Chapter 9 THE KING’S MEN.
Venessa’s POV.
Silas moved faster than any old man had a right to.
One second he was standing by the desk, and the next, he had his hand around my throat.
His fingers were cold as he lammed me against the wall, the back of my head cracking against the stone.
Stars danced around my vision.
"The King has always been a sentimental fool," Silas hissed, his face inches from mine. "He thinks he can save you by being a martyr. He doesn't realize that your survival was never part of the plan."
I clawed at his wrist, my nails digging into his skin, but he wasn’t even reacting to it. My nails didn’t faze him at all.
Behind him, Rick stood by the door, his crossbow leveled at my chest.
His face was a blank mask. No remorse. No hesitation.
"You're a traitor," I choked out, the air leaving my lungs.
"I am a visionary," Silas countered. He held up the ritual dagger. "The First King was a god among wolves. We have spent centuries hiding in this fortress, pretending to be civilized. Tonight, we return to the blood."
He brought the dagger toward my arm.
"The Key needs to bleed," he whispered.
The moment the tip of the blade touched my skin, something shifted.
The smoky veins on my wrist flared.
A sudden, sharp coldness shot through my arm, making it numb.
The dagger didn't pierce me. It shattered just as it met my skin.
A knife made from Iron had shattered in thousand tiny shards all me. It was unbelievable.
Silas let go of my throat, stumbling back.
He looked at his hand—blood was dripping from dozens of small cuts where the dagger had disintegrated.
"What... what is this?" Silas breathed, his eyes wide.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My heart was thudding.
I looked at my hands. They were glowing with a pale light. The shadow I had taken from Dante wasn't just sitting there. It was mine now.
"The girl is corrupted!" the other Elder shouted from the corner.
"She’s not corrupted," Rick said and stepped forward, raising the crossbow. "She’s the vessel. Kill her now, before it stabilizes."
Rick pulled the trigger.
Time seemed to slow down. I saw the arrow leave the bow. I saw the silver tip glinting in the firelight.
I didn't jump. I didn't scream. I simply raised my hand.
A wall of black smoke erupted from my palm. The arrow hit the smoke and fell to the floor with a clack.
I looked at Silas just as the study doors broke open.
Dante.
The Great black Lycan of the Citadel.
He hit Rick first, tossed the weapon aside and pinned Rick to the floor with a paw the size of my head.
"Dante!" I screamed.
The wolf turned his head and he looked at me,
He saw the grey on my arms. He saw the shattered dagger.
Then he looked at Silas.
Silas was scrambling for a backup blade in his desk, his composure completely gone. "Kill it! Someone kill the beast!"
Dante didn't wait. He shifted mid-leap, until he was a man again—but he was naked, covered in the black veins of the curse, his claws out and his teeth bared.
He tackled Silas over the desk. They went down in a heap of broken wood and flying papers.
"Dante, stop!" I ran forward.
I knew what Silas was trying to do. He wanted Dante to lose control. He wanted the shadow to take over. If Dante killed an Elder in cold blood while consumed by the curse, the kingdom would have no choice but to execute him.
"Dante, look at me!"
He had his hands around Silas’s neck.
The Elder’s face was turning purple, his hands clawing uselessly at Dante’s tight grip and Dante’s skin was turning grey, the shadow crawling up his face.
"He... deserves... death," He rasped.
"Not like this," I said, dropping to my knees beside them. I reached out and grabbed Dante’s wrists.
I didn't try to take his pain this time. I pushed my happy moments into him instead.
I showed him the garden. I showed him the way he had looked at me in the cellar.
"Don't let them win," I whispered. "Don't become the monster they want."
Dante’s eyes flickered. The white receded. The grey on his face settled back into his chest.
He let go of Silas.
The Elder slumped to the floor, gasping for air, clutching his throat.
Dante sat back on his heels, his breathing ragged.
He looked down at his hands, then at me.
"You're here," he whispered.
"I jumped out of a window," I said, a small, shaky laugh escaping my lips. "You really need to fix the locks in this place."
The guards arrived seconds later, but they weren't Silas’s men.
They were the King’s Guard, led by a young captain who looked horrified at the scene.
"Secure the Elders," Dante commanded, He didn't look like a man who had just almost lost his soul. He looked like a King again. "And get a healer for the Queen."
