The knock was sharp and efficient.
The scent reached her before the tray did, warm broth, roasted root vegetables, and a wedge of soft cheese still glistening at the edges. Aria looked up, startled, as Neris swept into the room carrying the meal herself.
"I'm tired of watching you gnaw stale bread like a mouse," Neris said simply, setting the tray down on the small table beside the hearth. "Eat something real."
Aria blinked. "You brought this?"
Neris didn't answer. Instead, she adjusted the tray and stood back with her arms crossed, eyes cool as ever.
Aria smiled faintly and picked up the spoon. "Thank you," she said, softly but sincerely.
Neris gave a small nod. "What would you like tomorrow?"
Aria looked up in surprise. "You're asking me?"
"You're not livestock. It's allowed."
She laughed under her breath. "Well, in that case… Is there a market nearby? Maybe I could go with someone and choose something fresh. Fruits, or..."
"No." Neris cut her off, voice firm. "You can't go out."
Aria blinked. "Why not?"
"It's not safe."
"That's nonsense," Aria said, pushing the tray aside slightly. "I'm not a prisoner."
"No," Neris agreed, her tone sharp as frost. "You're not. But you're not from here. You don't know what prowls the edges of this place, nor who would notice you if you wandered where you shouldn't."
Aria straightened slowly. "So I'm kept locked inside for my own good?"
"You're kept alive," Neris said, and for a moment something hard flickered in her gaze. "That's the only kind of mercy this place knows."
Aria broke a piece of bread and dipped it into the broth, her thoughts still circling the idea of town streets and open sky. "If I can't go alone," she said, "then maybe someone could go with me. One of the guards. Or…"
Neris, already halfway to the door, paused with a sigh. "I'll ask the king's Beta."
Aria's brow lifted. "The king has a Beta?"
Neris turned, her look unreadable. "This is a castle. Not a bakery. Of course there's a second in command."
Aria blinked, caught off guard. "Right. I just… I didn't know."
"His name's Dain," Neris said dryly. "He's not fond of errands, but I'll ask."
"And if he says no?"
"Then you'll eat whatever I bring you and stay inside like a good girl," Neris muttered as she turned to go. "Try not to annoy him. He's less forgiving than I am."
She closed the door behind her without another word, leaving Aria staring at the tray.
Dain.
So the Beast King did have a second. How many others were in this castle, she wondered, and why did it always feel so empty.
....
The castle's east wing was far warmer than the rest. The kind of warmth born not from firewood, but from wine, skin, and noise.
Laughter echoed down the hall like a sin.
Inside a chamber of stone and fur throws, Dain lay sprawled across a massive bed, shirt half undone, a silver ring glinting on his finger as he raised a goblet to his lips.
Dain was broad-shouldered and carelessly handsome, with a crooked grin that made trouble feel like a promise. There was mischief in his eyes, strength in his stride, and a kind of rough charm that lingered like smoke long after he was gone. The red wine inside caught the firelight like spilled blood. One girl lounged against his side, her hair a wild tangle of curls and silver beads, while the other traced a claw along the line of his throat, playful and possessive.
They were both wolfkind, the shimmer of their shifting blood visible in their amber eyes and sharp, teasing grins. One of them had bite marks on her collarbone. The other was purring like a cat in heat.
"I thought Lycans were supposed to be deadly," one murmured in his ear. "You're just lazy and pretty."
Dain chuckled, deep and unbothered, his arm flexing behind his head. "Deadly gets dull without the reward."
"Mm," the other said, nipping at his jaw. "And what do you think we are, commander?"
He grinned. "My well-earned reward."
Just then, the door creaked open.
The scent hit first, cool air and mild disapproval, and Dain sighed before even turning his head. "Neris."
She stood just inside the doorway, her arms folded, her expression pure frost. "You reek of trouble."
"I reek of wine and victory," he said, not bothering to rise. "Which would you like to discuss?"
"One of your victories needs an escort."
That caught his attention.
He sat up slowly, pushing the girls aside with a lazy ease. "Victory, you say?"
Neris's lips thinned. "The girl. The guest. She wants to go to the market."
Dain raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"She asked. I said I'd ask you."
He tilted his head, eyeing her. "Does the king know?"
"Would I be here if he did?"
He barked a short laugh. "Fair enough."
The wolf girls shifted, clearly annoyed at the interruption. One rolled her eyes and reached for the wine. The other curled back into the pillows.
Dain swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching with a groan. Muscles rippled beneath inked skin. He reached for a leather vest thrown across the chair.
"Tell the girl," he said as he fastened the buckles, "if she wants to see the town, she can come at dawn. I don't hold hands, I don't carry cloaks, and if she faints, she stays behind."
Neris nodded once, turning to go.
"And Neris?"
She paused.
He smirked. "Tell her not to wear anything too soft. Some things in town bite."
Dain watched Neris go, her cloak vanishing down the corridor like a scolding breeze. He ran a hand through his hair, then turned back toward the bed.
The girls hadn't moved far. One was still sipping from his goblet, the other sprawled across his pillows like a cat in heat. He climbed back into the warm tangle of limbs and furs, but his thoughts didn't follow.
The king. The girl.
Betrothed.
Dain had seen the way his brother looked at her. Damon wasn't the type to stare, but when he did, it was like something inside him was weighing, measuring, resisting. That woman would either save the king or ruin him. Maybe both.
"Something on your mind, commander?" one of the girls purred, brushing her lips along his jaw.
"Nothing worth naming," he murmured.
She laughed and climbed over him, her hair spilling across his chest. The other slid closer, eyes glittering.
As one of them licked the shell of his ear, Dain let out a low sound of pleasure and turned toward her with a slow, wicked smile.
He wasn't the king. He didn't need to resist anything.
Not tonight.