Page 4 of Traitor Wolf (Bonded by Fate Duet #1)

Chapter Three

I snuck out before the littles woke. My mother and I decided only to tell Tyrus what I was really doing.

He’d have to take over my two jobs to keep food on the table, but we vowed to tell my other siblings I was away for a special job for the next month and would try to visit.

I kept my goodbye with my mother brief because I was starting to lose my nerve.

Was I crazy?

An eighteen-year-old magicless about to enter the Arcane Trials? Did I have a death wish? Maybe… but the thought of my mother and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins all getting magic overnight and becoming Elites, it kept me going. It forced me to swallow my fear.

I slunk back through the hole in the fence, not wanting to bother with the guards at the front gates, and followed the map on the back of the letter to the Hall of Binding.

I passed men on horseback and many carriages with Elites in nice dress, but also servants too.

I got a few dirty looks, but no one stopped to ask me what I was doing here, so I pressed on.

When I reached the hall, I took a moment to marvel at the tall golden spires and white stonework.

It was a huge building, with a colosseum inside.

It was where the Elites held all of their sporting events, and the famous wolf binding ceremony, which only happened once every five years during the Arcane Trials.

For the short time of the trial, a wolfkin would magically bond themselves to an Elite and vow to keep them alive throughout the trial.

Their reward for such service? An ancient, powerful weapon they could bring back to their own land, Fenmyr.

I’d been to Aerlyn plenty of times on field trips with school, or festival days, but I’d never seen a wolfkin.

I heard they looked like a normal man or woman, only bigger, and that they had golden eyes.

If you made them angry, they could shift into a wolf in the blink of an eye and rip your throat out.

As I made my way to the front door of the hall, I noticed a cluster of Watchers off to the right. They wore long black duster jackets and bore the golden mark of the House of Caelthorn, who were known for their combat magic .

One of them snapped their head up at me as I passed and scowled.

“Dreg rat, what are you doing here?”

I swallowed hard, deciding to just own my confidence. “I was invited.” I peeled back my tattered shirt and bared the mark on my chest. Then I held up the note.

They all moved very quickly then. One moment I was standing there, and the next an invisible force knocked me to my knees as a golden band tied my arms behind my back, and then came around my throat.

I gasped and sputtered, trying to breathe as they stalked towards me, eventually looming over me.

“Where did you get that mark?” the tallest man with long black hair asked. His House of Caelthorn mark, a flaming sword, sat inside the triangle that designated him a magic user. Not that he needed such a designation, as the gold bands currently choking me were proof enough that he had magic.

I tried to speak but was unable.

“Unhand her!” a male voice boomed, and my gaze flicked to the doors that had just sprang open. A young man, about twenty years old with bright blond hair, and who was the spitting image of the Draven heir I met last night, strode towards us.

“Sir, we have captured a suspect in the murder of your brother,” one of the Watchers said .

His brother was the guy who sponsored me? That explained why they looked so much alike.

“Unhand her,” he growled again, but this time there was something dangerous in his voice. The magical binds holding me in place fell away at once as I crashed to the ground, gasping and sputtering for breath.

“My lord, she wears your brother’s sponsor mark. She must have been with him before he died.”

I kept my head bowed and said nothing, not wanting to be killed before I could even have a chance to compete in the trial.

“You think she tricked one of the most powerful Elites into giving her his invite?” the brother questioned.

“Well, no, obviously not, but… she could have… forced him?”

The guy laughed. “A magicless from the Dregs forced Regalis Draven to give her his mark?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Get up,” the lookalike told me calmly.

I glanced up at him quickly, afraid, but did as he asked. I kept my head bowed, careful not to touch anyone around me. I might bear this mark, but to them, I was still a Dreg rat.

“Did you see my brother last night between the hours of eight and nine at night?” the young lookalike asked me.

I knew it would be unwise to lie.

“Yes,” I said.

“Look at me when you speak, please,” he commanded, and I did, raising my chin to meet his.

His eyes were no longer blue. They were purple.

Magic? I realized then that he was using magic on me in some way.

“Yes,” I answered again.

“See!” the Watchers who surrounded us said, as if my mere admission to seeing the Elite meant I had killed him.

“And did you force him, coerce him, or trick him in any way into giving you that mark?” the young man asked.

“No.” I held his gaze, understanding now that he must have truth magic. It was a powerful magic to have, and very rare.

He kept his purple-eyed gaze steady on me. “Did you have anything to do with his death?”

“No,” I said, holding his gaze.

The young man sighed and nodded before peering at the others. “She speaks the truth.”

“Cassian, this is outrageous!” the lead Watcher said. “Ask her what Regalis said, ask her why he gave her the mark. Was he drunk? Did someone pay him? Is this some plot?”

