Chapter 5 THE KING BLEEDS

I woke with a jolt.

Pain was no longer just a memory. It was stitched into my bones, thrumming like a silent drumbeat as I stirred awake. A bitter taste lingered on my tongue, iron and ash, and my skin was damp with fevered sweat.

The bed beneath me felt too soft for safety. I blinked at the torchlight, disoriented. I hadn't died. That much I knew. The mark was still there, searing faintly against my neck. A reminder. A tether. A curse I hadn't asked for.

Alive, but I was still here.

Ivara hovered nearby, adjusting herbs in a shallow bowl. She didn't speak, only glanced at me, then turned away again. It was a quiet sort of disappointment, and somehow worse than anger.

After she left, I sat up, wincing at the sharp tug of my wound.

My mind reeled from the vision I had seen, Maddox in agony, brought to his knees by something unseen, something tearing him apart from the inside.

The echo of his pain still pulsed inside me like a bruise beneath the skin.

I needed space to breathe and think.

I slipped out of the chamber, walking slowly, carefully. The fortress was quiet, torches low, casting flickering shadows along stone corridors.

No guards stopped me. No one dared. The mark on my neck pulsed, faint but insistent, like a tether I couldn't sever.

Then I heard it, a crash. Metal striking stone. Grunts and the tearing of flesh. Another crash.

Curiosity pulled me forward, down a narrow hall that opened into the training courtyard. The air smelled of sweat and blood. And there was a presence of a small crowd.

Maddox stood at the centre, shirtless, breath heaving, sparring with three of his warriors. His chest was slick with sweat, a long scar running over his ribs, and his left arm bled freely from a fresh gash. But he didn't stop.

He moved like a storm, ruthless, deliberate, and utterly in control.

Until he wasn't.

One of the rogues, the taller one with the jagged scar across his jaw, lunged low, aiming a swipe at Maddox's knees.

Maddox twisted midair, avoiding the blow, but not the second rogue's elbow that smashed into his ribs. Bone cracked.

He grunted, staggered, but instead of yielding, he growled deep in his chest, a sound not entirely human.

The third attacker came in fast, blades flashing silver under the moonlight. Maddox caught one blade with his bare hand. Blood splattered. He didn't flinch.

With an animalistic roar, he twisted the blade out of the rogue's grip and sent him flying into the dirt.

Something shifted in him then, visibly. His pupils dilated, going pitch black. His spine arched unnaturally, as if something ancient surged forward. His muscles stretched, bones cracking beneath skin.

Fur began to spread down his shoulders, thick and midnight-dark, and claws erupted from his fingers.

"Shift back!" one of the rogues shouted, backing away. "Alpha, control it!"

But Maddox was too far gone.

He lunged at the nearest attacker, tackling him hard into the arena wall. The rogue yelped. Maddox's fangs gleamed as he snapped his jaws inches from the man's throat.

I watched, frozen, heart hammering. This wasn't the same cold and composed Maddox who had stared down death in silence.

This was something darker. Wilder.

"Alpha!" Tarek's voice echoed from somewhere beyond the yard. "Enough!"

The third rogue, barely standing, held his bleeding arm and dared a step forward. "He's going feral again," he whispered. "Get her. She's the only one who can..."

Before he could finish, Maddox snarled and spun, hackles raised, claws digging into the stone. His glowing gold eyes met mine.

Recognition. A tremor ran through him. His breath hitched.

He took one step toward me, still half-shifted, then another.

"Maddox," I said softly, unsure why I even dared.

He stilled. For a moment, the storm within him paused.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, the fur receded. Bones cracked back into place. The beast retreated.

He collapsed to one knee, panting, covered in blood, some his, some not.

That's when I rushed forward. Dropping to my knees, my instincts betraying me completely.

Blood pooled beneath his ribs. I tore a strip from my sleeve and pressed it to the wound.

"You're bleeding like a mortal," I said.

He grunted, eyes locked on mine. "Even kings bleed." Our hands brushed. His jaw clenched.

"I didn't ask for the bond either," he muttered. The words struck deeper than I expected. I pulled back. "Then why didn't you let me die?"

He didn't answer. I stood, shoving the bloodied cloth at him. "Don't expect me to feel grateful."

He wiped his side without looking at me. I turned and left before I did something stupid. Like care.

I walked aimlessly after that, heart pounding for reasons I didn't want to name. My steps took me past the great hall, then around to a quieter wing of the fortress. I was about to turn back when I heard voices.

Low. Urgent. I crept closer, keeping to the shadows. A door stood slightly ajar.

Tarek's voice came first. "She's going to be a problem."

Another voice, deeper, older. "She's already a problem. That mark's going to tear him apart."

My blood chilled.

"If she gets too close to the truth," Tarek said, his voice colder now, "we won't need Maddox's order to handle it."

There was a pause. Then the older voice spoke again, quieter but deadlier. "If he hesitates... we finish it ourselves. Maddox is slipping. She's the weakness we've been waiting for."

"She's inside the walls, Tarek. In his chamber. In his head. If we don't move soon, it'll be too late."

My fingers curled around the edge of the stone wall, knuckles white. They weren't worried about me surviving. They were worried about me existing.

I backed away slowly with my breath caught in my throat. They weren't just watching me. They were planning something.

And if I didn't figure out what. I might not survive long enough to regret it.