Page 5 of Traitor Wolf (Bonded by Fate Duet #1)

Chapter Four

W hen we stepped inside the Hall of Binding, I wasn’t sure what I expected to see, but over a hundred wolves in the center of the arena, with two dozen glowing weapons in a crescent moon shape encircling them, was not it.

The harsh mixture of noises as I entered the Hall of Binding jarred my senses.

There was animalistic snarling, which seemed quiet compared to the murmurs as onlookers pointed to the different wolfkin spread out in the center of the arena.

To the left and right of the stadium were seating that went all the way up to the ceiling, and it was filled with Elites.

My gaze flicked to the right, where half a dozen Arcane Trials initiates stood at the base of a podium.

I could tell they were initiates because they all wore the same black jumpsuit, which had a cutout to proudly display their sponsor mark.

Only the heir of the house could sponsor, and that meant I was the only House of Draven sponsored person here.

If an Elite wasn’t one of the seven royal houses, they’d have to try to buy the mark off an heir or stick with whatever magic they inherited in their non-royal bloodline.

Every eye began to move in my direction as we neared the stage, and it became painfully clear that I was an outsider.

From my torn and dirty clothes to the grease under my fingernails, I’d never really felt dirty until surrounded by such cleanliness.

I’d bathed this morning, but grease from sorting old nuts and bolts at the factory had stained my nails perpetually.

Slowly, a hush fell over the crowd as people gawked at me. The magistrate stepped up to the podium, smiling hugely, and Cassian stepped into line beside me.

I peered up at him. “Thanks for?—”

“Don’t speak to me.” He cut me off, and my head reeled back in shock.

Wow, jerk .

I was just going to thank him for helping me. I crossed my arms, glaring at him as the magistrate pulled an amplifier to her lips and spoke.

“It seems that before Regalis Draven died, he left us with a little gift.” She tossed a grin my way. “For the purposes of your entertainment, I am allowing a magicless to compete in the Arcane Trials.”

Silence stretched across the crowd as my heart beat so hard that I felt it in my ears. The only thing that could be heard was the wolves inside the arena pacing back and forth, snarling, bumping into each other, and snapping to get room.

The onlookers laughed. As if on cue, every single person snickered, including Cassian beside me.

For some reason, hurling insults, or even silence, was better than this. The laughing made me feel so small, I wanted to wither into nothing.

Was I completely stupid for thinking I could do this? As I eyed the group of trial contestants before me, I decided yes . They all looked so strong and powerful. And each one carried deadly magic. Magic they would use against me the second they were allowed.

Then the laughter turned to cheers. They clapped raucously as if excited about the chance to see a magicless rat from the Dregs compete against the Elite.

I wanted to run home and cut this mark off my chest, but then I locked eyes with a white wolf in the center of the room.

He was the only pure white wolf in the pack of them, with fur so silver it reminded me of moonlight, or of my hair.

On his forehead was a black diamond splotch, the only hint of color he had.

His yellow eyes were boring straight into mine .

My breath caught in that gaze, and something came over me.

Courage, defiance, pride.

This wolf was staring at me like he believed in me, like I was the only worthy person in this whole arena. It caused me to stand a little taller and tip my chin high.

The magistrate then went over the rules for the trial, and I listened carefully.

There would be three trials over three weeks.

Killing outside of each trial was frowned upon but not against the rules.

We would each have a chance today to walk around the weapons and choose one—or more accurately, as Corvessa said, it would choose us.

Then we would stand in the center of the cordoned-off area that held the weapons and hopefully bond a wolfkin —if they liked the weapon that had chosen us, since it would be their reward at the end of the trial.

If we survived the bonding, we trained here in the city at Aerlyn Academy, a fortified training center with a residence hall here. I knew of Aerlyn Academy. It was also where they trained their magic users from age six in how to wield.

