Chapter 2: Traitor

Remilia's POV.

Where did you get that?”, he growled. His voice overlapped with a deeper, hoarser one. That of his wolf. 

I settled into my stance against him. “It doesn’t matter, Eryndor. Stop what you’re doing now.” “Give it to me. Now.”

I wasn’t scared to use it and I knew he could see that, but he came at me anyway. I should’ve been able to defend more easily, should have been able to match him more easily. 

But the truth was that my desire for truth held no candle to the evil desperation of a power hungry man. 

He moved with practiced speed and grace, dodging each one of my attacks and still managing to get in hits despite my having the superior – and only – weapon. I knew it was over when as the blade sliced across his face, he leaned in, instead of backing away. In a flash, a stunning blow cracked against my skull, blackening my vision and sending me slumping. My fingers loosened against NightSword and it clattered away from me. 

Eryndor’s eyes were dilated, his canines dripping saliva as he dove for the sword, picking it up with a feral grin. He raised it above my head as I watched in horror. NO!, NightSword screamed in my head, in protest at being wielded by one not bonded to him. My ears popped and my vision was lost again as a powerful sonic blast emerged from the ancient weapon, a beam of energy spiraling outwards and slamming into Eryndor. 

Eryndor slammed into a tree, a sharp crack sounding from the trunk of the large tree. The sword fell to the floor, pulsing dimly with energy. I forced myself up, staggering to my feet and hurrying towards the length of metal. That blast had been loud. I knew the pack guards would be racing to investigate very quickly. 

Eryndor’s motionless body led me to believe he was unconscious…or worse. “Did you hurt him?”, I asked in my head. “He’s just stunned.” The sword pulsed comfortingly as I scooped it up.

Eryndor stirred, and wasting a split second, I checked to see the extent of his wounds. He was bleeding from gashes in his arm and face, and his nose dripped blood. His eyes fluttered open, immediately falling on me. A dozen approaching footsteps alerted me to the danger I was in and I turned to run, dismissing NightSword and letting it vanish to dark mist. 

I was surrounded before I’d run three paces. A bulky guard helped his bleeding alpha to his feet, supporting him with his arm. With a furious glare, Eryndor gave the order to have me arrested. 

The guards closed in on me, gripping my arms painfully and clapping irons on them as I was dragged in the direction of the dungeons. I dug in my feet stubbornly as I struggled. 

“Wait!”, I pleaded. “I didn’t do anything! Your Alpha’s selling you out! Selling the whole pack out!”

“A likely story”, one of the guards dragging me away sneered, hands like steel bands around me. 

“Gag her”, Eryndor snapped angrily as I continued to yell, a pensive expression on his face. Oddly, as he glared at me, his face looked…betrayed. It had barely been six hours since he’d left our bed that morning. I was shocked at how so much could change. We had exchanged kisses and now, I was being pulled none too gently to the dungeons

. 

One of the guards pushed the thick door to the underground prison open and I was unceremoniously dragged in. Eryndor must’ve given explicit direction before leaving my party because the two guards holding me captive pulled me along to one of the very worst, windowless cells at the back. It was more like a tiny cave than anything and my heart pounded as they keyed the bars open. 

An unceremonious shove at my back threw me into the cage and I landed on my hands and knees. The floor was unpaved – just packed dirt, really – and slightly damp. A pungent odor from the side of the tiny space had me trying not to gag as I crawled around, darting towards the rapidly closing cell door. The guard slammed it shut with a sneer at me and I gripped the bars and shook. “Let me out!”, I raged.. 

I was ignored as the men left, one staying behind to stand guard at the door. “Let me out!”, I screamed again, feeling the start of tears sting my eyelids. “Let me out, please.” 

My screams soon subsided into quiet sobs as I let go of the bars and huddled into a corner, thinking of all the ways things could’ve gone differently if I’d been smarter with the way I acted. Eryndor’s expression when he’d admitted to what he’d done was like a knife to my chest. How could I have been so wrong in reading someone? All my expectations…

I shut my mind against the implications of what that meant for me, instead focusing on what I needed to do.

Forcing back my sniffles, I piped my nose against the back of my shirt and tried to surreptitiously study the bars of my cage. The guard looked in on me and I worked at looking suitably pitiful. A second later, I was left to myself and I scooted closer to study the rusted iron lock of the door. It probably wasn’t strong enough to withstand a great deal of force. One good hit and I would be free. The only problem was what I would use to hit it.

I couldn’t draw NightSword. Not only was the sword’s legend so tightly woven with both fact and fiction, it was said to belong only to rightful alphas of the packs. It had been passed down from dynasty to dynasty, making its way safely from father to son until it was lost almost five hundred years ago. A while back, I would’ve called the Sword’s tale make-believe. Not now. Not when I found and bonded it.