Hekate’s Bride

Chancellor Vesper makes his way to the middle of the field, flanked by sentinels on either sides of him. Behind him is a figure in those dreadful robes that I can never forget. The Grand Mistress. Her hair is styled in a complicated updo that must have taken hours of careful structuring, and her hands are folded in the overflowing sleeves of her robes.

Her blank gaze is fixed ahead, but I have a feeling she can see everything.

The silence in the stadium as they approach its center is unsettling. Chancellor Vesper waves dismissively at the teams formed below and they immediately clear the area, heading toward their designated seats.

I spy Darian behind, moving at his own pace, like he has all the time in the world. My heart squeezes a little as I recall earlier this morning. I don’t let myself dwell on it. Thinking on his words will make them real.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

And they are not.

The ground under my feet moves a little and my eye is drawn to the centre where the the earth cleaves and from its depths, a stand emerges. It rises higher and higher, light glinting off the surface of it.

The surface that holds a sculpture like nothing I have seen before. It is one of the Moon Goddess and her wolves. In her hand, she holds the moon, which is shaped like a bowl, glowing with soft ethereal light. The wolves around her seem to hold the moon with her… or bear the weight of it with her.

Chancellor Vesper stops a couple of feet away from her, but the Grand Mistress stops right in front of it. Her hand rises to hover atop the bowl and her voice cuts across the stadium, raspy and ancient as she chants in a language I don’t understand.

The fine hair on my skin rises with each word that leaves her lips and I think pretty much everyone is affected because our breaths are held throughout her chanting.

And at the end of it, she stops suddenly and declares, “We have the Goddess’s blessings.”

Creep.

Hoots, shouts and claps arise all around us, and Chancellor Vesper walks to the bowl, taking her place in front of it as she walks away.

“Welcome to the much-awaited Annual Interschool Games. Today, our young and talented Lycans and Werewolves will compete against each other in various events. This is not just a competition, but also an opportunity to showcase their skills, determination, and sportsmanship.

“As we witness this friendly rivalry, I must remind you all that we are one community…”

I zone out in the middle of Vesper’s welcome speech, bored to death. I look over the crowd, trying to place where Maya’s at, but I can’t find her. There are too many faces to look past.

“Will you watch me play today? Will you cheer me on?”

I turn my gaze to Rune and I get caught in a sea of emerald, dark and mysterious. The depth of Rune’s eyes are unfathomable, almost like a bottomless pit, drawing me in with its alluring pool. Enchanting, I’d call them, if I was into complimenting men. “And where, pray tell, did you hit your head today, Rune? Shall I hit it again to reset it since you’ve obviously lost it?”

His eyes twinkle with amusement. “You wound me with your generosity.”

Just as Chancellor Vesper announcing the first event of the day, Rune stands from his throne, shrugging off his green jacket with stunning embroidery and golden threads. He dumps it in my lap and cooes, “When you begin to miss me, sniff it.”

I grab it and proceed to hurl it at his head, but my mother clears her throat sharply in silent warning.

I glare at Rune and my nostrils flare. He winks at me before walking off, hands dipped in his pockets. My eyes follow him until he descends the the steps and disappears into the crowd.

The Games kick off a few minutes later with the first event being “The Running of The Pack.”

It’s a relay race. Essentially. Two Reds and two Greens are set to run four laps around the stadium track, where four participants wait at each lap to take green or red staffs from them and continue on the race. The team with the fastest combined time earns twenty points. The scoreboard is currently on zero to zero.

At the shot of a rifle, they dash forward and my breath catches at the insane amount of speed with which the Greens run. The wolves are doing well themselves, but the lycans are better, leaving them behind to eat dust.

The screams and cheers are deafening and the screens zoom in on the figures as the cross the first lap in no time.

“DARIAN!!!” The crowd goes wild as he collects the green staff from the green before him and explodes down the track. I chuckle when the screen catches his face and the smug grin on it as he reaches the end of the second lap in no time and hands over to the third.

He is immediately swarmed by his team and they clap his shoulders, grinning from ear to ear, congratulating him. I clap, smiling, and for some reason, my face is immediately placed on the screen.