The morning before the first trial, we were to be shipped off to where the Arcane Trials were held outside the city, at the base of the Steel Mountains. Each week, the survivors would then be brought back to the city to continue training in Aerlyn Academy.

When the magistrate was done going over the rules, she dismissed us to have a private moment with our sponsor before we would each be called up to choose our weapon and bond ourselves with a wolfkin protector.

One by one, each contestant paired up with their sponsor and walked off to a side area that had small changing rooms. Cassian tugged the end of my shirt sleeve, and I began to walk with him, only just now putting together the fact that with his brother dead, he must be my sponsor now.

He was sending me conflicting vibes. One second, he was lying to the magistrate for me, and the next, he was telling me not to speak and calling me a sewer rat.

I wordlessly followed him, trying not to touch any of the Elites that we passed.

“Smells like the Dregs are leaking again,” a woman sneered as we passed her. Her friends laughed, and then a male tossed another stupid insult my way:

“I didn’t know they let the rats out into the daylight.”

I noticed Cassian’s hands ball into fists. But he said nothing.

The insults didn’t bother me. I’d heard them my whole life; they were uninviting and boring.

I kept my head down and walked right into the small private room with Cassian.

The space was about ten feet by ten feet, with a single locker at the back wall, a shower and toilet in the corner, and a medical table with some bandages and elixirs, probably for healing if I got injured.

The second the door shut, Cassian threw his hand at it, tossing some kind of golden magic over the door.

It splashed across the doorframe, bleeding like ink until it covered the entire thing.

I gasped in wonder. I wasn’t used to seeing magic like this on a daily basis.

“We can speak freely now, but outside these walls, you do not address me in any sort of friendly manner,” he told me. “I’m Cassian Draven. What’s your name?”

“Okay…” I hedged. “I’m Brynn Brighton.”

He nodded and began to pace the room, glancing at me worriedly. “I thought… I… what happened with my brother? What did he tell you?”

I hesitated, wanting to protect the man who’d given me this mark.

He shook his head. “You don’t understand, we only have a little time, and both of our lives are on the line. My brother planned to sponsor his lover, Fiona Saltwater, but?—”

“Fiona! But she’s from the Dregs,” I gasped.

And she was my friend. Sort of. She lived at the south end of the Dregs; we didn’t work together, but I liked her, and any time we saw each other, we spent time catching up.

She was always generous with extra food or towels, or whatever she had that someone might need.

Cassian nodded. “He loved her all the same. He wanted to bring her and her family into the city and give them magic. This was the only way.”

Did he really just say that? Fiona . No wonder her family looked so healthy. Regalis probably made sure they had medical care and food and?—

“Why didn’t he?” I asked.

“Someone must have found out. They poisoned him. He died before he could sponsor her. Upon his death, the heir mark came to me, but the sponsor mark was missing. I knew then he’d given it to another, but I didn’t know who.

Tell me what my brother said to you in his dying moments.

Please…” The way his voice cracked broke my heart.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “He was very calm. He seemed to know he was dying and was unafraid.”

Cassian nodded, looking relieved. “Sounds like Reg.”

“He had maybe been poisoned? There were black veins growing up his face.”

“Yes, I saw the… body. Creator’s death. A poison no Elite with healer magic can fix.”

I nodded. “He asked me if I was hungry. I was digging through the trash for food outside a party. I told him I was hungry all the time, and then he gave me the mark.”

“That’s it?”

What he’d said to me was treason. Even speaking it out loud now would be illegal.

Silence stretched between us.

Cassian took two steps towards me so that our bodies were nearly touching. His scent enveloped me, and I inhaled: sage and cedarwood, just like his brother. Warmth spread throughout my chest as I peered up into his deep blue eyes.

“My brother and I aren’t like the rest of our family,” Cassian said.

“We don’t believe in the class system. We think magic should be for all.

I want my brother’s death to mean something, and I think since he couldn’t bring Fiona and her family up from the Dregs, he wanted to make the same statement with you . ”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What he was saying… it was unheard of.

