Crescent (Book 1)

+ 25 +

Most of the time, going days without seeing Ceth is normal... It means I can get away with a routine: Breakfast with Moira and Nic in the mornings and then training until I'm spent. Lunch in the kitchen. An hour or two reading in the library or exploring the castle. More shifting. Then dinner- which is always in the library overlooking the surrounding fortress of snow and ice.

It isn't often that I see Ceth at all, but when I do, it's not without reason.

He's psychotic, I decide as I stare at him over dinner. There's no doubt he's handsome- with a charming mouth, two emerald eyes, and golden hair that gleams when he runs a hand through it. Handsome. But psychotic. There's a glittering ruby necklace in a diamond circlet setting at my setting when dinner is served. Beautiful. Just like many of the jewels Saren boasts of when she tells me stories of the vaults beneath White Stag. But unwanted.

It's been a week since I last saw him, and all I can see when I look at him is Laura's head between his hands. The ruby practically mocks me, red like blood as I pick at my food. He watches me, chin resting on his knuckles.

"It's been a week. The guards tell me you've been quiet," he says as if that changes anything. My fork drops to my plate with a clang. I swirl my wine, watching as the red tears fall down the sides of the glass. I pretend disinterest, boredom- I've perfected the façade already. He fists the tablecloth so hard his knuckles turn white. "Need I remind you of the part you have to play-"

"No one's here to see it," I snap. He doesn't expect it, but he isn't ready to fight with me yet. I'm practically daring him too. He knows why.

He splays his fingers flat against the table. "You defied me. Openly. In front of the enemy."

I nearly choke on my drink. So, that's what this is about. Not the blood on his hands or his guilty conscience. His face is so perfectly serious, and I laugh. The sound spills from my mouth uncontrollably. All he cares about is how he appears- the perfect high lord. The perfect vision of strength. A man to be feared.

"You're right," I admit. "I defied you. Tell me- do you think they're gonna tell someone?" I laugh again, the alcohol giving me the courage to continue. "They're dead, Ceth. You killed them. A girl and four men- dead."

The tablecloth looks ready to split into threads in his hands. He stands and that murderous look returns to his eyes as he rounds the table. "Killing them-"

"Has gotten you nowhere." I finish for him, and in a blink, he grips my jaw in his hands, pulling me from my seat. The glass shatters on the ground, wine spilling everywhere His hand is a noose around my neck, fingers iron brands on my jaw. My chest tightens as my breath escapes me in gasps, and Laura's face flashes in my mind. I hear her neck snap all over again. Fear hollows out a pit in my stomach, and I muffle a whine as his hot breath fans the side of my face.

"Killing them was a kindness," his breath reeks of alcohol as he hisses the words. His fingers press harder into my throat, burning, and my breathing becomes even more labored. "They'd been spying on White Stag for weeks. Weeks, Brenna. Mercy is never the option. Mercy... is weakness," he purrs.

Though his grip is ever-tightening, I manage a mocking smile. "You lost the upperhand, Lord Shawcross."

He frowns, releasing my neck and letting me slam against the table. He knows I'm right, and I hide a victorious smile as I wipe away his touch. My throat still screams in pain, my lungs still gasping for air. He turns his back to me and stares into the fire, watching the flames lick the stone walls. His hands fiddle with the metal stag atop the mantle, one among many other trinkets.

The spilled wine and glass shards are suddenly swept away by a phantom wind. The tablecloth straightens itself, and the chair I'd been sitting at pushes against the back of my legs, forcing me to sit again. The wood creaks when I try to push back, freezing me in place. A quill and inkwell splash at the table, and a scrap of parchment unfurls in front of me. Ceth's scowl is replaced by a smile, any trace of our previous conversation lost in smoke. "Do you know why we hold the galas?"

I remain silent, staring forward. There are many things the books don't mention. The gala, save for the formalities around it, remains elusive.

He continues despite. "They're a celebration of power. My father ruled when we last hosted, and he was a fool. A bumbling fool who knows nothing of what it takes to truly rule." A glass of liquor appears in his hand, ready to be sipped. "I won't let Vervale be made a fool of again." Hatred burns in his eyes, and he grips his glass until his knuckles turn white.

"That's why you need me," I say, the words bitter.

"Make no mistake," he chuckles, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he shakes his head. He takes a deep drag of his drink. "Need is not the word I'd use for you."

"What word then?" I challenge again, and my throat burns at the reminder of his rage. Maybe it's stupidity. Maybe it's the alcohol. Either way, I'm walking a fine line.

He glances at me as if debating whether or not to answer. He decides against it and leans across the table to set the stag at the corner of my paper. "There will be ten ambassadors in attendance, two from each realm." The page is still empty in front of me, the quill still set in its inkwell. "Are you writing any of this down?"

"Ten ambassadors- two representatives from each of the other five realms. You will represent your own court." He nods once, and I know I've done my job. "Did I miss anything?" my eyes float to the silver stag, a simple paperweight; a nod to the name of the estate.

"Yes, actually," he chides and rounds to my side of the table. I freeze when he leans down, his breath stirring the curls framing my face. "You, my sweet. You're in charge of planning the dinner. Nothing too formal. Dancing maybe. Drinks, of course."

"Of course."

"As for the gala, it will be a total of six nights. You can find each realm's banner hanging in the library. Moira will give you the rest of the information later." He leans down even further, pressing his grin against my cheek in a kiss. I do my best not to recoil. "There's much left to learn, but I think we both know the importance of keeping Vervale safe now, don't we?" He likely feels my itching desire to shove him away, but it's overwhelmed with the memory of Laura's lifeless eyes. "It's important not to show any sign of weakness- Especially when the ambassadors arrive."

The threat is clear enough: One wrong move and I'll meet the same end Laura did. I swallow the lump in my throat, and he grabs my hand, pinning it to the table to draw my attention. "I'll be gone for the next few days."

My eyes flicker toward him. He rarely tells me when he's leaving. "Looking into who sent the girl?" I can't say her name aloud.

His green eyes narrow slightly at the question. "I'd like the welcoming dinner to be planned before I get back." That means yes. His fingers brush over the back of my hand as his voice softens. "I have a surprise for you when I get back."

My heart leaps. "My family??"

"I have something else in mind."

The sound of footsteps approaching has both our heads turning. Ajax stands near one of the chairs, and he dips his head in greeting. "My lord. Whenever you're ready."

I stand, happy for the excuse to leave, but Ceth catches my arm as I turn. "It will be a full moon when I get back. Wear the dress, Brenna... Lest anything happen to your family."

I refuse to let my confusion show, tugging my arm away from him as he kisses my cheek. I'm left watching his back as strolls ahead of Ajax. It's as the library doors open that I let curiosity get the best of me. I call to him. "How did he die, Ceth? Your father."

I remember Moira telling me of Nicholas during my tour, but I hadn't heard anything of him since.

Ceth stalls at the threshold, and he stops to consider me carefully. Whatever he's looking for, I don't know. But a smile spreads across his face at what he finds. "I killed him."

It's the last thing he says before he walks away.