When Eclipse had been locked in the strangest conversation with the blind Theta of the North, another presence had graced the room, stealing the air in a manner not even the Alpha Queen Scarlett NorthSteed could have ever pulled off.
Fear seized the atmosphere like a lurking shadow.
Not the loud kind. Nor the panicky type. No this was something quieter than that—both subtle and instinctive. The kind of fear that tightened throats and straightened unwilling spines.
And something about the way his silent steps echoed over the central stairs of the ballroom commanded instant attention.
His name was hummed like a collective whisper among the throng in the room; Malric NorthSteed. And then his titles followed; The White Arctic Wolf, Alpha Prince of the United Northern Pack, and next in line to rule the North.
But he wasn't just next in line. He was the only pureblood NorthSteed who was going to rule the North.
And yet, there he stood, his face carefully obscured by a mask whose origin dated down to a folklore that kept pups awake at night from terror.
The Lycan-Face-Eating mask. And he donned the terrifying thing like with the kind of audacity that came with a birthright.
His mask was intricately carved to resemble a devouring beast. Its teeth framed the lower half of his face, monstrous and elegant all at once. But it was the silver-white hair that spilled over his shoulders unbound that revealed his identity before any other thing ever did.
It was one of a kind after all. For he might be the only man with such prestige and status who was born with a silvery-white hair.
Eclipse felt her wolf rear violently for him. And before she could truly make sense of the sudden reality that had befallen her, her feet moved before her mind caught up.
She tried to stop but failed terribly.
Each step toward him felt inevitable, as though the floor itself had decided where she belonged. And throughout it all, she felt the blind Theta's beady stare at the back of her head even though it should have been ordinarily possible.
Her words came to her like a spell; "Do you believe that some lives are bent before they begin?"
Malric turned to her, as if drawn by the same thing that tugged at her. Except in his case, he was exceptionally calm and at ease in a manner that was terrifying.
And when his invisible gaze locked onto her with startling precision, her world shrank, before she finally collided into him helplessly.
"Do you believe that some meetings are not meetings at all—but collisions?"
The noise in the background faded, and right there, it was just her and the man who easily held the attention of all in the room. Heat coiled low in her belly, her pulse roared in her ears.
Instinctively, she took two steps away because their proximity burned like something that should never have existed.
There she stood before him wearing an almost ridiculously cute white rabbit mask while he returned her gaze with his terrifying Lycan-face eating mask that covered his face and left nothing but fear to the imagination.
Truly, maybe it was not so terrifying of a mask. After all, the tale behind it told about a lycan shifter who once 'ate' his own face in an attempt to disfigure himself and render him unrecognizable.
But she had to admit that the desperation behind the posthumously famous act was worrying.
But not as worrisome as why the man the moon goddess had fated her to was donning on such an ominous mask.
So there they stood as light and shadow. Beginning and the end.
Her heart stuttered.
He was warm—she could feel it from here. Like standing too close to a fire she knew would soothe and comfort her.
Whispers erupted around them.
"His mate?"
"And she is from a border pack?"
"Even on days like this the Moon Goddess sure knows how to play cruel jokes."
Malric's hand lifted…hovering just between them. As if touching her was something he had already decided against.
"Who are you?" he uttered, his voice the very picture of rabid control.
Too controlled.
Like a bowstring drawn so taut and yet managing to remain steady through multiple attempts to locate its target.
Eclipse opened her mouth. To say something, to say nothing… but he didn't let her speak.
"It doesn't matter." His words weren't unkind. That was worse. Because a different reality now pressed against her, and yet she was at a loss on how to escape the spell. The spell that had long been cast by the Theta's ominous words.
His hands, graceful slender fingers which she had no choice but to notice, fell to his sides like a god who had made the easy decision to abandon his subjects.
"I would have—" He stopped.
Something flickered behind the mask. Conflict. Calculation? Resoluteness.
"…chosen you." He finished, sentencing her to death.
The silence that followed was deafening.
He said… 'Would have'. 'Would have chosen her?' Tears burned through her eyes because those words, spoken with so much weight, were infinitely worse than the words of rejection that was going to come next from lips.
Her chest caved inward. She didn't wait to hear the rest. Just as he started to say, 'I Malric North…', she turned and ran.
Gasps followed her. Murmurs. Laughter—soft, disbelieving.
She fled the ballroom with lungs that burned from shame and blurred vision. When one of her shoes slid from her feet, she abandoned it and continued her journey for fear that if she stopped for a moment, she would be exposed for the coward that she is.
She finally made it to her carriage with one bleeding foot. When the cold air outside slapped her, she realized her face was wet underneath her mask. Angrily, she tugged off the white rabbit mask, wiping her tears away.
He didn't deserve her tears.
And come tomorrow, she would bravely face him and accept his rejection.
For now, she just needed to escape. Panting, one foot bleeding and her mask in hand, she arrived at her carriage where Ronan, her personal guard, was waiting for her.
His eyes widened. "Miss, what has happened to you—"
"Take me home for I must see my sister," she cut him off, "then tomorrow morning, I am afraid I must trouble you to make a journey with me."
The journey to face Malric NorthSteed's rejection.
Ronan hesitated, but nodded nonetheless at the command. But little did Eclipse know that tomorrow would never come.
Perhaps, if she had known better, she should have grovelled and begged for Malric's rejection.
For rejection would have been a far better fate than the consequences she faced that night—
—Consequences that ripped her world apart and painted it red.