She Who Hunts Alphas

The stranger flicked open the lighter.

A yellow flame shivered between us.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked.

"Long enough."

He snapped the lid shut, tossed the lighter, and caught it again. Silver thread edged his collar, marking him as highborn, but there was no family pin at his throat. He wore his privilege carelessly, as if he had grown bored of it.

"Long enough to see a powerless human wake a sealed relic," he continued. "That should be impossible."

I wiped my hands on my torn pants. "Then you saw something else."

"I saw a first-era altar light up like dawn. I saw your wounds close. I saw a mark that has not answered anyone in three centuries."

"You should get your eyes checked."

His mouth curved. "Rhys Calder."

"I didn't ask."

"No, but you'll want to know who keeps your secret."

He pushed away from the tree and came toward me. He was leaner than Cassian, less controlled, but the ease in his stride carried its own warning. Smoke and rain clung to his jacket.

I stepped between him and the stone.

"There is no secret."

"Your palms were shredded ten seconds ago."

I folded my arms. "Fast healer."

"Humans do not heal like wolves. Wolves do not heal like that either."

"Maybe your textbooks are wrong."

"Maybe your records are lies."

The words landed harder than I wanted them to.

Rhys noticed.

"Who were your parents?" he asked.

"Dead, missing, or smart enough not to claim me. Take your pick."

"Where were you found?"

"An alley in Lowtown."

"How old?"

"Old enough to bite the constable who tried to drag me out."

"That explains the personality."

I turned toward the academy path.

Rhys moved before I took a second step.

One moment he stood beside the altar. The next he blocked the trail, one hand braced against a tree.

"We're not finished."

"I am."

"Cassian sent me to see whether his punishment had killed you. Instead, I found you bleeding into a relic no one is supposed to know exists. So forgive me if I need more than sarcasm."

"You can tell Cassian I cleared his pit."

"And the red fire?"

"Tell him whatever helps you sleep."

I tried to pass.

Rhys caught my shoulder and shoved me backward.

My spine struck the granite tablet. The carved wolf pressed between my shoulder blades. Rhys stepped close, planting his palm against the stone beside my head.

"Try again," he said. "What did you do?"

"I touched it."

"With what spell?"

"I don't know any spells."

"What bloodline?"

"None."

"No one has none."

"I do."

He studied my face, looking for something I did not know how to hide.

"Cassian carved that scar," he said.

"Your powers of observation are breathtaking."

"He does not mark people without a reason."

"He wanted me to kneel. I didn't. That's the reason."

Rhys's gaze sharpened. "And today you burned him."

"He grabbed me."

"Cassian Thorne does not let people touch him, much less hurt him. Yet he claimed you in front of the entire academy instead of having you executed."

I remembered the shock in Cassian's eyes.

"Maybe he's losing his edge."

"Maybe he recognized the mark."

The idea tightened something in my stomach.

"Move," I said.

Rhys lifted the lighter again. His thumb rolled over the wheel.

Flame bloomed.

"Tell me what you felt when the altar woke."

"Put that away."

"Heat? A voice? A memory that wasn't yours?"

He brought the flame closer.

"Back off, Rhys."

"One honest answer."

The fire hovered inches from my face.

He was testing me. Maybe threatening me. At Lunaris, the difference was mostly decorative.

"The truth is I don't know," I said. "I touched a stone. It lit up. My hand healed. That's all."

"Wrong answer."

He angled the lighter toward my hair.

The thing beneath my ribs woke.

Heat slammed through my chest and down my right arm. My healed bones vibrated. The carved wolf behind me seemed to pulse against my spine.

Rhys saw the change in my face.

His smile disappeared.

"Violet-"

I struck his wrist.

Crimson light exploded from my palm.

It swallowed the lighter's flame, melted the top of the silver case, and lashed across the side of Rhys's head. The force threw him backward. He hit the mud hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

The ruined lighter spun across the ground and struck the altar.

The sharp smell of scorched metal filled the clearing.

I stared at my hand.

Soot blackened my palm, but the skin beneath it had not blistered. The power hummed there, eager and alive.

Rhys pushed himself onto one elbow.

A lock of his red hair had burned black at the ends. He touched it, watched ash crumble across his fingers, and looked at me with none of his earlier amusement.

"I warned you," I said.

He did not answer.

For several seconds, the only sound came from our breathing and the distant caw of ravens.

Then Rhys looked past me at the ancient altar.

"That was not wolf magic," he said.

"Good. I'm not a wolf."

"It was not human either."

I curled my fingers into a fist.

Rhys rose slowly, keeping his eyes on the red glow fading beneath my skin.

"Whatever the council told you about who you are," he said, "they lied."

A deep metallic bell rang from the academy.

The sound rolled over the ridge and shook the branches above us.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Rhys went still.

"What is that?" I asked.

He closed the ruined lighter in his hand.

"Trouble," he said. "And for once, it may be worse than you."