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He looked like a corpse, except for the fact that his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. I choked back a cry. A small chair sat next to his bed, and I couldn’t tell if it was put there for the healer or for me, but I walked over and sat in it.

I stared at Elias for a moment more, making sure that his breaths were real and I wasn’t imagining them. Then I placed a hand on his, relieved to feel the familiar energy from his skin. So many emotions boiled in my chest as I sat with him. Anger, worry, betrayal, love – all of them swirled inside of me, like my mind couldn’t decide which to keep and which to let go.

The gods destined us to be together. But I’ll be damned if I let anyone decide my fate but me. When Elias awoke, I would make him tell meeverything. Then I would decide for myself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Elias

One Month Earlier

Isat in my usual cell, silver chains clasped around my wrists, binding me to the wall. They muted my strength, my senses, and my ability to shift. But it was the wolfsbane constantly flowing through my body that kept me sickly and weak. Without the wolfsbane, my strength would instantly return if the chains fell.

But my captors would take no chances.

I had no idea how long I had been in the dungeon at that point. How long it had been since I felt the sun on my skin or the wind in my hair. My last kill was at least a few years ago.

The current king, Volund, had unleashed me todo his evil bidding. The target was an innocent man from Chatus who refused to make a deal with the king. Citizens from one kingdom were not bound to obey the ruler of another. I was told to kill him in a very specific way, as Volund usually demanded. And I was good at my job.

Very good.

Sometimes years went by before my next assignment. The king kept me chained in my cell, lacing my food with wolfsbane. It made it taste like shit, but I ate it anyway, to survive.

I knew I had been working for the godsforsaken Sprathian kings for at least three centuries. I couldn’t remember how many generations of volatile kings it had been. But the death on my hands for them had to be nearing one hundred. I lost count decades ago.

Trying to escape proved futile. The first half century, I tried many times to flee while on assignment. But that little witch of theirs would always be able to find me. Then they would force me back and torture me viciously again and again, sometimes for weeks at a time. Eventually, I stopped trying to escape. Each time they let me out of my cell for a job was like brief liberation – freedom from my chains, my captors, my torture. I would kill anyone, in any way, to get that minuscule taste of freedom.

I hated doing it. Hated killing innocents. But the freedom it brought me was all I had.

Lycans and witches always got along in the past. But this witch, Sarai, must have been conjured up from the depths of the underworld. She was miserably evil.

Witches were powerful creatures, able to use the elements of the earth to create nearly any spell, complete nearly any task. Sarai, for example, channeled most of her powers through water. That was how she always found me. She could astral project through still bodies of water, and she would do so to find me or communicate with me while outon an assignment.

If the water was moving, like a stream or river, she couldn’t tap into it. But, water was fucking everywhere – ponds, lakes, even fucking puddles. As long as the surface was big enough for her face to fit through, she could use it to connect with me.

I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape the kings. When I tried, Sarai would easily locate me, and they would send their warriors with wolfsbane-laced weapons to collect me. Then they would bring me back and torture me until I broke, forcing me to promise my allegiance.

My head twitched as I heard the familiar sound of footsteps heading towards my dungeon cell. That usually meant some poor servant was bringing me food or coming to clean up my shit. But when I realized I was hearing multiple sets of heavy footsteps, I knew this was going to be another assignment – another small speck of freedom before I would be put right back in here.

The large wooden door to my cell opened, and I stayed completely still. Although most of my heightened senses were depleted while wolfsbane was in my system, I could still recognize the stench of the king. He smelled as though death and decay followed him everywhere.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, your majesty?” I snarled with sarcasm.

Volund stepped through the door, three warriors waiting behind him. He feared to be alone with me, even in my poisoned state. Coward.

“Shut up, dog,” he seethed. With a snap of his fingers, two of the warriors stepped past him to unchain me. I rubbed at my wrists, getting used to the feeling of them being free. “You have an assignment.”

Figured. He always came to fetch me personally when he had a job for me. I think he liked seeing me rot. Or maybe he got off on seeingme in chains. I don’t fucking know.

I stood up, towering over both warriors. They rushed back to their master. Although I was in this dungeon cell for years at a time, Volund ordered me to keep fit, and I happily obliged. It was hard to do so while in restraints and with poison in my veins, but I managed, using my own bodyweight as a tool to maintain my muscle. Volund also made sure I got plenty of shit-food laced with wolfsbane. How kind.

I followed the king and his warriors up to his throne hall. Sarai stood waiting next to Volund’s throne, her black-violet hair cut shorter than the last time I saw her. She eyed me with disdain, malice written on her face. Her gaze turned toward Volund and her expression changed to something of lust. She was madly in love with him, or maybe just obsessed. She had been working for the kings for as long as I had. Longer, even. But with Volund, I could tell something in her was different.

Volund sat on his throne and I stood before them. The three warriors remained behind me, no doubt ready to throw their daggers at me if I made a wrong move. But I wouldn’t. I had done this song and dance many times.

“As I said, you have an assignment. A very difficult one. Perhaps your hardest yet.”

I knew better than to interrupt so I stood there silently.