Silver Eyes

Six Days

I left Luna's chambers feeling lighter, but as soon as I closed the door, the lightness vanished.

Because I hadn't told Luna the whole truth. I hadn't told her that the owner of the red gown might not be Sandro. That the note didn't sound like him.

I needed to know who sent it. And there was only one person who could tell me.

The sun was setting by the time I reached Zenilda's hut again. I didn't bother knocking this time. I pushed the door open.

Zenilda was not alone.

A man stood inside her hut, tall, cloaked in black, his face hidden. But I could see his hands. Pale, elegant, with long fingers. And I could smell him. Cold rain and old books. Winter and power.

My heart stopped. Then started again so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest.

"Sandro?" I whispered.

The man turned. The hood fell back.

It wasn't him. It was a vampire I had never seen before. Ice-blonde hair, eyes like pale blue ice, handsome in a cruel, sharp way. He looked at me with surprise, then with something like recognition.

"Well," he said, his voice like frost. "You must be her."

Zenilda stood up so fast her chair fell over.

"Veronica! What are you doing here? I told you not to come back until -"

"Until what? Until you finished plotting with him?" I stared at the blonde vampire, my silver eyes flaring, my hand instinctively going to the spot where my dagger would be. "Who are you? Are you one of his Blood Generals? Did he send you to spy on me?"

The blonde vampire raised his hands, amused.

"Easy, little wolf. I am not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite. My name is General Rhys. I am King Sandro's second. And you... you are the reason my King has not slept, eaten, or held a coherent war council in three days. He bleeds from a wound that won't close and he stares at the forest like a lost pup. It's pathetic, really."

My mouth fell open. "He... he is hurt?"

"His palm," Rhys said, pointing to his own palm. "Where he cut himself to heal you. Royal blood claims are... binding. When the claimed mate is in distress, the wound opens. When she is heartbroken by the river, it bleeds. You made him bleed a lot last night, Princess."

The crimson veins on my back pulsed with guilt and something else. Worry.

"Why are you here?" I asked, trying to sound angry instead of worried.

"Because my King is too proud to come himself, and too... let's say, compromised, to think straight. And because someone in my court sent you a dress that was not from him, and we need to find out who before you walk into a trap wearing it."

The black box. He knew about the red gown.

"How did you -"

"Zenilda told me," Rhys said, nodding to the witch who was looking pale. "We have... an arrangement. She tells me when the Veil ripples. I make sure her hut doesn't accidentally burn down during border skirmishes."

Zenilda glared. "We have a truce, vampire. Don't make it sound so sinister."

"So who sent the gown?" I demanded.

Rhys's ice-blue eyes turned serious.

"That is what I am trying to find out. The Blood Moon Ball is in six days. Every noble in Brixhes will be there. Including Lady Seraphine."

"The witch," I said, the name tasting like poison. "His mate."

Rhys laughed, a short, humorless laugh.

"Lady Seraphine is not his mate, little wolf. She is a very powerful, very ambitious witch who saved my King's life two hundred years ago. My King owes her a debt. He is letting her play Queen to keep his elders off his back while he tries to secure peace with your kind. She believes if she plays her role well enough, he will make it real. She does not know about you. If she finds out a werewolf with silver eyes is her King's true fated mate... she will not be happy. And a jealous witch with access to the Queen's chambers is more dangerous than any army."

He stepped closer, and I forced myself not to step back.

"Someone in the palace wants you to come to the ball. Someone who knows what you are. The gown is vampire silk, only the high nobles can afford it. The note... 'Let's party'... that sounds like Lady Seraphine's handwriting. She likes to play games. She wants to expose you in front of the entire court. To humiliate you. To force Sandro to reject you publicly to keep his throne."

My hands clenched into fists. The silver in my eyes swirled with red.

"Let her try."

Rhys smiled, and this time it was a real smile, sharp and approving.

"Goddess, you are exactly what he needs. No fear. Just fury." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, black velvet pouch. He tossed it to me. I caught it.

Inside was a necklace. A simple silver chain with a single, teardrop-shaped moonstone that glowed faintly white.

"Wear this under the gown," he said. "It will hide the claim on your back. His blood glows when he is near you, especially when he is... feeling possessive. Which, with you in that dress, he will be. Constantly. If Seraphine sees the claim before he is ready to announce you, she will try to kill you on the spot."

I stared at the moonstone. It was warm in my palm.

"Why are you helping me?" I whispered. "You don't even know me. I am a werewolf. Your enemy."

Rhys's smile faded. He looked out the small window of the hut, towards Brixhes.

"Because I have served King Sandro for two hundred years. I have watched him be cold, ruthless, perfect. I have watched him carry this kingdom on his back alone, with no mate, no heir, no one to share the weight. The night he came back from the forest three days ago, with your blood on his lips and your scent on his coat, was the first time I have ever seen him look alive. He looked... hopeful. And hope is a very dangerous thing for a King to have. It makes him vulnerable. So if you are going to be his weakness, little wolf, you need to be strong enough to survive being a King's weakness. Do you understand?"

I nodded slowly, clutching the moonstone.

"Six days," Rhys said, pulling his hood back up. "The Blood Moon Ball. Midnight. Wear the red. Wear the stone. And Veronica Althea..."

He paused at the door, his ice-blue eyes meeting my silver ones.

"When you see him, and he looks at you like you are the only soul in the room... try not to look too scared. He likes it when you fight him. It reminds him you are Alpha-born."

And then he was gone, moving so fast he was just a blur of black, leaving only the faint scent of winter behind.

I stood in Zenilda's hut, holding a moonstone from my vampire mate's general, with a red gown hidden in my closet and a ball in six days that could start a war or end one.

Zenilda walked up and put a hand on my shoulder.

"You are in so much trouble, child," she whispered.

"I know," I said, and for the first time, I smiled, and my silver eyes glowed with red embers, bright and unafraid. "But I'm going to wear that damn dress anyway."

Far away, in his black tower, King Sandro pressed his bleeding palm to his chest and felt a sudden flare of defiant, reckless courage through the bond, so bright it made his own dead heart beat once, hard, after three hundred years of silence.

She was coming.

His little wolf was coming to his palace, in red.

And he had six days to figure out how to keep his court from killing her before he could finally claim her properly.