This is New
1185 Words
The sound of snapping branches was deafening as they approached, with no intention of hiding.
"Hmm. Arrogant," Kaela observed.
"Or stupid." Talia countered.
Then the roll of feet over wet leaf litter. Not one set. Many. A small army. The scent hit next: unwashed fur, old blood, rot, and thick magic clinging to everything like smoke.
Rogues and something else. Something Talia was not familiar with.
They poured from the dark on both sides of the stone choke point—more than twice the number that had swarmed the riverbank. Eyes like coals. Ribs showing, mouths frothing. But they didn’t come wild or raging, not this time. They came calm, organized.
Behind them, a woman in a hooded mantle stepped into the shallow wash of moonlight—incredibly long fingers, with razor-sharp nails. Bare feet, in this filth, shocked Talia. Ankles smeared with muck. Bangles rattling low and slow at her wrists. The surrounding air pulsed like a heartbeat.
Witch. Talia hadn't met any, but she knew this was a witch. Her power rolled off her in waves.
Talia felt Alina’s fingers locked over hers. She shifted, angling her body to shield her sister fully. Her dagger in her hand now, ready. She had no idea when she liberated it from its sheath, but she was armed.
The rogues fanned, hemming them in. Lucian didn’t step back. He didn’t do anything at all. He watched, still as stone.
Thomas didn’t flinch, either. If anything, he looked… pleased. A quiet, coiled smugness warmed his features. Leon’s mouth curved as well.
And that—more than the rogues, more than the witch—turned Talia’s stomach to stones. She wanted to vomit.
He isn’t afraid.
He isn’t surprised.
Is he expecting them? Yes. He clearly knew them. Snake. She spat on the ground in disgust. The realization slid into place like a key into a well-oiled lock. Her breath stuttered; the pain followed fast and hot. Who are you? Talia thought.
She recognized one rogue who had attacked them at the river… but not directly attack Alina. They threatened, terrified her, but never actually attacked her. They tried to maim Talia, to cut her throat, and when that failed, they tried to drown her in the river. Looking back with new clarity, Talia realized they had tried to take Alina with them.
They were never there to kill Alina.
They were there to kill Talia.
Her chest squeezed. She looked at Thomas. She didn’t mean to. But she looked. And the naïve, childish part of her—the part that had believed the future he promised her—shattered, cracked all over again. How long had he been lying to her? Kaela whimpered inside, retreating in disappointment.
A single tear slipped hot and humiliating down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.
“Thomas,” she whispered, and the name felt like a bruise in her mouth. “You ass. You’ve allied with rogues and witches?”
Lucian’s head tilted the slightest degree. Casius’s gaze cut to his king; a silent question seemed to pass between them. Answered.
Talia didn’t look away from Thomas. She wanted him to know she understood now. Revealing his entire motive: “Is that why you were gone for so long at the Northern Summit? Not negotiating with packs—brokering with ferals and covens? Is that why you brought that hussy back with you? To our home? Is she part of this, too? Are you planning to push north and bleed into Montana under their protection?” Talia flung her arm at the hideous army behind him and gasped at the realization.
“Shut up, Talia,” Thomas growled. “Not another word. I command your silence."
His alpha aura shoved—hot, oily, a weight at the nape of her neck. It felt like a hand trying to make her bow.
It moved her exactly half a step in her mind. A nudge. That was all.
Not my Alpha anymore. Talia pushed back.
Kaela rose, snapping her teeth in contempt. Talia straightened. “No! You don't get to command me anymore!"
A flicker crossed Thomas’s face—confusion, then anger, then hatred.
Before he could speak again, Lucian did, soft enough that Talia almost missed his own anger underneath.
“Amaria,” he addressed the witch, speaking softly, but somehow the sound carried. “Why are you with these wolves?”
The hooded woman lifted her head. Her eyes were the strangest color, almost lavender. The pupils are pin-thin like a cat’s. When she smiled, nothing changed in her face.
“Your Majesty,” Amaria purred, a slight head bob in honor of his king status. “You know me. I'm flattered.” Her bracelets chimed like broken glass. “Our people were friends once.”
“No,” Lucian corrected. “We had a truce.”
A ripple went through the rogues—nervous, excited. Leon watched the exchange like a person attending a play he’d paid to see from the front row. Always a lover of chaos, a Loki of wolves. Thomas stayed very still, waiting.
Amaria’s lids lowered. “Truces expire. Debts do not.”
“What debt?” Casius growled.
Amaria didn’t look at him. “A bargain made under the moon and blood and stone. A king who asked in prayer for the marsh to open and hide his wounded. A gate I opened. A cost I named.” Her gaze slid back to Lucian, fond like a knife. She laughed, head thrown back, "And you thought you were praying to the Moon goddess! You paid half.”
The surrounding air shifted, stiffened. Talia didn’t know what any of that meant, but she understood one thing: Lucian’s stillness wasn’t calm. It was a restraint.
Thomas spread his hands. “This doesn’t have to be unpleasant. Hand over the girl.” He nodded lazily at Alina. "Keep the older one as a gesture of goodwill. She has charms you may find useful," Talia blushed furiously.
Alina flinched, amazed at his crudeness. Talia stepped closer to her sister, bringing them hip to hip, letting her voice go flat. “You will never touch her.”
Leon chuckled. “You think you get to decide, sweetheart?”
“Repeat, sweetheart,” Casius said softly, “and I will remove your tongue and wear it as a charm.”
Leon’s smile thinned.
Something shifted behind Thomas. The rogues parted. A tall, rangy wolf padded forward—scar split his muzzle, one ear torn to a ragged point. He was not shifted; he was wearing his wolf like a blade. He stared at Talia and showed a long, white tooth. The leader, maybe?
“Do it,” Thomas murmured, not even looking at him.
Amaria lifted her hands.
The smell hit first. Like sewage. Marsh gas, old iron, and water that sat too long. Symbols bled up under her feet, a deadly and dark ring rising like a snake uncoiling from the ground.
Talia had never seen witch magic before tonight. And she never wanted to see it again.
- Writer
