Chapter 7
1077words
Snow dusted his cloak, his face even paler than usual. He seized my hand the moment he reached me. "Are you hurt? Did Grey follow you?"
I shook my head and showed him the wooden box. "There's a hidden compartment here. Something more valuable than the covenant might be inside."
He tapped the compartment with one finger, frowning. "We'll examine it at the manor. The palace just sent word—the king demands our presence."
The palace's glass dome gleamed coldly beneath the blood moon. Sickly green vines crawled up marble pillars—a fitting metaphor for this place's splendor, all rot beneath the surface.
I followed Leicester into the council hall. The king twirled a ruby scepter between his fingers, the stone's crimson light reflecting in his eyes—eerily similar to Leicester's own.
"Lady Valerian is punctual." The king set down his scepter, fingers drumming the armrest in a rhythm that chilled my blood—the same cadence that had accompanied executions in my previous life. "I hear you visited the Wolf Tribe's Sacred Cave. And retrieved certain… 'artifacts'?"
Leicester stepped forward, his cloak whispering across golden tiles. "Your Majesty jests. My wife merely visited an old friend. She would never presume to take Wolf Tribe property."
The king laughed—a sound like honey laced with poison that echoed through the empty hall. "Leicester, let's dispense with pretense. The Blood Curse on your chest, the Sacred Grove Alliance from three centuries past—House Valerian harbors many secrets, does it not?" His gaze slid to me. "Surrender the covenant, and I'll lift your Blood Curse. I'll even make Grey governor of the borderlands, ensuring his tribe never goes hungry."
At these words, Grey—standing beside the throne—visibly tensed. His pointed ears twitched, and his yellow eyes flashed with conflicting emotions: ambition for power warring with what little loyalty he still held for his tribe. His knuckles whitened around the bone-handled knife at his waist, betraying his inner turmoil.
"Is Your Majesty asking us to betray both our peoples?" Leicester's voice turned glacial, the Silver Dagger at his fingertips catching the light. "House Valerian does not yield to threats."
The king's smile vanished. His scepter struck the floor with a sharp crack. "Such ingratitude! Grey, tell me—if House Valerian refuses to surrender the covenant, what fate should befall the wolf tribe?"
Grey's head snapped up, his voice unsteady. "I… I will convince them to surrender it. Your Majesty has been generous to the wolf tribe." Yet his grip on the knife wavered—he hadn't forgotten how, in my previous life, the king had "been generous" right before ordering the wolf tribe's extermination.
I couldn't remain silent. "If Your Majesty truly valued the wolf tribe, why poison their water source? Why send Grey's warriors as cannon fodder at the border?"
The king's face darkened to thunder. Grey whirled to face him, stunned. "Your Majesty… is this true?"
"Absurd!" The king surged to his feet, slamming his fist on the table. His scepter flared with blinding light. "House Valerian spreads lies! Grey, retrieve the covenant now, and the governorship is yours!"
Grey's breathing grew ragged, the conflict in his yellow eyes reaching breaking point.
Finally, he tightened his grip on the knife and turned to leave. "I will bring Your Majesty an answer." His shadow stretched between pillars, seeming to split him in two.
Outside the palace, night fog hung thick as ink.
Leicester took my hand, his touch colder than ever. "Grey wavers. He may raid the manor tonight." I thought of the hidden compartment in the wooden box. "The king wants our tribes to destroy each other while he reaps the rewards."
Leicester nodded, producing a bronze whistle from his cloak. "I've had our people create an illusion maze around the manor, infused with Moonflower toxin. Any werewolf who breathes it will see specters. Wait in the study. If trouble comes, use this."
By the time we reached the manor, werewolf growls already rumbled through the darkness.
As I entered the study, a loud crash echoed from outside, followed by an agonized werewolf howl—the illusion maze claiming its first victim.
I hurriedly opened the wooden box, eager to examine its hidden compartment, when a voice called from the window: "Isabella, I know you're there."
Lucas—the king's guard who had secretly aided me in my previous life before Seraphina betrayed him to a fiery death.
I pushed open the window. Fresh blood stained his armor, and he shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "The king plans to slaughter both vampires and werewolves on Blood Moon night! Your covenant is the only proof! I'll help you escape with it, but first—save my sister from the dungeon!"
My heart twisted as I remembered Lucas's sister—a gentle soul who'd once shared her freshly baked pastry with me. Still, I couldn't risk blind trust. "How do I know this isn't the king's trap?"
Lucas pulled a jade pendant from his tunic—the Morningstar crest clearly engraved on its surface. Mother had given this to Lucas's mother years ago. It couldn't be counterfeit.
"Here's my proof. If you still doubt me, I'll take you to the dungeon myself."
As we headed toward the dungeon, werewolf howls grew closer through the mist. Screams multiplied around the manor grounds.
Just as we reached the dungeon entrance, the king's voice cut through the darkness behind us: "Lucas! You dare betray your sovereign?"
Lucas shoved me forward. "Run! Forget about me!" Guards swarmed from the shadows. As I fled, Lucas's screams mingled with the king's cold laughter: "Isabella! Let's see how long you can hide!"
Leicester found me in the palace corridor. Wolf blood stained his cloak, and his Silver Dagger still dripped crimson. "Grey brought half his clan in a sneak attack. They're all trapped in the illusion maze now." I showed him the jade pendant, my throat tight with fear. "Lucas has been captured. The king knows about the covenant."
Leicester helped me into night-dark clothing, preparing our escape.
Just then, Seraphina's voice pierced the night: "Isabella! Show yourself! The king has Grey! Come out now, or he dies!"
Leicester and I exchanged glances, both recognizing the trap. Yet we couldn't simply ignore it—Grey still commanded the Wolf Clan's forces. His death would throw them into chaos, making them easy prey for the king's schemes.
The night mist thickened. Outside the estate, wolf howls and vampire hisses blended into a discordant chorus—harsh yet somehow poignant, like a desperate requiem.
