Destined for Disaster ✔️

Chapter 48

"Let's get you seated first." Julie got up and walked over to Ryleigh. Austin was still standing inert in front of her, looking as though he had lots of things to say but no means of saying them. Julie shot him a look, nodding towards his seat. Then she grasped Ryleigh's arm and led her away, putting her down on a chair beside her own. "Are you hungry?"

Ryleigh blinked, returning from whatever region of distraction she had gone to. "No. Thirsty, though. You'd think after nearly drowning, I'd have had enough to drink for a while, but clearly not." Her head shot up as Austin moved back to his chair. Every time he moved – every time he breathed – her attention was drawn towards him. And she didn't need to look to know his eyes were unwaveringly fixed on her. Her mark burned and she urged to touch it, but refrained.

"You smell like Austin," Carry said. "Ellis said the mark does that to you. Do you feel different? Austin says he feels different."

"Carry, shut up," Conall said. "This isn't a joyous occasion. She didn't want him to mate her, so leave her alone about it."

She scoffed. "You're just being nice because she took an arrow for you."

"Yes. I hope it'll wear off soon."

"Me too," Ryleigh said. "It's uncanny. O, thank you, Julie." She took the cup of tea that Julie offered her and clenched it in her cold hands. "I guess you all know who I am." She raised her eyes to glance around the table. "Full disclosure: I'm much better at lying than at telling the truth."

"O, we know," Julie said. "You've told us a pretty convincing lie. We all believed you were from Golden Dawn. You even got Ridge to help you."

"Yes. Sorry about that. I had my reasons to lie, as I'm sure you understand. You guys are so loyal to Alder you might as well start calling yourselves Royal Wolves." She let her gaze rest on Ellis. "Did you tell him yet?" Before he could answer, a breath escaped her. "No, you haven't. Good."

"How did you –"

"Magic, of course. But before I get into that, I should tell you the truth." She took a sip of tea and studied the tablecloth. Silence hushed over the table. She put down her cup and chewed the inside of her cheek. "I don't know where to begin."

"Let's start with how by the Goddess you're alive," Conall said.

Ryleigh sat back in her chair. "I suppose that's as good a place to begin as any. Fourteen years ago, the Royal Wolves attacked my pack. I was eleven at the time. We didn't see it coming. Or not in time, anyway. But even if he we had, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. There were too many of them. There were a few hundred of us; the Royal Wolves' army counted thousands. They call it the Shadow Walker battle, but it wasn't a battle. It was a massacre."

She rose from her chair unexpectedly and moved over to the window, pushing one of the heavy curtains further aside. It was a beautiful morning. Birds were singing. That night – that long, dark night so long ago – all the birds had fled.

"It was stormy, that night. I remember the wind. It was the middle of the night when it started." Her fingers found the windowsill for support. She had never told the story to anyone not sharing her blood – people who, even if they hadn't been there, understood the tragedy. People who shared her rage, her pain, her loss. These people, even if they had the compassion to understand, didn't have the background, didn't have the scope of understanding necessary to fathom what had occurred that night. 

"Our pack's centre was near a river. There was a bridge across it, and not many soldiers on the other side. I told my little sister to run. I was going to let her cross the bridge and burn it down after her, so that at least she might survive. After that, I was going to return to the battle and die honourably. That was the plan, at least. When my sister reached the bridge, I saw a soldier getting ready to shoot her. I guess I have a history of taking arrows for people. I jumped in front of her. The arrow hit me right in the shoulder." Her hand travelled up to her right shoulder, tracing the raised scars through her shirt.