CHAPTER 6: THE PALACE OF SHADOWS
1087 Words
CHAPTER 6: THE PALACE OF SHADOWS
AIRA'S POV
Ironclaw rose from the mountains like a nightmare given stone.
Aira's breath caught as the massive obsidian gates groaned open, revealing a fortress of gleaming black spires that pierced the blood-red sky. The walls shimmered with veins of silver, catching the dying light like exposed ribs of some great beast. Every archway was carved with snarling wolves, their gemstone eyes following her as she passed beneath them.
The air smelled of power here.
Of money.
And something darker.
Her boots clicked against polished onyx floors as Xavier led their procession through the courtyard. Dozens of finely dressed courtiers bowed as he passed, their jewel-toned silks whispering against the stone. Their smiles were too bright, their laughter too sharp—like knives hidden beneath velvet.
Aira's fingers twisted in her tattered gray shift.
She was a stain in this glittering world.
A shadow among stars.
Darius fell into step beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. "Breathe, little wolf. They don't bite."
She shot him a look.
He grinned. "Much."
Then—
"Xavier."
The voice was honey and venom, dripping with false warmth.
A woman glided toward them, her crimson gown slashed to the thigh, revealing legs that went on forever. Her hair was a waterfall of midnight curls, her lips painted the same violent red as her dress.
Lyanna Voss.
Aira knew it before Darius muttered, "Royal advisor. Pain in my ass."
Lyanna ignored him, her amber eyes locked on Xavier. "You're late."
Xavier didn't smile. "I'm king."
Lyanna's laugh was a bell tolling. "And yet I still run this kingdom while you're off collecting strays."
Her gaze flicked to Aira.
Dismissive.
Cruel.
Aira's wolf bristled.
Then—
"Ama!"
A whirlwind of golden silk and sunshine barreled into Darius, nearly knocking him over. The girl—no, woman—was all soft curves and brighter smiles, her honey-brown eyes crinkling as she pressed a kiss to Darius's cheek.
"You smell like blood and bad decisions," she scolded, her fingers already plucking at his torn sleeve.
Darius caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Missed you too, darling."
Amara—Ama—rolled her eyes before turning to Aira. "You must be the omega everyone's whispering about."
Aira stiffened.
But Ama's smile was genuine. "Ignore them. They're all terrified Xavier brought home a queen."
Lyanna's nails clicked against the obsidian floor.
Xavier's voice cut through the tension. "Lyanna. Show Aira to her chambers."
Lyanna's smile was a razor. "Of course, my king."
She stepped forward, her perfume—something expensive and floral—choking the air between them. "Come along, omega."
Aira didn't move.
Xavier's gaze burned into her back.
Then he was gone, striding down the hall with Darius at his side, leaving her alone with the viper in silk.
Lyanna waited until his footsteps faded.
Then—
Her hand dug into Aira's arm, her nails drawing blood. "Listen carefully, discard," she hissed. "You may have fooled him, but you don't belong here."
Aira yanked free. "I didn't ask to come."
Lyanna's laugh was ice. "No. But you'll wish you'd stayed gone."
With that, she turned on her heel, her crimson skirts swirling. "Find your own way. If you can."
Then she was gone, leaving Aira standing alone in a palace of enemies.
Her wolf growled.
"This is our home now."
Aira wasn't so sure.
---
The room they'd given her was too beautiful to be a cage.
Aira stepped inside, her bare feet sinking into fur so white it glowed in the moonlight. The walls were draped in silver-threaded tapestries, each depicting scenes of Lycan glory—wolves tearing out throats, kings crowned in blood.
A fire roared in the hearth, its light dancing across the canopied bed—a monstrosity of black wood and silk sheets.
And the window—
Aira's breath caught.
It overlooked the entire kingdom, the lights of Ironclaw twinkling like fallen stars. The sky above was dark velvet, scattered with icy diamonds. Wind brushed against the high glass panes, but inside it was warm—safe, even.
She took a step forward. Then another. Her hand brushed the edge of the bed—smooth silk, so soft it felt like it would melt under her fingers. She'd never slept on anything like this. Not even close.
Aira wandered slowly through the chamber, almost afraid to touch anything. Her eyes swept over a carved vanity inlaid with moonstone, its surface gleaming. She moved to the hearth and held her hands toward the fire, letting its heat sink into her skin.
The scent of lavender and something citrusy hung faintly in the air. Clean linens. Burnt wood. Safety.
Her heart ached with how much she wanted to stay.
It wasn't just beautiful—it was hers. At least for tonight.
She opened the wardrobe, half expecting it to be empty, but fine gowns hung inside—velvets, satins, linens in every shade of moonlight and shadow. She touched a midnight-blue one reverently. Her fingers trembled.
No one had ever prepared a space for her before.
Not like this.
A knock sounded.
Ama peeked in, balancing a tray of food. "Thought you might be hungry."
Aira's stomach growled.
Ama grinned, setting the tray down. "Lyanna's a b***h, but the kitchens listen to me."
Aira eyed the spread—roasted meats, fresh bread, fruits she'd never even seen before. There were silver goblets filled with something sweet and warm-smelling, a delicate honey glaze dripping from soft rolls.
"Why are you being nice to me?"
Ama's smile faded. "Because I was you once."
She reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Aira's ear. "Darius found me half-dead in the borderlands. Lyanna hated me too."
Aira's throat tightened. "What changed?"
Ama's eyes gleamed. "I stopped caring what she thought."
Then, softer—"And neither should you."
She left with a wink, the door clicking shut behind her.
Aira turned back to the window.
To her reflection.
To the kingdom waiting beyond.
Her fingers found the ribbons in her hair.
One tug.
They fell like severed bonds.
She stared down at them on the stone floor, then walked to the bed.
She lay back slowly, her limbs sinking into the mattress like it was a cloud spun from silk and warmth. The firelight flickered across the canopy above her, casting shadows like dancing spirits.
For the first time in years, Aira didn’t feel hunted.
She didn’t feel small.
She felt... like maybe she belonged.
And that terrified her.
- Writer
