THE FORSAKEN LYCAN PRINCESS.

CH 6..

Beatrice’s rough fingers dug into the threadbare collar of my tunic, the coarse linen tightening violently against my windpipe. I could feel the cold, sharp air of the parlor rushing across my exposed collarbone as the seam began to give way with a sickening, high-pitched tear.

No. No, no, no.

Beneath the thin fabric, resting flat against my ribcage, the heavy silver disk of the Cresthaven token felt like a molten ember. If that cloth ripped another inch, the heavy velvet pouch would slide down my chest and clatter directly onto the dark mahogany floor.

Victoria’s bloodshot eyes were fixed on me like a hawk watching a dying animal. Tanya stood just behind her, a triumphant, cruel smirk twisting her delicate lips as she leaned forward to watch my absolute undoing. In a matter of seconds, they would see the ancient lunar tracking rune. They would scent the lingering, untraceable herbs of my uncle’s high seers. Gerald would be dragged to the courtyard and flayed alive for high treason before the sun reached its peak. My uncle Valerius and the entire Cresthaven bloodline would be branded as rogue conspirators, triggering a territorial m******e that would drown the northern mountains in blood.

All because I was too weak to protect a secret.

A blinding, icy surge of adrenaline flooded my veins, cutting straight through the hollow numbness that had governed my soul since the morning. I didn't have time to think. I didn't have time to weigh the cost. Survival, not my own, but the survival of the only people in this wretched world who had ever loved my mother, demanded a blood sacrifice.

Beatrice yanked hard, preparing to rip the tunic down to my waist.

With a sudden, violent burst of speed that surprised even my muted, beastless instincts, I didn't pull away. Instead, I drove my body forward, throwing my entire weight directly toward the low mahogany side table standing beside the velvet chaise.

My hip slammed into the edge of the table with a dull, bone-crunching thud. The sudden movement caught Beatrice completely off guard; her grip slipped from my fraying collar, her manicured nails raking painfully across my neck as I broke free.

"What are you doing, you crazy rat?!"

Beatrice shrieked, stumbling back.

Before she could regain her balance, I reached out with my right hand, leaving my left arm locked violently against my side like a steel vise to trap the token against my ribs and grabbed the heavy, thick crystal vase sitting on the corner of the table.

It was a priceless, hand-cut glass vessel imported from the southern human territories, filled with icy water and long-stemmed white roses.

I didn't just knock it over. I brought my hand down with catastrophic, suicidal force, smashing the heavy crystal straight against the sharp, unyielding edge of the marble fireplace mantle.

CRASH!

The explosion of shattering glass echoed through the high-ceilinged parlor like a cannon shot. Thick, jagged shards of crystal flew in every direction, glittering like deadly falling stars under the chandelier light. Water splashed violently across the polished mahogany floor, soaking the hem of Tanya’s pristine silk dress.

"Ahhhh!" Tanya screamed, dropping her porcelain teacup as it shattered on the floor, leaping backward in absolute terror as wet rose petals and glass shrapnel rained over her slippers.

"Mother! She's gone mad! She's attacking us!"

"Beatrice! Subdue her!" Victoria roared, her voice vibrating with raw, vicious Luna authority that rattled the windowpanes.

But I was already executing the second half of my desperate gamble.

As the large, razor-sharp base of the glass vase shattered in my palm, I didn't drop it. I squeezed. I deliberately clamped my fingers around the longest, most jagged piece of fractured crystal, burying the razor-like edge deep into the fleshy meat of my right palm and dragging it hard across my skin.

Pain, blinding, hot, and agonizingly white, searched straight through my nervous system.

It felt as though a blade of liquid fire had been driven through my hand, severing muscle and skin down to the bone. Blood didn't just trickle; it erupted. A heavy, dark arterial wave of hot crimson sprayed violently across the pale ivory rug, splashing against the hem of Victoria’s black riding habit and painting the shattered pieces of my mother’s ruined silk sash in fresh, glistening gore.

I let out a raw, ragged gasp, the sheer agony making my vision double for a terrifying second. My knees gave out, and I allowed my body to collapse heavily onto the floor, curling sideways into a tight, defensive ball.