For a split second, I saw fear flash across the blond man, Cassian’s, face, then just as quickly it was gone.

Cassian peered at me. “Did the man who gave you that mark speak to you? Did he say anything about why he would give the most prestigious magical honor in our world to a dirty Dreg rat?”

His words were nasty, but his tone was not. It was like he was trying to be mean but couldn’t.

I risked everything then, trying to read his facial cues, which were telling me not to say the truth now. They were telling me to lie.

“No. He didn’t say a word.” I lied.

Cassian’s nostrils flared slightly. “Truth,” he told the men. “We will never know what my brother was thinking when he did this, but the fact remains she has a legal right to the trial.”

The Watchers began to argue then, and that’s when I saw her.

Out of the corner of my eye, a streak of red: Corvessa Solvaris, magistrate of all of Aerlyn.

I’d never seen her up this close, only waving from a balcony on Flag Day.

She was much prettier in person. Not a day over forty years old, with long chocolate-brown hair, red-painted lips, and a tight red dress.

A golden cape was draped over her shoulders and dragged behind her as she walked.

My gaze flew to the prominent Solvaris heir mark on her chest: a sunburst inside of her triangle magic user mark.

She gave me a pinched smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “What’s going on out here—” Her gaze fell to the mark on my chest, and the temperature dropped thirty degrees.

Literally.

They called her the ice queen; she had control over the weather. I heard she could light a man on fire with her mind or freeze her enemies where they stood. I always thought it was a lie. Until now.

“Why is she wearing that ?” she snarled as her gaze fell to my chest.

The younger man, Cassian, threw his hand out my way, and suddenly my ears felt muffled. The Watchers, the magistrate, and Cassian got into a heated conversation, with me only being able to attempt to read lips. All sound had been blocked from reaching my ears.

Sewer rat, magic, trial, no way in Hades . It seemed like the magistrate didn’t want me to enter the trial, but Cassian was saying… mark, cause rebellion, will die in the first week…

The Watchers still seemed to be implicating me in the murder of the Draven heir, Regalis .

She was there. Sponsor mark. Murder.

My ears popped, and then I could suddenly hear.

“—and you questioned her?” the magistrate asked Cassian, a murderous gleam in her eye.

“Of course I did. She had nothing to do with my brother’s murder. She’s innocent, or I would have killed her right where she stands,” he stated, and a chill went down my spine.

“She’s hardly innocent, Cassian. She clearly broke into the city last night. I can throw her in the mines for such an infraction.” The magistrate moved towards me, and I wondered if I was supposed to be hearing this or not. It seemed likely not.

Cassian’s hand snaked out and grasped her upper arm lightly.

“With all due respect, you cannot throw her into the mines.”

The magistrate laughed, a barking tone. “She’s a rat with a mark on her chest. I can, and I will. Remove this?—”

“If you take a Dreg rat with a sponsor mark and throw her in the mines, there will be a rebellion the likes of which you’ve never seen. They’ll say she wasn’t given a fair chance, they’ll say we never give them anything…”

They didn’t give us anything.

She raised one eyebrow. “You’re suggesting I allow her to bond a wolfkin and choose one of our most sacred weapons and enter the trial?”

“Are you actually afraid she’ll win?” he asked and chuckled. “She won’t. She’ll be a martyr, her people will chant her name in the streets, and it will go down in history as the time the magistrate was just and allowed one of their own to try to win the trials.”

She gave him a half-lidded, flirty smile. “Are you trying to fluff my ego?”

“Does it need fluffing?” he flirted back, and I felt sick to my stomach. She was old enough to be his mother.

“My lady, he’s right,” the lead Watcher said. “If her people know about the sponsor mark and we don’t allow her to enter, it could start a war.”

The magistrate peered at me. “Can she hear me?” she asked.

Cassian snapped his fingers. “Now she can.” He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret, and I wondered if he knew I could hear him almost the whole time.

She peered at my chest. “How many people know you have this mark?”

Thank the Creator, I’d just been privy to the last half of the conversation.

“Everyone,” I lied. “I shouted it from the rooftops before I left. The entire Dregs is rooting for me.” Cassian’s nostrils flared slightly.

The magistrate peered at Cassian, and he nodded. “Truth.”

She growled.

And now I was one hundred percent certain that Cassian was… on my side? It was hard to believe. But he was definitely lying for me.

“Alright. The little sewer rats want a magicless to compete in the Arcane Trials, we will let them have their fun.” She grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

I swallowed hard. “So I can enter the trial?”

She reached out and grasped my shoulder, icy coldness going down my arm and settling into my fingers to the point of pain. “You can, and when you are ripped to pieces by a wolfkin, I will make sure your head hangs in the town square.”

I swallowed hard as she gripped my upper arm so hard I thought it might fall off, and then led me into the building.

Creator be with me.