LUCY
When I get downstairs, there is a car waiting for me in the deserted compound.
I feel somewhat relieved, because I don't really know the way to the city. Not truly. The engine is already running, a low, patient hum in the heavy morning air.
There was a time the driver would keep the door open for me so I could step in beside Doyle. But none of those treatments anymore.
Quit it, Lucy. I muse bitterly to myself, because thinking about privileges I've lost will only make me weaker—less likely to follow through with my decision.
I pull my bag down onto the polished marble floors, veined, smooth and gleaming like the rest of the mansion—and begin to roll it slowly toward the car. The wheels click softly with each step I take.
When I reach the vehicle, I open the door mechanically, toss my bag inside, then pause just before entering.
I look back.
The mansion rises behind me in all its cruel, breathtaking glory. It is enormous—stately and proud—every inch of it fit for the Alpha King of an entire kingdom.
Pale stone walls stretch high toward the sky, carved with ancient wolf crests and curling runic designs that catch the early dawn light. The tall arched windows shine like watchful eyes, and the sweeping balconies stand in perfect symmetry, utterly magnificent.
The compound walls surrounding the estate are built from thick gray granite, layered and reinforced, crowned with iron spikes that glint a little in the morning haze. Beyond them, the manicured grounds spread wide—lush green lawns trimmed to perfection, stone pathways winding through rows of silver-leaf trees and carefully pruned hedges.
I remember running there as a child. Laughing. Belonging.
My throat tightens painfully. This place was once my whole world.
I swallow the rising ball of tears just as I am about to step into the car—
—and the front doors of the mansion open.
My father steps out.
I freeze. A foolish flicker of hope threads through my heart as he walks toward me with measured steps.
"Your mother says you promised to return? That you need some time to think—space, she called it…"
His voice is calm, even, as he stops a few feet from me.
And suddenly I am flooded with memories of the man I once called father.
I will miss him. Truly. But I will not be a pawn in their politics.
Still… I nod, just in case he might angrily order the driver to return the car to the garage.
"Good." He gives a short nod. "The driver will take you to the city of Elinox… do you remember it?"
I nod again.
"Beautiful. That's where you will stay…"
He hands me a small piece of paper.
I look down after I collect it. A number.
"Call it when you arrive," he continues. "A friend of mine. He will organize a place for you and provide anything you need."
"Thanks… father."
The words taste like dry paper in my mouth, but I see the tension ease slightly from his shoulders.
So the disownment has been… softened? So long as I dance to the tune they want.
Silence falls between us.
We stand there awkwardly, both of us staring everywhere but at each other.
I want to hug him. But I don't want to be pushed away.
Finally, he pats my arm stiffly. "Come back, and everything will be fine. I promise."
I nod for the third time, murmur something that sounds like goodbye, and slide into the car.
As the vehicle pulls out of the compound, sorrow and grief rise like a tidal wave inside me, threatening to break me apart, but I lock it all down.
I can cry when I get to the house in the city.
A city I don't even plan to stay in. It's only a distraction. Because I know the driver will report back to my father.
From Elinox, I will take a bus. Or a flight. Anything that gets me somewhere no one knows me—somewhere they will never think to look.
Anywhere but here.
Anywhere but back to a man who betrayed me.
The silence in the car is almost comfortable, at least for me. The driver plays loud music, eyes on the road, minding his business.
Sometimes I catch him watching me through the mirror, his expression unreadable. But no matter what he thinks of me, I know he won't hurt me.
He is trusted staff. He has served the Drakonias, even since my father was a child.
I'm just beginning to doze off when the car suddenly swerves roughly.
My eyes snap open.
The road has changed. It's rough. Rocky.
My frown deepens as I peer out the window. "Where are you going, Castin?"
This is not the route leading out of the region of Lykara, toward the city. The proper road runs between our lands and Frostmire.
This is—
"Castin!" I shout as the bumps grow more violent, as realization finally dawns.
"Apologies, princess…" he says coolly, increasing the speed. "But we don't need you back in the pack. You are bad luck. You are cursed. You should have been killed when your wolf didn't show. The Alpha was supposed to do the required—but he is too weak…"
My stomach drops. What is this idiot talking about?
"Castin! Stop this car…"
Fear blooms in my belly as we drive deeper into the desert hills of the Scarred Wilds—the ruined dragon lands. The forbidden territory. The place whispered about in fearful tones where strange creatures inhabit.
"Castin…" My voice breaks into a plea. "Please take me back. You can't do this… I won't return, I promise…"
But Castin is deaf to my begging. In the rearview mirror, I see his lips pressed into a thin, determined line.
I'm going to die.
The realization settles over me as solid as the bangles on my wrists.
At last, the car jerks to a stop at a clearing near the final boundary marker before the cursed region.
Relief floods me for one fragile second. Maybe he changed his mind—
But then he pulls a knife from his waist and flashes it toward me. "Get down, you accursed thing!"
My body trembles as I step out of the car. Instinctively, my hand moves to my belly—to protect the life that was there—
Then the memory hits. I lost that too.
And now… I'm about to lose my life.
"Go forward. Cross the boundary."
I shake my head frantically. I would rather die here than there.
My soul has to return to the Creator. If I die beyond that boundary, I will become a restless spirit—damned and wandering.
Surely Castin cannot be this cruel.
"Castin, please…" My voice breaks. "Remember my father's goodness to you and your family…"
Castin nods once.
"That's why I'm doing this," he says coldly. "And Beta Murduck paid me well too. Doyle too. We reason the same." His eyes harden. "You have to die."
Tears slip silently down my face. Exile wasn't enough for Doyle? He had to kill me too?
Before I can react, Castin grabs my arm. Despite his age, his grip is brutally strong as he drags me forward.
"Castin, please…" I chant over and over, my strength draining fast.
He doesn't listen.
When we reach the final boundary marker, he leans close and whispers,
"I'm sorry, princess… but this has to be done. Blame the goddess."
And he shoves me across the line.
Instantly my skin zings violently, like I've stepped through an invisible current, like I've crossed from one world into another the way they show in movies.
But there is no glowing barrier. No blue light. Nothing. Just wrong air… cold, heavy, wrong air.
I stagger, barely steadying myself, and when I look up, Castin has pulled out a pistol.
"Less messy," he mutters. "And I won't have to step into the forbidden grounds."
My eyes squeeze shut as I accept my terrible fate—
A sharp zap slices past my ear.
What is that?!
I gasp and open my eyes.
Castin is on the ground. With an arrow buried deep in his chest.
The hell!
My mouth falls open as I spin around wildly. But I see no one. Not even in the distance. Just hills and desert wind. Air that smells deeply, horribly wrong.
Where did the arrow come from?
Who—
A loud growl suddenly reverberates through the wasteland.
Adrenaline explodes through my veins. Ignoring the strange buzzing crawling over my skin, I run—stumbling back across the boundary, ignoring the hollow feeling that hits the moment I cross.
Thank goodness. I glance once toward the cursed lands. Then toward Castin's lifeless body. I shake my head and sprint toward the car.
Whoever saved me… thank you.
Maybe the goddess hasn't completely damned me after all.
At least… not yet.