The Vein He Opened

Chapter 2 The Mockery Before Dawn

Whispers followed me all the way to the Great Hall.

Wolves crowded both sides of the frozen corridor. No one bothered to lower their voice.

"There goes the disgraced bride."

"She smashed the Alpha's medical supplies last night."

"Derrick will have her begging at the altar before noon."

I kept walking. The oak doors stood at the far end, guarded by two carved white wolves. Beneath my ceremonial tunic, the Winterheart Crystal sat in a hidden pocket against my ribs. Each step made its cold edge knock against my skin.

They thought I had started a lovers' quarrel. None of them knew the barrier's heart had already left its chamber.

The crowd opened ahead of me.

Derrick came through in silver-and-white ceremonial furs, with Elara attached to his arm. The color had returned to her cheeks since last night's interrupted feeding, though she had dusted them pale for the occasion.

He stopped in my way and smiled as if he had already forgiven me. Without greeting me, he held out the silver cup used in every winter rite.

The old custom required a woman of my bloodline to warm it before the Alpha drank. Derrick had always called that service a privilege.

I left the cup in his hand.

His arm remained out until people began to notice. He lowered it and faced me.

"Still playing games, Serena? I am willing to overlook last night's outburst. Do your duty, and we can forget it happened."

"Move."

Elara gave a small cough. Derrick's smile tightened.

"You need to remember your place."

I stepped around him. My shoulder clipped his ceremonial fur, and wine jumped over the rim of the cup.

He caught my upper arm. "I am your Alpha. Show some respect."

I looked at his hand until he followed my gaze. "Earn it."

Then I peeled his fingers off one at a time.

Someone in the corridor sucked in a breath. Elara hurried to Derrick and began asking whether I had hurt him. I left her to it.

Near the Great Hall doors, I slipped into an empty alcove. The jeers behind me had died to uneasy murmurs. I had expected anger. The shaking in my hands still annoyed me.

I pressed my palm over the crystal. A sliver of glass, caught there when the syringe broke, cut deeper. Blood marked the seam of my glove and warmed the crystal through the cloth.

It answered with one hard pulse.

"It feeds on your lifeblood," a man said from the dark end of the alcove. "Don't waste any on him."

I turned.

Kael leaned against the wall in the gray cloak of the Shadow Forest. The Lycan King's name was enough to send pups under their blankets. In person, he was taller than Derrick and broad enough to block the passage alone. He watched the blood on my glove instead of reaching for a weapon.

He pushed away from the wall and tossed me a dark vial.

I caught it. Silver liquid moved inside.

Moon-Nectar. He had handed me enough medicine to close a mortal wound.

A single drop could heal the worst injury. The vial held far more than that.

"Drink it," Kael said. "I won't claim a queen who bleeds out before her coronation."

My fingers closed around the vial. "Claim a queen?"

The ceremonial horns sounded inside the Great Hall. Their low note traveled through the floor and up my legs.

Kael glanced toward the doors. "You're late."

Before I could stop him, he walked through a servants' passage and was gone.

I pulled the stopper from the vial. The Moon-Nectar tasted cool and sweet. Warmth moved down my throat, and the cut in my palm closed beneath the glove.

Beyond the oak doors, the entire pack waited for its bride to kneel.

I put the empty vial away and walked in.