Unchosen: Tale of the wolfless and the cursed king

LENA The proposal was beautiful. I watched from the back of the crowd as Ronan dropped to one knee. The ring glittered under the light. People gasped. It was the kind of moment songs were written about. I just never imagined it would destroy me. “Scarlett of Frostfang,” Ronan said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “Will you be my wife?” Scarlett laughed, the pretty, practiced kind, and said yes before he finished the sentence. I didn’t move. I stood there with a cup of wine I had served and never been invited to drink, and I watched the boy I loved slip a ring onto another woman’s finger. I told myself to walk away. But I didn’t. Instead, I pushed through the crowd until I reached him. Until he saw my face. Then I called his name. Not loud, but audible enough to be heard. The celebration quieted. Usually, no one would care what a girl like me had to say. I mean, what would a weak, worthless, useless person have to say? I was labeled the leader of the mistakes, a term used to describe people who had no wolf. Heads turned, all eyes fixed on me. Ronan opened his mouth to speak. “Lena…this…” “You said you loved me,” I cut him short. A sharp prickle of tears formed in my tear gland. I fought to hold them back. “Three weeks ago you said it. You repeated it two nights ago. What’s…what’s going on?” Someone snickered in the crowd and made a comment. “Can a mistake be loved?” The once silent crowd burst into laughter. I didn’t need to look at their faces to know how true their mockery was. Even when it settled, another made a comment. “Wolfless” Ronan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.” “Tell me what?” He looked at me then. And what I saw in his eyes wasn’t love. It was pity. “This was always going to happen, Lena. You had to know that. A man like me can’t—” He stopped. Swallowed. “You don’t have a wolf. You never will. I have a family name to protect.” The courtyard was silent. I held his gaze for a moment longer than was comfortable for either of us. Tears flowed freely from my eyes. The look in his eyes said it all. That was the end. The end of two years of loving each other. I let my cup fall carelessly, turned around and walked off. ********** I cried exactly once that night, behind the storage shed where nobody went after dark. Then I wiped my face and went back to work. That was the thing about being nobody. Life didn’t pause for your grief. The next day, I worked as usual. It was worse because of the events of last night. Luckily, I didn’t cross paths with Ronan although I kept looking out for him. Of course he’d be in his room with his fiancée, frolicking like birds. By evening, the horn was blown. I knew the sound. Everyone in Frostfang knew it. The Sacrifice horn. Low, slow and final, like a heartbeat winding down. It was blown three times. The last time I heard the horn in our pack was six years ago. I remember vividly, the boy who was dragged out of his home. He was a mistake, just like me and the rest of the Wolfless children. Every year, a pack offers someone to be sacrificed to keep the darkness rising from the north away. This year, it was Frostfang’s turn. I was carrying clothes across the yard when Elder Grouse stepped into my path. Two guards flanked him. That was never a good sign. “Lena Ashvale,” he said. I set the clothes down slowly. “Elder?” “The council has made its decision.” He didn’t blink. “You have been selected as Frostfang’s sacrifice to Ghoulsville.” The words landed without drama. Just fell out of his mouth like they meant nothing. I looked at the guards. Then at him. My heart had recovered from its sudden drop and was now listening to my mind. There was only one word echoing in my head. Run. I didn’t think twice. I took off, sprinting exactly ten feet away before I was captured. “Please! Please! Let me go!” I begged. But the decision had been made. It was final, and no tears could take it back. “I know I am useless to all of you. But I deserve more than this. Please! Elder grouse!” His name was the last thing I mutttered before they tossed me into the wagon. I sat in the darkness for hours, bawling my eyes out. It was at the last hour that I regained my senses. The sudden urge to see Ronan reeled through me. I stood and started pounding on the door. “Let me out! I need to see Ronan!” No one responded. But I could see movements. I hit harder. “Hey! Please! I need to see Ronan! Please! I beg you! Let me see him this once!” The door swung open, revealing the face of an angry man. “You should be saying your last prayers by now,” he spat and shut the door. ****** The journey to Ghoulsville took two days. I watched from a hole as the land changed slowly at first, then all at once. Green gave way to grey. Trees thinned into twisted, leafless things. The air grew heavier.. The two guards escorting me stopped talking somewhere around the border and didn’t start again. When the fortress rose out of the fog, I understood why. It was enormous. Black stone walls that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Towers that disappeared into low clouds. No banners. No torches at the gate. Just the dark, and the weight of something very old pressing down on everything beneath it. I was tossed out of the wagon. “Hopefully, your blood is accepted. Leader of the mistakes,” one of them commented. The second pushed me forward. “Move! I wonder who will fight for them now she’s gone,” he mumbled. The gates opened without anyone touching them. I stood before it, watching the men who brought me leave on their horses. My first instinct was to turn around and run. Yet, something pulled me through the gates. From stories I was told, it was called the death wind. A wind that ushers you into your journey to the land of the dead. I walked further into the environment until two men dressed in blue robes came and took me gently by the arm. “What’s your name?” I hesitated because my focus was drawn away by the scene before me. He snapped his fingers in my face. “Your name,” “Lena. Lena Ashvale,” “You know why you’re here?” “Take me to him already,” I demanded. They exchanged a glance but did as I requested. They led me to the castle. Half way up, a man in red and white striped clothes bumped into us. He stared at me. I stared back. He looked about five years older than me. Young, obviously. Too young to be the king. “Who are you?” His voice was rough from exhaustion. Like he’d been running for hours. “Lena Ashvale,” I said. “Frostfang’s sacrifice.” Something shifted in his expression. Not softness exactly. More like recognition, though we had never met. He looked at my chains. Then he looked at the guard holding them. “Take those off.” “Lord Cassian, she is the sacri—” “I said,” Cassian repeated slowly, “take them off.” The chains hit the floor. I rubbed my wrists, kept my face still. Cassian turned and walked back the way he came, pausing once at the edge of the hall. “Someone bring her a room,” he said. “And a meal.”. “She’s not dying tonight. The king can finally see,” ***********************