|chapter 14|

|chapter 14|
|Talitha|

I wake as though dragged from the depths of some black sea, my chest tight, my limbs heavy with dread. I lie still, listening. The hush of the chapel is broken by muffled sounds beyond its walls—the shuffle of boots, the low murmur of voices, the cadence of men moving as one—there is no mistaking it.

He has returned.

The Alpha King.

My heart sinks, each beat dragging me further into despair. I need not look beyond these walls to know more than half the town has gathered in the square, drawn by fear, by duty. They await his word.

I press a hand to my chest, a frail attempt to steady the hammering of my heart. What response could I give that will not unravel all I have fought to hold together? My choice already pressed upon me, cruel as a blade at the throat: yield to him and be taken from all I know, or resist and watch ruin fall upon the people I love.

My body is heavy as stone, but I manage to push myself upright and ready myself to leave my chambers. The memory of his eyes burns behind my lids. His words echo in my thoughts. ‘Tomorrow at sunrise, I will return for your answer.’

I step into the morning light, Mother Elvyra at my side. The square lies hushed, every gaze fixed upon us. The townsfolk hold their breath, their anticipation heavy. At the forefront stand the Alpha King and his men, their dark ranks forming a wall of steel. His presence presses upon me, vast and suffocating, and his golden eyes fix upon mine without wavering.

When he speaks, his voice rolls across the square like thunder. “Your decision.”

Silence follows, drawn taut as a bowstring. The weight of every eye bears down until at last I whisper, “I will go.”

A ripple stirs among the crowd. Tears sting my eyes, but I force them back. I tell myself this is for them, for the safety of those who gave me welcome when I had naught. Unlike the town I fled, these people opened their arms to me and my daughter. Here, for the first time, we were shown peace. We were shown love, and we learned what it was to belong.

Demetrius inclines his head, his reply curt. “Then we leave at once.”

My eyes widen. “At once? But I—I have not packed, I have not prepared—I have not even bade them farewell—”

“You need nothing,” he cuts in, his tone unyielding. “All that you require waits at the castle. As do matters of great import that await my hand.” His gaze hardens. “You may begin your farewells now.”

I stare at him, words rising sharp upon my tongue, but I bite them back. He has given me no time, no space, and still he claims it is more than enough. Already his mind has turned to his palace, to the matters that weigh heavier in his judgment than my life or that of my daughter’s.

My hands curl into fists at my sides, my lip caught between my teeth lest the bitter words spill forth—that he might go and leave me here in peace, if his palace calls so loudly. But I do not speak it. Instead, I turn from him and face the people who became my home, though for so brief a span.

Eunice is the first person I find. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she reaches for me, and at once my own tears threaten to fall. My voice quivers as I beg her pardon for endangering her husband.

She silences me with her embrace. “I understand,” she whispers into my hair. “Had I stood in your place, I would have done the same.”

Her mercy pierces me deeper than any rebuke. When she draws back, she half-smiles through her sorrow, seeking to lighten the weight between us. “Do not forget us when you sit in that grand castle. We will expect an invitation to your feasts.”

If I live to see such a future, I think bitterly, perhaps then I shall surely invite you.

I turn next to Tyler. He does not speak, but his nod is steady, his gaze gentler than I deserve. Forgiveness lies in his eyes, though his silence tells me the wound is not so easily mended. Mother Elvyra is the last one I approach and I ignore the town head as he stands behind her, watching me. Mother takes my hands between hers, her touch warm and her gaze unwavering. “Child,” she says, “your path is dark now, but dark roads are not endless. If you let them, they may yet lead you into light.”

I fall against her, held fast in an embrace that smells of herbs and home. My composure nearly breaks, but I draw upon the last shreds of my strength and hold. At length, the moment comes.

I cross the square with Erna’s small hand clutched in mine, her other hand gripping at my skirts. Demetrius waits, his men behind him like shadows. His gaze lowers, and I see confusion darken his golden eyes.

“What is this?” His voice is sharp with plain displeasure. “Why do you bring the child?”

My breath seizes at his question. Does he mean for me to leave her? I stiffen my spine, my voice firm though my heart trembles. “She is my daughter. Where I go, she goes.”

His eyes narrow, his voice dropping low. “Another deceit, then? Another ploy to make a fool of me?”

The accusation strikes like a blow. Yet I do not yield. “She is mine. If I go with you, she must come also. Or neither of us shall go.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. His gaze darkens, gold swallowed in a storm. Around us, the townsfolk stand frozen and quiet, as though the world itself waits upon his judgment.

At last he speaks, the snarl curling his lip. “So. You truly did give yourself to another before me.”

The words flay me raw. Confusion burns through me, but I have no chance to answer. His command rips across the square mercilessly: “Get them into the carriage. We depart at once.”

Demetrius turns from me, his fury barely contained. He shoulders past another wolf—near as formidable as the Alpha King himself. I hear Demetrius growl harshly, “I will run. I shall catch up mid-journey.”
Then he is gone, striding with the restless hunger of a storm unleashed. The wolf within him presses too near the surface; I feel it in the tremor of the air he leaves behind.

The other he-wolf—Rostam, I learn by the murmurs of the men—watches him depart. His eyes narrow as his jaw sets. With a flick of his hand he summons two shadows from the crowd. Silent, they slip after their King. Not to guard him, I think, but to guard the world from him.

When Rostam turns to me, his face is unreadable stone. He gives a short nod, then gestures toward the waiting carriage. “Come.”
I obey, Erna pressed close against my skirts. The carriage stands alone, its dark frame stark against the pale morning. Around us, men ready themselves. Some already shift, their forms half-caught between man and beast, bones bending to the shape of wolves.

I pause then take one last look at the place I've called home for the last four years; the same place and people that had taken me in when all else seemed to reject me.

The square blurs before me as tears sting my eyes. The faces all melt together until I cannot see them clearly. May I look upon you again one day, I pray in silence, in health, in safety, and in joy.

Rostam waits without word. At last I climb inside, drawing Erna after me. She curls against my side at once, her small hands clutching. Her whispers are soft and anxious as questions tumble from her lips, questions I cannot answer. My silence only makes her cling tighter.

The wheels creak as the horses lurch forward and the town begins to fall away. I keep my gaze upon the horizon until it blurs like the rest, until the chapel roof and the market stalls are no more than shadows swallowed by distance. My heart clenches, torn as though some vital part of me is left behind.

Once more, my old life slips from me. But this time, I do not walk from it of my own will. I am carried, bound, into a world I never wished to enter.