I fell directly onto my left side, using my entire upper body weight to pin my left arm down, sandwiching the hidden Cresthaven token safely between my chest, my arm, and the cold mahogany floorboards.

"Look at what you've done!" Victoria shrieked, her voice cracking into a high-pitched, hysterical rage as she backed away from the sudden, gruesome scene, her face twisted in absolute disgust. The warm scent of my spilled royal blood immediately filled the room, thick, metallic, and overwhelming.

"You wretched, filthy beast! You stained my clothes! You brought blood into my parlor!"

"Mother, my shoes!" Tanya wailed, staring down at a few tiny droplets of red that had speckled her silk slippers.

"She did it on purpose! She's insane!"

I lay in the pool of icy rose water and my own spreading blood, my right hand throbbing with a agonizing, rhythmic pulse that made my stomach churn. Blood poured from my sliced palm, pooling around my fingers on the dark wood, making the rug look like a slaughterhouse floor. But beneath the blinding haze of physical agony, a sharp, bitter relief bloomed in my chest.

It had worked.

The sheer shock of the blood, the sudden destruction of expensive property, and the chaotic mess had completely derailed Victoria’s calculated search. They weren't looking at my collar anymore. They weren't thinking about what was inside my tunic. Their aristocratic arrogance made them utterly repulsed by the sight of open red wounds and ruined carpets.

Beatrice stood frozen a few feet away, her hands hovering in the air, looking down at my bleeding frame with a mixture of horror and revulsion. She didn't want to touch me anymore. The thought of getting my unranked, 'cursed' blood on her clean uniform made her hesitate.

"Get her out of here!" Victoria screamed, her Luna aura flaring in a chaotic, uncontrolled wave of pure hatred that slammed against my broken ribs.

"Get this bleeding animal out of my sight before I tear her throat out myself! Call the guards! Drag her to the lower cellars and lock her in the dark until she learns how to bleed without staining my house!"

"Yes, Luna! Immediately!" Beatrice gasped out, eager to obey.

Instead of touching my clothes, Beatrice reached down, grabbed me roughly by the ankle, and pulled.

The movement was brutal and unceremonious. My body was dragged across the slippery mahogany floor, my sliced right hand trailing a long, dark streak of crimson across the wood. The jagged edges of broken glass scraped against my bare legs, but I didn't make a sound. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted my own copper, keeping my left arm locked over my chest, squeezing the secret Cresthaven token so hard against my ribs that I felt the silver edge bite into my skin through the cloth.

Two heavy-footed Silverwood guards burst through the parlor doors, drawn by the shrieks and the heavy scent of blood.

"Take this trash to the sub-level dungeons!" Beatrice ordered them, wiping a stray drop of water from her apron with disgust.

"She destroyed the Luna's parlor and smashed the royal crystal! Throw her on the cold stone and let her bleed out until the Alpha decides what to do with her!"

The guards didn't hesitate. One of them kicked my legs straight, while the other reached down, grabbed me by the back of my tunic collar, far above where the token was hidden and hauled my dead weight off the floor like a sack of butchered meat.

I hung limp in his iron grip, my head lolling back, my blood dripping steadily onto the pristine corridor floor as they carried me out of the grand parlor. Through the haze of blinding pain and the dark spots dancing in my eyes, I caught one final glimpse of Luna Victoria standing over the ruined white silk sash of my mother, her face pale with an unhinged, festering fury that was far from over.

The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind us, cutting off the sound of Tanya’s whines.

As the guards dragged me down the dark, descending stone staircases toward the freezing, airless depths of the sub-level dungeons, the cold stone stairs bumped against my spine. Pain raged in my severed hand, making my whole body shake with violent chills, but in the pitch-black silence of the descending stairwell, my heart beat with a fierce, quiet triumph.

The token was safe. Gerald was safe. The Cresthaven bloodline remained untainted by treason for another day.

They had given me the dark, cold cellars to rot in, the one place in this entire cursed fortress where no high-ranking eyes would follow me, and where I could finally, safely press my bleeding hand against the silver surface when the time was right.