I nodded. “He said, Magic for all. Equality ,” I told him in a small voice.

A grin washed over his face, and my knees quite nearly went weak with how handsome he was when he smiled.

“Good.” Cassian nodded. “Then I will do everything in my power to help you win. For Regalis and Fiona. For the Dregs and the magicless. You, Brynn, were my brother’s dying wish, and I want you to win this. ”

I nearly fell in love with him right then and there. What was this Elite heir talking about? Not believing in the class system? Wanting me to win? It was crazy, and I loved it. I had someone in my corner, someone who believed I could win this.

“What do I do to win?” I asked, feeling excited for the first time. I had a powerful Elite heir rooting for me.

He nodded. “We don’t have much time. Change into this while I talk. It was made for Fiona, but it should fit you, more or less.”

Fiona was slightly curvier than me, and a bit taller, but it would fit. He gave me his back, facing the door, as I dropped my tattered clothes and slipped on the sleek black jumpsuit.

“What happens next is pretty much out of your control.” His voice ricocheted off the walls.

“The weapons choose the warrior, and then based on that, the wolfkin chooses the warrior because they want the weapon. At the end of the trials, the winner gets a new form of magic, but the wolfkin, for his or her service, gets to keep your weapon. It’s their entire motivation for protecting you. ”

I nodded. I knew most of that, and then I shyly struggled to zip up the back of my jumpsuit. It was made of some fancy type of material I’d never felt before.

“So I need to get a good weapon so that a powerful wolfkin will choose me?” I asked, still struggling with the zipper. “How do I get a good weapon to choose me? Are they magically… alive or something?” I didn’t really know how a weapon could choose a person.

“That is where it’s out of your control. Some say the Creator chooses which weapon will glow when you approach it. Others say the magic in the weapon can feel the strength in the person, and will only activate for someone of equal power.”

I grunted, and then there was a knock on the door.

“Can I turn around?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I need help with this zipper,” I said, and then turned to give him my back.

He sucked in a breath, and I peered over my shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

The look on his face was absolute shock, but he covered it with a tight smile. “Nothing. You just… nothing.”

Shame burned my cheeks. Did I look bad or something? Was my back dirty? Probably. I’d showered this morning, and my clothes were clean-ish, but I’d never be Elite clean .

“I just what?” I pressed him. Let the clean Elite call me dirty. Sure, he was being nice now, but we grew up in different worlds. He still saw me as a rat.

He tenderly reached out and zipped up my jumpsuit and then cleared his throat. “I don’t want to offend you, but… you’re skin and bones. Do you need something to eat before?—?”

“I’m fine!” I snapped, spinning around and facing him fully.

My entire life, there was a slow-burning fire deep inside of me, an anger at the way things were.

How the Hades could one family live in a ten-bedroom mansion and scrape half their dinner into the trash can while I boiled rat soup for my family of thirteen?

It wasn’t fair . I wasn’t asking for a handout.

I’d work sixteen-hour days, whatever it took to make enough to fill every belly in my house twice a day.

But that was the problem. The pay wasn’t enough.

The food wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough.

I knew Cassian’s comment wasn’t meant to be mean, but it ignited the fire inside of me until it was at full burn.

“I’m skinny because the class system has been starving the Dregs for centuries.

Because while your brother and his friends got fat at their party last night, I was sifting through the trash to feed my brothers and sisters.

I’m skin and bones because the system wants me that way,” I growled. “It wants me dead.”

There were unshed tears in his eyes, and he just nodded, which made me feel bad. Then the door opened and allowed the fire inside of me to burn iron-hot.

Screw the Elite . It didn’t matter that I was magicless. I was going to take this whole system down and probably die trying.

Regalis wanted equality and magic for all? That wasn’t likely to happen. But I could shove it in their faces and let them know I was more than just a little Dreg rat. That I could do.