Page 7

SEVEN

SELENE

B y the fourth day, Selene learned to stop flinching every time someone bared their teeth at her.

They weren’t smiles. Not really. The shifters had expressions like blades—sharp-edged and glinting with intent. And House Fenrir was a den of them. She'd started calling it the court of pretty wolves and pretty lies.

They liked to watch her. To whisper when they thought she wasn’t listening.

The human girl. The bonded one. The foreigner with the cursed blood.

And Selene? She smiled right back.

She smiled like it didn’t cost her anything. Like her skin didn’t still crawl from the bond burning beneath it. Like her heart wasn’t pounding every time she stepped into a room that felt more like a trap than a throne hall.

She was good at pretending.

Damn good.

She'd grown up across endless polished floors in human embassies, always watching her father talk like peace was a currency. She’d learned to read tension by the twitch of a jaw, a sideways glance, a pause too long between words. She applied all of it here.

The Fenrir court was heavier on fur and prophecy, sure. But the games were the same. Power. Threats. Leverage.

The stakes were just bloodier.

Kael had been tight-lipped since the audience—tense, brooding, as if barely holding himself together with string and spit. He gave her orders when necessary. Offered clipped replies when she asked questions. And left just before she could press too far.

He wasn’t cruel. But he sure as hell wasn’t kind.

They shared rooms during official events, always standing close enough for show. She let his hand hover near hers in public, let her eyes soften when they turned toward her. She played her part. And Kael did too.

But every time they were alone, the walls came up fast.

Like he was afraid she might slip past them.

It was during one of the daily court meetings—less a meeting, more a theatrical display of power—that she noticed him.

Lord Varyn Duskthorn.

He was seated three rows to the left of the throne dais, angled just so that the light kissed the edge of his black velvet sleeves. His long dark hair was tied at the nape, his smile lazy and amused as he watched her walk in beside Kael.

He bowed with a slow grace that felt too polished, too smooth.

When their eyes met, he held her gaze a second too long.

Selene filed that away.

Later, when the meeting dissolved into posturing and polite assassination attempts masked as negotiations, she drifted toward the outer ring of the hall. She could breathe better near the columns, away from the smothering heat of wolfish stares.

“You hide it well,” came a voice at her side.

She turned slightly.

Varyn.

He stood with the casual arrogance of someone who’d never needed to fight for attention. Midnight-black hair, skin like polished bronze, and a smile that gleamed without warmth. His eyes, a deep shade of onyx, glittered like something secret.

“Hide what?” she asked lightly.

He shrugged one elegant shoulder. “The discomfort. The fear. The bite of the leash.”

Selene arched a brow. “Is that what they call political alliances now?”

His smile curved. “Oh, I like you.”

“That makes one of us.”

Varyn laughed, low and smooth. “Come now. You wound me, my lady. I’m simply admiring the rarest creature in this whole bloody castle.”

“And what’s that?”

“Something unpredictable.” His gaze dipped slightly. “Old blood wrapped in new skin. The court thinks you’re fragile. I think you’re dangerous.”

That comment, the way he said it, took her by surprise.

He tilted his head, and something about the motion made her think of a snake scenting prey.

“You know what you are, don’t you?”

Selene’s fingers twitched at her side. “I know enough.”

“Mm.” Varyn took a slow step closer. Not too close. Just enough to make her instinctively stiffen.

“I wonder if Kael knows,” he murmured. “What you carry. What you could awaken, if someone showed you how.”

“And let me guess—you’re offering?”

His eyes gleamed. “I offer nothing, my lady. I only observe. But the ones who will come for you… they won’t ask. And Kael Fenrir? He’s too bound by pride and prophecy to see clearly. He’ll keep you on a leash and call it duty.”

Selene’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’d rather be on a leash than curled at your feet.”

That finally made something flicker in his expression—a flash of something colder, sharper.

But it vanished quickly, replaced by another slow smile.

“Careful, Lady Morwen. Even wolves can be tamed, given the right… incentive.”

She found Kael later, in the weapons yard, shirtless and bristling with frustration as he trained with two guards. The snap of wood against wood echoed in the twilight air, each strike precise and brutal.

He didn’t look at her as she approached.

“I met your court pet today,” she said by way of greeting.

Kael didn’t pause. “Which one?”

“Varyn. The velvet-and-venom type.”

Kael grunted. “Stay away from him.”

She folded her arms. “That’s it? No explanation?”

“You don’t need one.”

Selene’s jaw tightened. “You know, I’m getting real tired of ‘because I said so.’”

Kael stopped mid-strike. Turned to her.

His chest rose and fell, skin gleaming with sweat, eyes gold-bright in the dying light from his near shifts for training.

“He’s dangerous.”

“So are you.”

Kael stepped closer, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

“Just control me. Right.”

His jaw flexed. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“For a prophecy neither of us asked for.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real.”

Selene took a breath.

The air between them was charged. Buzzing. SHe challenged his gaze long before she looked away.

“I don’t trust him,” she said softly.

Kael's voice was quiet. “Good. Don’t trust me either.”

She met his gaze again.

“I don’t.”

But the longer she looked… the less sure she was.