I gasped awake, my breath coming easier but still painful.
The light hit me hard. It was too bright, too much. I blinked against it, my fingers clutching warm blankets I didn't remember curling into. I was human again. The pain wasn't gone. Just dull now, a throbbing echo reminding me of my ordeal in Serrat.
Someone shifted beside me. I turned my head, and there he was. Forest Man. Sitting there like he owned the damn chair and the whole world that came with it. All lazy grace and eyes that saw too much.
"Good afternoon, little fox." His voice was crushed velvet, smothering my good sense. "You've been asleep longer than we expected."
"We?" My throat was dry, voice rough. I tried to sit up. My ribs protested, a sharp pulse of pain reminding me how close I'd come to dying. "Where am I?"
"Tyrrim." He replied like it was the obvious answer. One of the Lycan cities, far north. Far from my village. Far from everything I knew. He handed me a glass of water, and I took it with shaking hands. "Drink."
I took a grateful sip, eyeing him warily.
"Thank you." The words were soft, barely pitched above the hush of the room. I didn't mean just for the water.
He shook his head once, slowly. "No, little fox. Don't thank me. I have plans for you."
He stood, every inch of him unfolding from the chair. I followed him with my eyes.
"You have one day to rest. Tomorrow, we begin your training."
I blinked at him. "Training?"
He smiled. It wasn't kind.
"The Lycan King requires your service, little fox. Tomorrow you begin assassin training."
I stared at him. Assassin? A broken shifter girl with no clan, no status, no power? What was I supposed to do, throw sarcastic comments until his enemies died of irritation?
I laughed once. The sound was dry and cracked. "I think you have me confused with someone dangerous."
"I'm not confused, little fox. You aren't dangerous. Not yet." He sank back into his chair with a sigh, like we were just talking weather. "But you will be."
I set the water down and narrowed my eyes. "You don't even know me."
He smirked. "Oh, but I do, Cassidy No-clan. Fox shifter from that charming little pit of dirt, Serrat. Bastard daughter of a Lord Alpha, too noble to be a drudge, too common to be more. Training with siblings who would never call you sister. Living half a life. Forgotten. Until now."
My spine went stiff. His words cut closer than they had any right to.
"You're awfully arrogant for someone I've only just met." I muttered.
"But we've traveled together for days now." He was mocking me. "Surely I've made an impression."
"Nope." I looked him square in the eye. "Can't say you have. I don't even know who you are."
"Well then, little fox." He gave a mock bow from his seat. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tomas. But I prefer if my subjects knew me as the Lycan King. Your King."
My mouth opened. Closed. I couldn't breathe for a second. No. No way. He couldn't be.
"You're lying."
"I never lie." He spread his hands, smirking.
My blood ran cold. This man, who was deferential to my mother, was our King? Gods, I'd practically snuggled him. He had held me so gently. And this was our King? Sire-bane? The man who'd murdered his father to ascend the throne?
He could easily have me killed for breathing wrong. Or dirtying his precious silk shirt.
What the hell had I gotten pulled into?
"Why?" I asked hoarsely. "Why would you need an assassin? You have armies. Knights. Lycan and other Predators trained from birth to kill for you."
"Exactly, they're known. Visible. But you?" He leaned forward. "You're nothing. No clan. No allegiance. No ties I don't control. I can mold you into something better. Something useful."
"And how exactly would I get close enough to slaughter your enemies?"
"You're pretty enough. I'm sure you could find your way into a bed or two."
"You want me to sleep with your enemies and then murder them?" I was horrified. I hadn't even had my first kiss.
"If that's what's needed, yes." His voice didn't even waver. "Men are fools. They think with their dangly bits. Get them into bed, and they bleed easier."
Bile tickled my throat. "That's monstrous."
He shrugged. "Welcome to politics. And war. But relax. You'll be trained for that too. There's enough brothels around to find someone to tutor you. We can make sure you don't fumble it."
Icy rage slid through my veins. I may have been No-Clan, but I wasn't a prostitute.
I lurched to my feet. Pain sliced through my side like fire, but I didn't care. My hand cracked across his face before I could blink.
For a single stunned moment we both stared at me. Him at my face, me at my hand.
Then he rose. Towering over me.
"Touch me again, little fox," His words were soft. "And I'll mount your hand on my wall as a warning. I've ended men for far less."
His finger came under my chin, tilting my face up until his eyes locked with mine. "Do I make myself clear?"
I nodded. My breath caught in my chest. "Yes, your Highness."
He smiled again. It was the smile of a predator that couldn't decide whether to play with his food or swallow it whole. "You don't have to call me that. 'Sir' is fine."
Then, with no warning, he stepped forward. His fingers wrapped in the front of my borrowed nightdress, his grip tight. "Don't make me hurt you, Cassidy. I'm not above enjoying the act of making you bleed."
He released the fabric, shoving me solidly back on the bed.
He didn't touch me again. Just turned and walked to the door.
"Dinner. Two hours." He called over his shoulder. "Wear something pretty. And for the sake of all our senses, take a bath."
The door clicked shut behind him. Leaving me alone with my shame.