Octavia’s POV
The days after my encounter with the wolf stretched into a week of careful observation and growing unease.
The stories about Prince Darius haunted my nightmares. Servants whispered of villagers found torn apart in the woods, their bodies arranged like twisted offerings. They said his red eyes could be seen glowing from the forest even on moonless nights, that his howls drove men mad with terror. The Beast Prince, they called him—a creature who had devoured his own mother in a fit of rage, who kept the bones of his enemies as trophies in his chambers.
"He eats the hearts of unfaithful wives," one kitchen maid had whispered when she thought no one was listening. "And he can smell lies on a woman's breath.”
I no longer moved through the castle in ignorance, now I watched, listened, catalogued every detail that might reveal more about the man I had married and the creature he became. Darius disappeared three more times that week.
I began to track his absences, noting how they aligned with the moon's phases, how the servants grew quiet and tense when evening shadows lengthened across the courtyard. The guards changed shifts more frequently after sunset, their hands never straying far from their sword hilts.
My fear had transformed into something sharper, not terror, but a gnawing need to understand. Questions multiplied in my mind like weeds, but I couldn't ask them directly, not yet.
Instead, I became a student of silence, learning to read the things no one would say aloud.
On the seventh night, Darius didn't return until well past dawn. I was already awake when I heard his footsteps in the corridor, slow and uneven like those of a man carrying a heavy burden.
When he appeared at breakfast an hour later, the evidence of his night was written across his body. His eyes were sunken deep in their sockets, ringed with shadows that spoke of exhaustion or pain, or both.
His right hand bore fresh scratches across the knuckles, and when he reached for his wine goblet, I caught sight of deeper wounds along his forearm before his sleeve fell back into place.
"Rough night?" I asked carefully, testing the waters.
Darius glanced up from his untouched plate, those dark eyes studying my face for a moment before he looked away. "The outer provinces require constant attention."
It wasn't an answer, and we both knew it. But something in his expression warned me not to press further. Instead, I ate my breakfast in the familiar silence that had become our morning ritual, filing away every detail for later consideration.
After the meal, as I rose to leave, Darius spoke again. "Octavia."
I paused, one hand on the back of my chair. "Yes?"
"You are not to leave the castle walls without my permission." His tone was firm but not harsh, carrying the weight of absolute authority. "This is not a request."
Heat flashed through me at his presumption. "I beg your pardon?"
"There have been disturbances in the woods," he continued, his gaze steady on mine. "People have gone missing from the outlying villages. Wild animals, the guards believe. It's not safe for you to wander alone."
I wanted to argue, to rail against yet another man trying to cage me with rules and restrictions. But something in his voice gave me pause.
This wasn't the commanding tone of a husband asserting dominance over his wife. This was the careful warning of a man who knew exactly what danger lurked in those dark trees.
"What kind of disturbances?" I asked. Darius was quiet for a long moment, his scarred hand closing into a fist on the table.
"The kind that hunts at night," he said finally. "The kind that leaves nothing but blood and ripped flesh behind."
The truth sat between us, unspoken but understood. He wasn't warning me about wild animals in the forest. He was warning me about himself, about whatever he became when darkness fell and the beast in his blood took control.
"I understand," I said quietly. Relief flickered across his features, so brief I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching so carefully.
"Good. The castle has extensive grounds. You'll find plenty to occupy yourself within the walls."
But as the days passed, those walls began to feel less like protection and more like a prison. I obeyed his command, I had little choice, but the restriction left me restless, prowling the corridors like a caged animal seeking escape.
I discovered forgotten corners of the castle I had never seen before, narrow staircases that led to abandoned towers, chambers filled with dust-covered furniture and faded tapestries. I lingered near doorways and alcoves, learning to blend into shadows so I could listen to the servants' whispered conversations.
"Another one found this morning," I heard a stable hand tell the blacksmith. "What was left of him, anyway..."
"Same marks as the others?" the blacksmith asked, his hammer pausing mid-strike.
"Worse. Like something with claws the size of daggers got hold of him." I pressed closer to the wall, my heart hammering as they continued their grim discussion.
"You think it's really just wild wolves?" the stable hand asked.
The blacksmith glanced around nervously before answering. "Wolves don't hunt like that. Wolves don't tear a man apart and leave him laid out like an offering."
Their voices dropped too low for me to catch the rest, but I had heard enough. Whatever was killing people in the forest, it wasn't acting like any normal predator. And from the way the castle guards jumped at every howl that echoed from the tree line after sunset, they knew it too.
I began to study Darius with new eyes during our silent meals. The way he barely touched his food, pushing meat around his plate as if the sight of it disturbed him. How he kept his right hand clenched shut, knuckles white with tension, like he was fighting against his own body's impulses.
He never touched me anymore, not since our wedding night. He avoided even casual contact, stepping aside when I passed him in corridors, keeping his distance during the few conversations we managed.
In the days that followed, Darius's unexpected gentleness only deepened my confusion. I would wake to find a tray of warm bread and honey beside my bed, foods I had mentioned liking during our stilted dinner conversations. When I caught a chill from walking in the gardens, medicinal tea appeared at my bedside without explanation.
Yet he maintained his distance, speaking to me with unfailing courtesy but never warmth. As if kindness was a duty he performed rather than a feeling he harbored. I had thought it was because he found me lacking, because our marriage was nothing more than political necessity. Now I wondered if it was something else entirely.
Every night, as I lay in my bed listening to the sounds of the castle settling around me, I felt it, a presence moving beyond the walls, something wild and dangerous prowling the darkness. Sometimes I heard howls that seemed too close, too intelligent, too full of anguish to belong to any ordinary wolf.
And sometimes, in those moments between sleep and waking, I imagined I could feel eyes watching my window. Red eyes that burned like coals in the darkness, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle with awareness.
I was beginning to understand the truth that no one would speak aloud. Darius wasn't hiding from me during those long nights when he disappeared.
He was hiding me from the monster he became, protecting me from the beast he couldn't always control.