stood at the back, keeping my pace. Even if I didn't know these people, I knew this wasn't the right time to show my face to them. Not when they were already accusing me of their loss. I wasn't going to make this about me but let them focus on their loss, let them mourn in peace without me interfering. Hell, if it were left to me I'd rather not be here.
Tristan stood at the front alongside the male, Kallum, and that sharp eyed female and.. Carrie. His shoulders were squared, his eyes barely flickering through the crowd. I could feel the ache in my chest that wasn't mine. An ache that was all Tristan's and I almost swore. Curse the bond.
Somehow I felt a teeny bit of pity for him. To have one lose its pack members in such a tragic way was unbearable.
My chest stirred again as a dose of shame and pain wrecked through me and I looked away. I didn't want to feel this. I didn't want to feel what he was feeling. I didn't want to feel pity for him. If anything I should hate him for reducing me to nothing but his prisoner.
The names of the dead were read. With each name, wolves howled into the sky, long and mournful. Women cried, and children mourned their parents. My father's face burned in my mind. His laugh. His eyes. His last moment.
I watched in silence yet wondering why I was being made to witness a grief that had nothing to do with me, a grief that I couldn't relate to, and yet somehow grief filled my heart and I knew it wasn't only Tristan's. It was mine too.
Maybe, just maybe I could use this time to mourn my father.
After the rite was done and the last flame died down, people began to file out. Tristan looked up and locked eyes with me.
I turned to move but he lifted his fingers in a sign to stay. I wanted to disobey him just for but instead I stayed even if I didn't know why.
When the courtyard was empty save for Callie, Kallum, and the sharp eyed female. He walked to where I was.
“A little birdie told me you were caught sniffing around the western wing today," he said.
I almost scoffed. Was this why he kept me back? "I got lost. Not like I was given a tour of the pack before."
That was very true. What wasn't was the part I didn't tell him about the conversation I heard through the door. The plotting, that was what it was.
"Hmm. I will take that even if I don't trust you." I didn't argue with that and yet I was tempted to tell him what I heard. If anything to keep myself alive, if he dies, so do I.
"I... when..."
"Tristan."
"Alpha." Callie walked in, her sharp eyes hardening as they landed on me before she looked away. "There’s something urgent I need to discuss with you."
"Just a minute, Callie."
"It can't wait." She countered impatiently.
Tristan nodded. "We will have this conversation later." Then he dragged her away.
Dismissed.
Of course, I was dismissed. Just like that. No word, nothing.
I walked away, keeping the same tracks that the sharp eyed female had led me through until I arrived at the door of my new room.
I pushed the door open, ready to collapse onto the bed…
But froze.
Lying dead center on the sheets, was a single piece of paper. A single piece of paper that wasn't there before.
My pulse spiked as I reached for it.
“Go back to where you come from or break the bond.”
- Writer
