To Cage a Silver Wolf

Chapter5

I couldn't breathe. Trapped entirely by Gunnar's suffocating power, his warning echoed in my skull long after his shadow vanished into the darkness. The next morning arrived like an executioner's axe.

The royal dining hall was cavernous, filled with the blinding glare of golden chandeliers and a massive mahogany table that stretched longer than the slave tents of my youth. Dozens of high-born lords and ladies sat in high-backed chairs, their toxic whispers rising the moment I crossed the threshold.

I was forced into a seat at the lower end of the table, draped in heavy, stifling velvet that felt like an iron shroud. Rows of silver utensils and crystal chalices mocked my scarred, clumsy fingers.

"Hold the fork from the outside edge, My Lady," Elian whispered frantically from behind my chair, his voice a low, hot murmur against my ear. His fingers brushed over my bare shoulder as he adjusted my posture, his touch lingering too long, sending an uneasy, electric warmth through my skin.

"I'm trying," I muttered, my palms slick with sweat. In the camps, a piece of metal was a weapon, not a tool.

Across the expanse of mahogany, Princess Seraphina sat beside Queen Lilith, wearing a smirk of pure triumph. She leaned over, murmuring something into the Queen Mother’s ear that sent a wave of sharp, nasty laughter rippling through the noblewomen.

"Let us see the Tylo stray feed herself," Seraphina called out, her voice cutting through the chatter like shattered glass. "Go on, Lena. Show the High Court how a feral dog handles royal silver."

Every eye locked onto me. I looked up the table, desperately searching for a shield, and finally met Gunnar's gaze.

He wasn't wearing his armor today. He sat in a dark, form-fitting tunic that clung to his broad chest and massive shoulders. His collar was slightly open, and despite the distance, the sheer magnetism radiating from him held me completely tight. He remained entirely unreadable, his dark face carved from granite. He isn't going to save you, I realized, a cold spike of adrenaline hitting my chest. This is a s*******r, and he's watching to see if I bleed.

My hands shook. I picked up the silver knife to cut the meat, but my grip slipped. The heavy metal clattered violently against the golden plate, the sharp ring echoing through the sudden, dead silence of the hall. The knife skidded, splashing dark red gravy directly across the front of my pristine dress.

The dining hall exploded into mocking laughter.

"Look at it," a lord sneered. "She belongs in a kennel."

A suffocating, hot wave of shame rushed up my throat, cutting off my air. The walls seemed to close in, the chandeliers spinning above me. It wasn't just the gravy, it was the cages, the needles, the smell of burning smoke from my village, all of it crashing over me at once.

I didn’t know when I pushed my chair back violently, the wood screeching against the marble. Turning my back on the Queen, on Seraphina, and on Gunnar's piercing glare, I bolted from the hall.

I sprinted down the empty Eastern corridor, the echoes of their laughter chasing me like hounds. Finally, my legs gave out. I collapsed into a dark alcove, sliding down the cold stone wall and burying my face in my hands. The tears came hot and violent, racking my body with silent, chest-heaving sobs.

"My Lady! My Lady Lena!"

Footsteps hurried down the hallway, and a second later, Elian fell to his knees in front of me, his face pale with a frantic, desperate panic.

"Lena, please, look at me," Elian begged, dropping the formal title as he grabbed my upper arms. His grip was firm, anchoring, and entirely too intense. "Don't let them see you break. That is exactly what they want."

"I don't belong here, Elian!" I choked out, my jaw aching from the force of my tears. "I am a slave. I just want to survive... I can't play their sick games!"

The bleeding agony of my voice seemed to strike Elian directly in the chest. His eyes darkened with a sudden, fierce possessiveness. As he squeezed my arms, a faint, violet mage light hummed beneath his fingers. The magic sparked against my skin, sending a sudden, intoxicating rush of warmth straight to my frantic heart.

Desperate to stop the room from spinning, desperate for a lifeline in this sea of monsters, I leaned toward his warmth. Our faces were suddenly inches apart. The air turned thick, heavy, and charged with a frantic, breathless energy.

But before I could pull myself together, Elian’s control snapped. His hand shot up to catch the back of my neck, his fingers tangling violently in my damp hair. Driven by his own building, dark obsession, his lips crashed onto mine.

The kiss was sudden, a frantic collision of adrenaline and forced heat. It tasted of salt and electric fire. For a fleeting heartbeat, the trauma of the dining hall was swallowed by the sheer shock of his mouth pressing against mine.

But the warmth was entirely wrong. It didn't have the scorching, addictive lightning that Gunnar's touch gave me. Reality rushed back into my brain like ice water.

I slammed my palms against Elian's chest, violently shoving him away as we both gasped for air. We jumped back, chests heaving, staring at each other with wide, shocked eyes.

Before I could even find my voice to scream at him, a slow, deliberate sound echoed from the adjacent stone courtyard.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

My blood froze instantly. A terrifying, icy shiver crawled up the back of my spine.

Slowly, I turned my head toward the arched colonnade.

Prince Arlo stood there, framed by the white marble pillars. He was leaning casually against the balustrade, a golden master key dangling loosely from his fingers. He had been standing in the shadows the entire time. He had seen everything.

A slow, deeply sadistic smile spread across his handsome face as he locked his venomous gaze right onto my terrified eyes.

"What a touching display of loyalty," Arlo purred across the empty courtyard, his voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "I told you I'd be back for you, Lena. And now... you're going to do exactly what I say."