Symphony of Knives
1288 Words
Violet Graves
“Save Zerypina Sanguine Caine. That’s your job.” Lilith’s eyes bled crimson as she pressed the dagger into my palm, the hilt cold as a grave. “Your power . . . it’s the only thing capable of saving her. She’s your—”
“I don’t care what she is to me!” The words exploded out of me, raw and ragged. “She abandoned me. Left me to rot like I was nothing. But fine, I’ll save her. Not because I owe her anything. Because I’m not her. I won’t let someone die just to spite them.” My fingers clenched around the blade until my knuckles went white, until I felt the edge bite my skin. “And because she’s the only one who can end this war. She can’t die. And also her equal wouldn’t let her
Lilith’s sigh was heavy, ancient. “She’ll be devastated when she learns what you’ve done for her—”
“I’ll do it,” I cut her off. “I’ll try to warn the Alpha King.”
“You can’t.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Anyone who strengthens him dies. He’s a walking apocalypse, Violet. And there are eyes everywhere waiting for him to bond, to rise. Whoever mated to him always dies because they want to replace him.”
“Violet?”
Darius’s hand settled warm on my shoulder. I jolted, blinking back into the dim room. I’d been sitting at the small table, staring at nothing, lost in the dream that felt more like memory than fantasy.
“Oh no—”
He gave me that crooked smirk, but his eyes were careful. “Easy. Xav’s got you on lockdown today. Doesn’t want you . . . circulating.”
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Annual solidarity masquerade,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Alphas and Lunas from every allied pack descend on the castle. Tradition. He’s the King, he can’t skip it.”
“Are they all . . . loyal to him?” The dream’s blood and silver still clung to me.
Darius’s gaze sharpened. “No one defies him to his face. He’d smell the lie before it left their tongues. But behind his back?” He shrugged. “There are always knives waiting for a king’s spine.”
I looked down at my hands. “So I stay locked in this room like a dirty secret.”
“Masquerade, remember. Masks for everyone.” He paused. “He’ll probably spend the whole night staring at a wall.”
I swallowed. “He really loved her that much?”
Darius went still. For a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he exhaled, slow and pained. “More than loved. Worshipped. They grew up together, promised before they could shift. She was his first everything. First kiss, first fight, first heat. He was counting days until their pup was born. Used to walk around with this stupid, soft smile, hand on her belly like he couldn’t believe it was real.” His voice cracked, just slightly. “Now they’re both gone. I don’t blame him for being . . . what he is. Zerypina was the only one who managed to make him smile.”
Each word was a splinter under my skin. I had no history with him. No shared childhood. No equal power. I was a weak, wolf-less thing with spotty memories and a bond that apparently lived only in my chest. Zerypina had been his match in every way, Lycan-blooded, fierce, the Luna he’d chosen before the world even asked.
I was just the leftover.
“I’m okay,” I lied when he started to apologize.
He watched me for a long moment. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Do you think I did it?”
The tension in the room quickly changed when I asked him that. I shouldn’t because I know what’s gonna be his answer but I’m a stubborn b***h.
His eyes met mine. They’re sad and disappointed, “Yes.”
The single word punched the air from my lungs.
“Why would I?” My voice fractured. “Why am I even capable of something like that? And if I am, why are you still talking to me?” I can’t stop shaking my head, urging me to fight my tears.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Because the woman sitting here right now isn't Violet Graves who started that war. You’re . . . different. Softer. Lost. And because some stupid part of me thinks you might actually match him in a way he refuses to see. This realm needs you, Graves. I just hope he will learn to accept that soon.”
“Match him?” I laughed, wet and broken. “Just because I conveniently forgot I was a monster?”
“That’s not—”
“I don’t understand any of this!” Tears spilled hot down my cheeks. “What happens if I remember? If it turns out I really did kill her—kill their baby—what then?”
“Violet—”
“I was so stupid to think the bond meant something!” I stood so fast the chair scraped loud across the floor. “That maybe he’d—”
Darius caught my wrist as I turned to flee. “He won’t kill you right away. He’s too—”
“Don’t touch me.” I shoved him hard enough that he let go. “Just… treat me like the murderer you already believe I am. Like he does. So when the day comes that I remember and you all turn on me, it won’t rip what’s left of me apart.”
I fled before he could answer, tears blinding me as I hurried toward my room.
But voices—low, heated—stopped me just outside Xaverius’s private wing. His scent slammed into me like a drug: pine and storm and grief. My traitor body swayed toward it even as my heart screamed to run.
“So you’ve got a replacement for Zerypina now?” A deep, unfamiliar voice, another Alpha, maybe.
Xaverius laughed. The sound was jagged glass. “Over my dead f*****g body.”
“Then what the hell are you doing with Violet Graves? Why not just end her?”
“I need the truth,” Xaverius said finally, voice so low it vibrated through the walls. “I need to know exactly why she did it. Who she was shielding. Because the bastards who died in that war weren’t the masterminds—there are bigger players hiding. And when I find them…” A soft, deadly chuckle. “I’m going to slaughter every single one. Slowly. While she watches. I want her to feel it—every scream, every drop of blood—the way I felt it when she took my mate and my child from me.”
My knees buckled. I pressed a fist to my mouth to keep from sobbing out loud.
“So you’ll kill her after?” the other man pressed.
“Death would be mercy.” Xaverius’s voice cracked, raw with hate. “Every time I look at her, it hurts worse than the day I found Pina bleeding out. Those eyes—always mocking me, wearing Pina’s face like a cruel joke. It’s killing me all over again.”
I slid down the wall, curling into myself on the cold floor, his words carving out what little hope I had left.
He wasn’t just grieving. He was dying every day. He had to breathe the same air as me.
- Writer