"I don't need a healer," I said, standing up.
My head was still spinning, and the grey veins were throbbing, but I wasn't broken.
Dante stood up slowly. One of the guards handed him a cloak, which he wrapped around his waist.
He looked at Rick, who was being dragged away in chains.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Dante said to his former friend.
Rick didn't look up. "The First King is coming, Dante. Whether you kill me or not doesn't change anything ."
Dante turned to me.
The room was full of people, but it felt like we were the only two left.
He reached out as if to touch my face, but he stopped himself. His hand hovered an inch from my cheek before he pulled it back.
The coldness was back.
"Why?" he asked. "Why didn't you stay in your room?"
"Because your plan sucked," I said. "And because I found out that I’m the 'Key.' Whatever that means."
Dante’s jaw tightened. He looked at the shattered knife on the floor. "It means we are in more danger than I thought. Silas wasn't just trying to kill me. He was trying to use you to open the Void."
"I know. He told me."
Dante looked at my wrists, his eyes darkening. "The shadow is in you now. Truly in you. I felt it when you touched me. You didn't just hold it back; you claimed it."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"It’s a death sentence," he said. He looked away,"For both of us."
An hour later, I was back in the King’s chambers. I wasn't locked in this time, but the guards at the door made it clear I wasn't supposed to wander.
Dante was sitting by the fire, a new glass of bourbon in his hand.
He was dressed again.
"We need to talk," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"There is nothing to talk about," he said. "The Council will meet at dawn. Silas will be tried for treason. The curse... we will find a way to manage it."
"Manage it? Dante, look at me." I stood up and walked into his line of sight. "The shadow isn't 'bothering' you anymore, is it? It’s quiet."
He didn't answer.
"It’s quiet because I have half of it," I continued. "I can feel you. My wolf can feel the way your heart speeds up when I’m in the room. I can feel the fear you’re trying to hide."
Dante set his glass down with a heavy thud and stood up, towering over me. "You want the truth? Fine. The truth is that I am terrified. I have spent ten years fighting this darkness alone, and now it is eating the only thing I have ever..."
He stopped himself.
"The only thing you’ve ever what?" I challenged.
"The only thing I have ever wanted to protect," he said.
He stepped closer, his scent enveloping me. "The prophecy says the Queen must die. But it doesn't say she has to die by a blade. She dies by the shadow. It drains her until there is nothing left but a hollow shell. I am watching you disappear, Venessa, and I can't stop it."
"You don't know that," I said, reaching for his collar. "I felt the power tonight. I broke that dagger. I stopped that bolt. Maybe you shouldn’t worry about me so much”
Dante grabbed my wrists, looking at the grey veins. "A weapon that kills its wielder."
He pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine.
For a moment, the King was gone. There was only the man who was tied to me by blood and fate.
"I can't be with you," he whispered. "The more we touch, the more the bond grows. The more the bond grows, the faster the shadow moves. If I love you, Venessa, I kill you."
"Then let me be the one to choose," I said.
I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his.
Dante groaned, his hands sliding into my hair, pulling me against him with a desperation that broke my heart.
The bond flared. It was a golden fire that burned away the cold of the room.
I felt the shadow in my veins pulse, hungry for more, but I didn't care. I wanted him.
But as the kiss deepened, Dante suddenly went rigid.
He pulled away, his eyes wide with horror. He looked down at his chest.
Under the white fabric of his shirt, a new mark was appearing. It wasn't the black veins. It was a symbol—a circle with a line through it. The symbol of the Key.
And on my chest, a matching mark began to burn.
"No," Dante breathed.
He backed away from me, his face pale. "It’s starting. The bridge... it’s open."
The room began to shake.
Outside, the wolves of the Citadel began to howl—a sound of mourning, not war.
I looked at my hand. The grey was no longer just in my veins. It was starting to mist off my skin like smoke.
"Dante?" I whispered.
"The Red Moon was just the beginning," he said, his voice trembling. "The Void is here. And it’s not looking for a King."
He looked at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying realization.
"It’s looking for the Queen."
The candles in the room went out all at once. In the darkness, the only thing I could see was the glowing mark on Dante’s chest.
And then, the floor beneath us vanished.