out a word felt more like a judgment. Then came another scoff. It was a familiar sound, one

Maybe it is right to call her a mercenary, with loyalty measured in coins. She is someone who would sell me out for

crossed her face – pity? Disgust? It was hard to tell. Didn't ma

w and saw my father getting into a carriage with a deep frown etched on

I thought as I watche

his plans somehow. The thought of causing him even a flicker of inconvenie

dn't change anything. He wouldn't see it as a rebellion, just more proof that I'm a screw-up

prisoner, trapped not by bars and chains, but of my own

y hand, I walked towards the stables hopin

es from the workers followed m

d a smile cracked through my lips, she was my sleek black mare. Her dark eyes seemed to hold a silent understandi

imbed onto her back. "Let'

g. The wind blew through my hair, clearing my head a bit. With every gallop, my anger and frustr

scles were sore. I was so lost in the ride that I almost missed Anya's s

let me escape this hell for a little while. Back at the stables, I got off Midnight. My body ached in a good way, and my mind

a deep scowl on his face. Surprise flooded my gut. I didn't expect him to be back so soon. The air crackled with tensi

low, trying to ignore the accusatory glare from my father. "Good evening,

unusual. Her eyes clouded with worry. Was she...nervous about something

pped and cold. A knot of dread formed in my stomach

efore continuing. "Your brother, Edgar, he's..." his vo

upid and loud, pain-in-the-neck of a step brother? There was no way. One minut

to croak out, my voice

the words like a bitter pill. "And unsurprisingly, he lost." For a second, I though

ne knows him. His stories are whispered in a hushed tone by the fire, o

voice low and husky, "has put

the conversation, finally spoke, her v

be done. My jerk of a stepbrother isn't the first to anger the Lycan king and would probably not be the last. There w

silence, his words heavy w

pease him how? I already knew the answer. The

n King would be