“You can try to run,” he said softly. “I love a hunt.”
His fingers brushed the edge of the table beside me—slow. Deliberate.
“Know this, you could flee to the ends of the sea,” he continued, voice lowering. “You could cross into starlight itself.”
His eyes darkened. “But the wolfalwaysfinds the moon.”
He stopped beside me, leaning in close enough that his voice threaded against my ear. “You’re rare, Neri. Too rare to waste.”
“What I’m offering you, Nerina, is more than anyone else ever will—whether you recognize it now or not. You can live however you wish. You will not be confined to a ship, or the sea, or the land. It will all be ours.”
He held out his hand like salvation, but his eyes told a different truth—one written in ice and blood.
I didn’t take it.
“I need time,” I said, voice steady even as my thoughts churned like a storm tide.
How could I trust a word he said? And yet—how could I ignore it?
What if he was telling the truth—about Alaric, about the past, about the Veil? Every piece of my heart screamed in defiance, but doubt whispered louder than it ever had.
My hands curled in my lap.
I couldn’t tell if I was thinking—or already choosing.
I hated the thought of bowing to Veyrion’s will. But I hated the thought of Alaric’s blood on my hands even more. And Shadeau… gods, I wouldn’t survive another round in that pit.
I needed to be smart. Calculated. Play his game until I could rewrite the rules.
“Of course,” he said after a beat, lowering his hand. “But not too long, Neri. Time is a luxury you’re bleeding away.”
He crossed to a heavy chest near the hearth and drew out a fur coat—thick, well-crafted, smelling faintly of pine and smoke. He draped it over my shoulders with practiced care.
“You’ll need this. It’s cold in Ymirskald.”
I looked up, startled.
His smile curved like a blade. “I’m taking you to the elders.”
“They’ll know what you are,” he added, already deciding who would get to name it.
“I won’t lie to you. I may be harsh, to those who earn it—but not to you. You’re a woman of strength. I would never be cruel to you.”
I almost laughed. The wolf assuring the rabbit it would be a quick death. Cruelty didn’t always look like violence. Sometimes it looked like choices arranged so there was only one way out.
He returned to the table, refilled his glass, and gestured toward the door. “Allow me to escort you to your quarters. The least I can do.”
“Chivalry seems a strange accessory to your threats,” I muttered.
He chuckled. “Even wolves have manners.”
He opened the door, waiting for me to pass. I didn’t thank him. Didn’t speak. Just walked.
But the moment my boots touched the corridor floor, the mask cracked.
Panic flared hot in my chest. I hadn’t meant for it to come to this—hadn’t expected to end up caged on a ship bound for gods-know-where.
“If your room feels too empty… my door’s always open.” That wicked grin slid into place.
