Rejected By The Prince, Hunted By The Lycan

ey Oliv

door of the pavilion, shoving their bare, shivering bod

the time anyone found them, the morning frost would have chilled them to the bone, but the

ruined bedroom,

veling cloak the original owner possessed. It was coarse, faded wool, but the hood w

looking the western gardens, slipp

t my lungs with a

guards carrying pine torches. I had spent all my past on this estate, frightened and in hiding; my newly awa

tood beneath the north

h iron spikes designed to deter rogue wolves. For a wolfless gir

ces, took a deep breat

atching the cold lip of the masonry with both hands. My shoulders screamed in protest under my

y on the other side, I landed in a tig

ee

ning peat, horse manure, and th

w and began navigating the winding, laby

he royal pack and noble lords, and the sprawling underbelly known as the Black Market district, w

ley where cracked lanterns cast sickl

e passage, their owners watching the shadows with

he lane. A single oil lamp hung above a reinforced iron counter, beh

king up from his ledger. "Outright sale is thi

em I had hidden: a teardrop-shaped pendant carved from pale

ter, keeping my gloved fingers

only," I said, pitchin

ined fingers, squinting with his good eye. A g

er," he lied smoothly, tossing it carelessly onto the

ed faster than hi

e inches deep into the oak counter, the blade humming as it pinned t

is breath catchi

w of my hood completely swallowed his vision. "If you short me a single

mple. He recognized the cold, unhesitating sc

it is," he

the counter with trembling fingers, co

ed the dagger from the wood with the other, and vanished i

to an old clothing stall run

de of rough gray wool, heavy leather riding breeches, a sturdy p

the stall's curtained backroom

ean as an adolescent boy's. I pulled on the loose tunic, tucked the heavy trousers into the boots, and tied my

purchased from a street hawker. It smelled sharply of cedar, sulfur, and cru

t weapon. This pungent wash completely masked my natural scent, leaving

om and caught my reflection

k and guarded, carrying himself with the dangero

ow, he would never recognize this ragged boy as the f

out a sharp,

eter wall had completely drained this frail body's reserves. My blood

road avenue at the

story timber tavern bathed in crimson lantern light. A carved wooden sign depicting a snar

the rich, mouth-watering aroma of roasted b

t place to buy a hot meal and listen to the kin

nto my pocket to grip the cold hilt of m