Sylra's POV
Dawn broke cold and gray as the hunting party gathered in the palace courtyard.
Horses stamped and snorted, their breath misting in the early chill. Nobles adjusted their riding leathers and checked their weapons, voices low with anticipation. The ceremonial hunt was tradition—a test of the heir's strength before coronation. Every alpha in attendance would ride, would witness, would judge.
I mounted my horse, a black mare with intelligent eyes, and settled into the saddle. Caelen brought his mount alongside mine, close enough that our knees nearly touched.
"Stay alert," he murmured. "Something doesn't feel right."
"You've said that three times since we left my chambers."
"And I'll say it again." His gray eyes swept the assembled riders. "Lady Vela looks too calm. No one planning simple observation wears that expression."
I followed his gaze to where the Blackmaw delegation waited at the edge of the courtyard. Lady Vela sat rigid in her saddle, her face arranged into pleasant neutrality. Beside her, Neressa adjusted her gloves with studied nonchalance. Elene's crimson riding habit stood out against the muted colors around her, and her smile held an edge that made my skin prickle.
Rovan rode apart from them, his eyes already fixed on me. He hadn't looked away since I'd emerged from the palace.
"The hunt begins!" The Master of Ceremonies raised his horn and blew a single, piercing note. "May the Moon Goddess bless our Princess and guide her blade!"
We rode.
The forest swallowed us within minutes, ancient trees closing ranks behind the procession. I led the column with Caelen at my right flank, my spine straight, my expression composed. The weight of watching eyes pressed against my back.
Hoofbeats drew closer on my left. Rovan maneuvered his horse alongside mine, ignoring the glare Caelen threw in his direction.
"You ride well," Rovan said. "I remember teaching you, back when you first came to Blackmaw."
"I remember learning despite you, not because of you."
His jaw tightened. "Sylra—"
Caelen leaned toward me, his voice pitched low. "The western ridge offers better ground for the first hunt. We should redirect the party."
I nodded, turning to issue the order. From the corner of my eye, I caught Rovan's hands clenching on his reins, his knuckles going white beneath his riding gloves. His gaze burned into the space where Caelen's shoulder nearly brushed mine.
We rode deeper into the forest. The hunting groups began to spread out, nobles peeling away in smaller parties to pursue their own quarry. I watched Lady Vela and Neressa drift toward the rear of the column, their heads bent close in conversation. Elene rode beside them, that sharp smile never wavering.
They were waiting for something. I could feel it in my bones.
"This way." Caelen guided us toward a clearing where pale sunlight filtered through the canopy. "We'll have better visibility here."
I reined my horse to a stop at the clearing's edge. The other riders had dispersed—I could hear distant hoofbeats and hunting calls echoing through the trees, but here, in this small pocket of space, we were alone.
Too alone.
"Caelen." My voice came out steady despite the chill crawling up my spine. "Do you hear that?"
He went still, head tilted. "I don't hear anything."
"Exactly."
The forest had gone silent. No birdsong. No rustle of small creatures in the underbrush. No insects humming in the cold morning air. The trees stood motionless, the world holding its breath.
I inhaled slowly, testing the air. Beneath the familiar scents of pine and frost, something else lingered. Something wrong.
"Wolves," I breathed. "I smell unfamiliar wolves."
Caelen's sword cleared its sheath in one fluid motion. "How many?"
"I can't tell. Multiple. They're masking their—"
"DOWN!"
He slammed into me, knocking us both from our horses as arrows shrieked through the space where my head had been. We hit the ground hard, rolling apart, and I came up with my sword already in hand.
The trees erupted with movement.
They came from every direction—figures in black leather, faces covered, weapons gleaming. No pack markings. No colors. No identification of any kind. They moved with coordinated precision, spreading to surround us, cutting off every escape route.
Professionals. The word flashed through my mind as the first attacker reached me. I parried his strike, steel screaming against steel, and drove my elbow into his throat. He staggered, and I opened his chest with a slash that sent him crumpling to the forest floor.
"Sylra, behind you!"
I spun, blade catching the sword aimed at my spine. The impact jarred up my arms, but I held, shoving the assassin back, creating space. Another arrow whistled past my ear. Another attacker lunged from my left.
Caelen fought three feet away, his movements brutal and efficient. Bodies dropped around him with mechanical regularity. But more kept coming, emerging from the shadows, an endless tide of black-clad killers.
The same craftsmanship. The arrows had the same black fletching as the ones from the training yard attack. The same people who had tried to kill me before were trying again.
"There are too many!" I parried another blow, then another. My arms burned. My breath came in ragged gasps. "We need to fall back!"
"Fall back where?" Caelen cut down two attackers with a single sweeping strike. "They've surrounded us!"
An assassin's blade sliced across my upper arm. Pain flared, hot and sharp, and blood soaked into my sleeve. I killed him before he could press the advantage, but another took his place immediately.
I couldn't count them anymore. Couldn't track the individual threats. There was only the endless clash of steel, the spray of blood, the desperate rhythm of survival.
A scream pierced the chaos—one of the attackers, falling to Caelen's blade. In the momentary gap, I saw movement at the clearing's edge. Lady Vela, watching from horseback between the trees. Neressa beside her. Elene.
They weren't hiding their presence. They wanted me to see them. Wanted me to know who had orchestrated this.
Something whistled through the air.
I turned, sword raised to deflect, but I was too slow. The arrow was already flying, already crossing the distance between us, its black fletching spinning in the pale morning light.
I saw it coming. Knew I couldn't dodge. I knew I couldn't block.
The arrow flew straight toward my heart.