The guard's shadow slants across the wall. His head jerks, his chin thumping against his chest—he is asleep. I press myself into the cold stone, scraping my elbows against the uneven masonry. A turn. The narrow passage behind the kitchens smells of rancid grease and dampness. It is always dark here; only a single torch spits sparks at the end of the corridor.
Liam is counting logs. The dull thud of wood hitting wood echoes in my temples. He doesn't turn around, but his shoulders tense.
"Late for errands, Alina."
"Brant's execution... did you see it?"
Liam freezes. A single log is clamped in his broad palm.
"I saw. Everyone saw. Return to your chambers."
"The castle smells of smoke and fear. Why is everyone silent? Selena hides her eyes; Garret nearly broke a pitcher when I walked in yesterday. Liam, what is happening?"
He throws the log onto the pile. The crash makes me flinch.
"The less you know, the longer you live. An old truth. You should know it best, with that brand of yours."
I take a step forward, ignoring the trembling in my knees.
"You always help. Since the very first day. Garret looks at me like a piece of meat, Selena like a nuisance. But you... why do you look at me differently?"
Liam slowly wipes his palms against the rough fabric of his trousers. He steps close. He smells of pine and old ash. Between us, there is only a single breath.
"You ask too many questions for an omega who is only supposed to nod."
"I am not just an omega."
"Then who? Cale's slave? Heir to the void?"
"Stop. You know something. About Madame Isabelle, about what she said regarding the 'ancient blood'."
Liam's hand shoots out suddenly. I don't have time to flinch away. His fingers hook under my chin, forcing my head still.
"Look at me."
"Liam, it hurts..."
"Look, Alina. Into the depths. What do you see?"
The torch behind him flares, belching a stream of acrid smoke. The light falls directly on his face. In Liam's pupils, usually grey and dull, I see a strange movement. Silver threads, thin as cobwebs, weave into a pattern.
"Your eyes..." I gasp. "Like in the mirror."
"The silver of the old pack. We called it the 'king's spark'."
"What are you talking about?"
"About the legends Edric tried to burn away along with our homes. When the old king fell, the children were scattered across the North. Some were drowned, others sold to brothels to erase the very memory of the blood."
"Are you saying..."
"You are the sister of the lost pack, Alina. My blood. A lost spark I would recognize among a thousand."
Something clicks inside me. My wolf, usually whimpering at Cale's presence, suddenly falls silent. There is no pain. Only a strange, heavy warmth spreads through my veins, displacing the cold of the corridor.
"Madame Isabelle... did she know?"
"She suspected. Everyone who has a drop of memory left sees it in you. Your gait, the way you hold your back even under the lash. It cannot be purged."
I grab his sleeve. The rough fabric scratches my fingers.
"If this is true... if we are... then why are we here? Why didn't you take me away?"
"Where? Under Edric's axe?" Liam smiles crookedly. "Right now, you are merely his nephew's toy. Cale's mark is your only shield. If the King finds out who you really are, that shield will turn into a noose."
"Cale will feel it... he always feels my emotions through the bond."
Liam presses harder, forcing me to bite my lip.
"Then learn to lie. Learn to bury your essence so deep that even his wolf cannot catch the scent of the truth."
"Is there anyone else? Who else knows?"
"Tom knew. He pieced some things together."
"Tom?" My voice breaks. "Is that why he was...?"
"Do not ask questions you do not want the answers to."
The heavy stomp of iron-shod boots echoes from above. Liam's expression shifts instantly. His gaze turns vacant, his back stooping into the practiced bow of a servant.
"Take this."
He shoves a piece of clean white canvas into my hands.
"Say the Madame ordered it brought to the kitchen for filters. Go!"
"Liam, wait..."
"Leave, Alina! Run!"
I turn and nearly fly through the dark crawlspace. Моy heart thrashes against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Sister of the pack." The words churn in my head, heavy as gravestones. My world, already precarious, crumbles into dust.
I burst into my chambers, slamming the bolt home. My lungs burn. In the corner of the room, a floor-length mirror in a tarnished frame mockingly reflects a pale figure.
I step closer. My fingers tremble as I touch the fresh marks of Cale's grip on my neck. The bruises look like dirty stains against my white skin.
"Look into the eyes," I whisper to my reflection.
There, behind the iris, silver sparks truly dance. Not a slave. Not a trophy.
A sudden flash of heat in my neck makes me cry out. The mark pulses. Cale. He is close. Or perhaps he simply felt my surge—this primal, icy terror mixed with frantic hope.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to envision a wall. A high, impenetrable wall of grey stone, like the ones in the dungeons.
"Learn to lie," Liam's voice rings in my ears like a knell.
If I am the heir, then I am death for this castle. And this castle is death for me. Every brick, every guard, every breath Cale takes is now my enemy.
I crumple the canvas in my hands. The white fabric seems too clean for this place.
"Did you feel it?" I ask the void of the room, knowing that through the bond he might catch the shadow of the question.
The silence in response weighs heavier than a scream. I sit on the edge of the bed, hugging my shoulders. Now I know why Liam doesn't call the guards. Now I know why I am still alive.
And because of this knowledge, I want to howl the way wolves howl when they have lost their forest.
The door in the corridor creaks. Footsteps. Heavy, confident. Cale.
I straighten my back. I clench my teeth so hard my jaw cramps. I must hide the silver. I must hide my brother. I must become what they want to see—a broken doll.
Because only dolls have a chance to wait for the moment when they can cut the strings.
"Come in," I whisper, watching the doorknob begin to turn slowly. "Try to find me in this darkness."