Chapter 11 Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Chapter 11
Vivian
A low, vibrating howl ripped through the mist, closer than it had any right to be. This wasn’t a hound at all. This was something deeper. Something primal.

“Go!” the woman hissed again, then vanished in a poof into the undergrowth with an unnatural speed.

I kicked Persephone into a gallop as she neighed, racing back towards the sound of the hunt, my mind a whirlwind of terror and confusion.

The mirror isn’t the only way home. There was a death.

What death?

I burst through a cacophany of trees and nearly collided with Adrian.

I pulled the saddle back with all my might as she skidded to a halt, just as Adrian pinned his furious gaze on me, his face a mask of cold, vibrating fury.

“You left the path,” he said, his voice a low snarl. He reached out and grabbed Persephone’s bridle, yanking the horse so hard with such force that I almost slipped from the saddle.

“I got lost in the mist,” my voice shook and I hoped he bought the lie. “I thought I saw—”

“You went to the boundary,” he cut me off.

In one fluid motion, he dismantled and pulled me down from my horse, his hands gripping my waist with bruising force.

Pressing my back against the flank of his stallion, his face was inches away from me.

It was infuriating and romantic at the same time.

“Do not think you can fool me, Vivian. I told you of the fear beyond the woods. I told you to ride close.” He leaned in, his nose brushing against the skin of my neck, right where the old woman had looked.

“You do have that scent of damp earth and woodsmoke,” he hissed. “Who did you speak to?”

“No one!” I shrieked. “I was alone!”

Adrian’s eyes flashed silver—a brief, terrifying glint of the beast beneath the silk.

“The next time you flee from me, I will not send the hounds. I shall come myself, and you will find that I am far less patient when the moon is rising.”

He let me go forcefully, careful not to shove me as his composure returned like a cold shutter being closed.

“The hunt is over, “ he said with a bit of calm. “We return to the Hall. You will prepare for the garden party, and you shall not leave your room until I come for you.”

I didn’t reply. I just saddled up with a bit of difficulty and followed him.

As we rode back, the silence around us was suffocating. I still had the parchment hidden in my bodice, and I could still feel the weight of the paper.

I had less than thirty days to find the fortune teller and get what I wanted.

But then, a lot of things became certain for me. The old woman had confirmed that the seer was at the Black Swan, I also realized that Adrian wasn’t just protecting her. He was hunting her.

Later that night, the kind of storm that descended upon the Northbrook hall was not a mere disturbance of the weather.

It felt like a physical assault on the stone itself. The intermittent claps of thunder ratttled the leaded panes of the library’s windows, echoing like the heavy footfalls of giants in the corridors above.

It was the night Adrian described as the pre-shift. The night before the moon reached it zenith.

I heard the heavy oak door creak up and I rose to my feet.

Adrian stumbled into the room, his cravat torn away, linen shirt too damp with a cold sweat that made the fabric cling to the powerful lines of his shoulder and chest.

His face, usually a mask of ducal indifference, was cotorted into a grimace that could only explain one thing.

Raw, unadulterated agony.

“Adrian—” I called, but he stopped.

“Stay… back!” He hissed, the words tumbling out as if his very throat were changing shape.

His hands grabbed the edges of a marble bust, gripping tightly as his knuckles went white, the stone groaning under the pressure of his hand.

I watched, eyes wide, unable to get myself to run or move.

“Do not approach me, Miss Vivian,” he added. “I’m not fit for the company of a lady this night.”

“You’re in pain,” I cried, every modern instinct to help in me clashing with the wisdom of the era to mind my distance.

“There must be something… a physician, surely, or a tincture?” I added.

A short, jagged laugh I thought was unnecessary at the moment left Adrian. I watched him, surprised atthe humor.

“A physician? To witness the marrow of a Duke turning to quicksilver? Nay. There is no medicine for a soul that has been promised to a the moon. I must endure, Vivian. As my fathers did, so must I. Just like the fathers before them.”

Before he could finish speaking, he slumped into a heavy wingback chair, head falling back in the flickering firelight.

Right before my eyes, I beheld the most scary transition I’ve ever seen in my life.

Beneath the skin of his jaw, something moved. A ripple of muscle and bone that defiled human anatomy.

My eyes widened.

His breathing grew heavy, rhythmic and increasing bestial.

“It is a price,” he hushed, eyes closed. “The Northbrook line was granted this land, this power… but the earth demands a tithe. We are the guardians of the woods, we are the teeth of the duchy.”

Despite my fear, I took a step closer.

Seeing Adrian like this, stripped of his titles, his fine coat, and his arrogance made him feel less than a monster. He looked more like a prisoner. My heart broke for him.

No one deserved to go through all of this.

When Adrian opened his eyes, I jumped.

His eyes were a vivid, burning silver now, the pupils slit-like. He reached out for the desk with a trembling hand.

For a moment, the predator duke was gone. Just a man drawing in his own blood line.