I freeze, hoping no one else saw that. Especially not my people.

“Friend of yours?” My father asks with a weird look on his face.

I am saved from answering when the screen switches again and noise swells from the other part of the stadium where the wolves are.

“THORNE!!!” They shout and my heart stops. Every thought eddies out of my head and I am on my feet before I know it, watching both the screens and the field below.

Thorne is here. I knew he would come, but I had doubts. Especially after what happened to Tara.

My eyes search for him. And then I find him, running, covering the distance in record time and speed that is on par with the lycans. Even better.

His hair is tousled by the wind and my heart leaps in my chest as I take in the sight of him. He is as handsome as I remember, his strong muscles rippling with each movement. His intense eyes are focused ahead, reminding me of a time when I was his main object of focus.

He moves so fluidly and gracefully, and my heart aches just from watching him. I need to talk to him, but it’d need to wait until the race is over.

I sit back in my chair and glance at my father, who seems pretty invested in the performance below. “Why bring Thorne?”

He shrugs, but grief flickers in his eyes. “He volunteered for this.”

“After his sister died? That doesn’t seem like Thorne.”

My father looks at me, and there is a grim, exhausted expression on his face. “This isn’t just about the Games, Astrid. We needed to observe the patterns and figure out why the deaths are occurring. The students selected from the Academy to participate each have ties to us royals and our predecessors. Thorne’s involvement is to help resolve this problem and ensure no one has to die again.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me, why?”

My father’s lips part, and closes. It is my mother who answers for him instead. “You are not mature enough to handle these things, Astrid, and you have shown that on so many occasions.”

The words reverberate in my mind and I struggle to comprehend it. Tension builds up within me and my fists clench and unclench by my side. “I’m… not mature enough?”

“Astrid, you have a lot going on–”

“And you don’t know the first thing about it. Any of it. What I have been through–fuck,” I say and shoot to my feet, staggering out of his reach when he tries to touch me. “Excuse me.”

“Astrid,” my father calls out and as I run down the steps, I hear my mother say, “Let her be. You need to stop cuddling her so she learns to accept truths. If she is to be queen someday, she should learn now.”

Accepting truths. There’s that statement I hate so much.

*********

Anxiety grips me and my breakfast has turned to lead in my stomach as I approach Thorne.

The race was a tie. Thorne’s performance gave WA a winning shot and the female who took the staff from him did just as good.

He is speaking to a couple of wolves, his team, and when they see me, they bow slightly, cutting Thorne off in his speech.

I nod imperceptibly and look at his strong, broad back. “Thorne.”

His shoulders tighten and my heart drops and rises again, continuing like that until I feel sick in my stomach.

He turns slowly and gazes at me squarely. Looking at him up close, I notice the fatigue lines under his eyes and how he looks leaner. Tired.

I run into his arms, embracing him tightly and sniffing his manly scent that’s mixed something sweet deeply. “I missed you, Thorne. I heard about Tara. I am so sorry.”

His hands grip my forearms weirdly and I ignore the lack of feel in his hug and bury my face in his chest. There is a scent on him. Feminine. I don’t think much of it since he’s been on the field all day, but it is strong enough that I can’t help but notice.

I pull back and peer into his face with a soft smile. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are silver-lined, filled with raw emotion. “How are you holding up?” My hand rises to cup his cheek. “I wished to speak to you everyday, but I couldn’t and–”

“Tee? I got your bottle…”

Thorne glances up and his hand rises to remove my hand from his cheek. I frown, pulling away and turning to see who and why he did that and it’s the woman who took the last lap on the race.

Her big brown eyes dart between me and Thorne and her eyes widen a little. What follows is a bright smile and a bow. “You’re Princess Astrid. Tee talks about you a lot.”

She shifts the blue bottle to her left hand and extends her right for a shake. “Hi. I’m Sapphire.”

I stare at her hand and look back at Thorne whose gaze is hooded and pained. “Who…” My voice trials off as a deeply rooted fear comes alive within me.

Thorne shifts uncomfortably beside me and walks over to where the woman stands, placing a hand over her shoulder. “Sapphire is my mate.”