Tess
The cold hits me first. It’s a physical thing, a predator that sinks its teeth into my skin through the ridiculously thin silk of this dress. The fortress is less a castle and more a mountain carved into the shape of a nightmare. Towers of black stone claw at a perpetually grey sky. This place is a tomb.
I step out of the carriage, and the hem of my gown immediately catches on the unforgiving stone steps. I stumble, just as Marcellus drilled into me. A pathetic little gasp escapes my lips. It feels like swallowing poison.
“Mind your feet, Princess,” a gruff voice says. One of Eryk’s guards offers a hand. His grip is rough, his eyes dismissive. He already sees what I am meant to be. A liability.
I keep my eyes downcast, my shoulders hunched. “Th-thank you,” I whisper, my voice a pale imitation of my own. I hate it. I hate every second of this performance.
The great hall is vast and hollow. The only warmth comes from a massive fireplace that seems to be losing its battle against the chill seeping from the stone. Banners bearing the sigil of a snarling white wolf hang from the rafters, watching me like silent judges.
Two men stand before the hearth. One is older, with a severe face and eyes that miss nothing. The other… the other is the Alpha.
Alpha Eryk of the Frostclaw Pack is not a man. He is a storm held in human form. He’s taller than I expected, with shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of this frozen kingdom. His dark hair is tied back, and his face is all sharp angles and unforgiving lines. He radiates a power so potent, so absolute, it’s a wonder the stones don’t crack around him.
I remember Marcellus’s endless coaching. ‘Curtsy low. Don’t meet his eyes. Act like you are terrified of your own shadow.’
I execute a clumsy, wavering curtsy, dipping so low I nearly lose my balance for real. My gaze is fixed on the polished floor.
“Alpha Eryk,” I murmur, forcing a tremor into my voice.
Silence stretches. It’s heavy and cold. I can feel his gaze on me, not with interest, but with the flat boredom of a man examining a tool he has no use for.
“Princess Eveline,” he finally says. His voice is a low rumble, like rocks grinding together deep underground. “You have arrived.”
It’s not a welcome. It’s a statement of fact. A tedious piece of business now present in his hall.
I risk a glance up through my lashes. His eyes are the color of a frozen lake, and they hold just as much warmth. He isn’t even really looking at me. His focus is somewhere over my shoulder, as if I am too insignificant to command his full attention.
“The journey… it was very long,” I say, letting my sentence trail off weakly.
He gives a nearly imperceptible nod. “This is Kael, my adviser.”
The older man dips his head, a gesture so curt it’s an insult. “Princess.”
His eyes are just as dismissive as the Alpha’s, but sharper. More analytical. While Eryk dismisses me as a fragile piece in a political game, Kael looks at me like a problem he will eventually have to solve.
Internally, I’m cataloging everything. The Alpha stands with his weight evenly distributed, a fighter’s stance. Ready to move. Kael is more rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, but his posture screams discipline. There are four guards in the hall, two at the main entrance, two flanking a corridor to our right. Their armor is practical, leather and steel, meant for fighting, not for show. All of them are armed.
“I trust your accommodations will be… suitable,” Eryk says, his tone making it clear he doesn’t care one way or the other.
“I am sure they will be lovely,” I stutter, fumbling with a fold of my dress.
He turns his attention fully to Kael, as if I have already ceased to exist. “See that the princess is shown to her chambers. I have matters to attend to.”
He moves to leave without another word. As he passes, I take a small, hesitant step forward, as a frightened girl might. My foot catches on the edge of a bearskin rug. I pitch forward with a small, startled cry.
It’s a perfect fall. I practiced it a dozen times. Controlled, graceless, and designed to look utterly accidental. I throw my hands out, ready to catch myself on the stone floor.
An arm like a steel band shoots out and clamps around my bicep, stopping my fall with a jolt. I’m yanked upright. Alpha Eryk holds me, his grip painfully tight.
His icy eyes are finally on me. Truly on me. And they are filled with pure, undiluted scorn.
“Watch your step,” he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. He releases me so abruptly I stumble back again. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just turns and strides from the hall, his black cloak sweeping behind him like a gathering storm.
I stand there, my heart hammering against my ribs, the skin on my arm burning where he touched me. The performance was flawless. He believes I am a weak, clumsy fool. So why does it feel like I just lost the first round in the pit?
Kael’s cold voice cuts through my thoughts. “This way, Princess.”
He doesn’t offer an arm. He just turns and leads the way down the corridor. I follow on trembling legs, keeping my head bowed. The part of me that is the Shadow is screaming. It’s memorizing the turns, counting the doors, noting the lack of windows. It’s assessing the man in front of me as a threat.
But the girl playing the princess just clutches her hands together and tries to look as if she might shatter from a harsh word.
Kael stops at a heavy wooden door and pushes it open. “Your chambers.”
He steps aside. I walk past him into a room that is larger than our entire den. A fire roars in the hearth, a four poster bed is draped in furs, and a table is laden with food. It’s a gilded cage.
I turn to thank him, but he is already gone. The door clicks shut, the sound echoing in the opulent silence.
I’m alone.
For a single, blessed moment, I let the mask drop. I straighten my spine, roll my shoulders, and take a deep, steadying breath. The air still feels like ice in my lungs.
My eyes scan the room again, but this time with a fighter’s assessment. The window has a heavy latch but leads to a sheer drop. The fireplace is too narrow to climb. The only way out is the door I came through.
Marcellus wanted me to be a helpless victim. Eryk already sees me as one. Good. Let them.
Victims are underestimated. And underestimated is the most dangerous thing you can be.
