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The Bonded are the king’s most elite forces, soldiers who have mental bonds with massive, fearsome direwolves. They ride the wolves into battle and, rumor has it, the riders can even tap into the magic that the direwolves wield.
My pulse speeds up as I clock the tattoos completely covering his neck, his hands. Not much makes me afraid, but this? Run, a self-preserving, animalistic part of me cries. Danger.
Far off, somewhere in the mountains, a direwolf howls. The sound echoes in my ears like a warning.
But even as I try to sound confident, I can’t hide the way my hands are shaking. Three people are dead, just like that—and it could’ve just as easily been me.
Anassa, running in the moonlight, racing down the mountainside, faster than wind. A sun rising, rays blinding and beautiful. A crown, its metal glinting, then drenched in blood.
“Believe it or not, you are valuable to us and to the king. Our goal is for as many of you to survive this process as is possible. So behave yourselves outside of class. Violations will be harshly penalized.” There’s a swell of murmurs in response to Aldrich’s admonishment. Not killing each other every chance we get? The horror!
Crown Prince Killian descends to the balcony while I stand there frozen, my whole world crumbling around me. And then, seated at his father’s side, he lifts his head and looks right at me, dark blue eyes filled with regret. My heart cracks. Lee.
“Don’t you realize?” he says ferociously. “My love for you is as unwavering and steady as the winds from Mount Wolfsbane. I’d give it all up if you told me to. I’d abdicate tomorrow.”
What exactly does that say about me? A truly feral, vicious beast took one look at me and thought, “That one. I’ll take that one.”
“You were born to lead, girl. Whether or not you believe that is of no consequence anymore. You must, so you will.”
“You are a powerful Rawbond, but strength is not the only thing we value in Daemos. You’d do well to remember that if you want to make it through the rest of Proving. And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: you touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”
I glance down, realizing the hem of my shirt doesn’t quite cover the marks on my upper thighs. Lamplight gleams on the silvery scars, making them look all the more vicious. Suddenly Stark is on me, his face thunderous, backing me into the tiny corner. “Who did this to you?” he demands ferociously, one calloused hand clamping hotly on my thigh.
“I’m the rightful queen of Nocturna, aren’t I?” I ask. Stark’s eyes spark, he takes a single step back, and he bows down on one knee, hand to his chest. “Welcome home, my queen.”
“Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you at the Forging Ball in the dress I picked for you—” What?! “—swirling in your lover’s arms and bowing to his traitor father?”
“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”
