I'm alone now.

 I awake in my room, sweating with fever from the stress and running in the chill of the falling sun the night before. My chest heaves as I stare at the ceiling, my bedding tossed and clawed like a wild animal had been caged here. There was no rest for my mental state; I was entirely aware of what had landed me in this room once more. 

He's dead; he must be. Taryek had been adamant that it was his intention. 

There's no reason to keep me around anymore, no Alpha to protect me, no one to claim my worth. 

Why?

Why hadn't he fought back? Why hadn't he at least tried? 

Neither of us could have anticipated a mage capable of blocking my ability; much as I'd almost succeeded in pushing through her, Genna's betrayal was more than I could bear. 

If I had never let her go or just stayed at the castle, maybe this would never have happened. But then, my mind saw it fit to ease me of some of my suffering, for she was only doing it to protect me. Was it right to cast her back into the cold? To leave her in the woods to the elements?

I had been so angry, so hurt by what she'd done, yet she could never have known what he'd grown to mean to me. 

Unable to remain still, now that I'm awake, I can't excuse my desire never to leave this chamber. He deserved justice; he deserved better than to be drug behind a horse through the cold, bleeding out and punished for only trying to live. 

 As I slide to the edge of the bed, my jaw aching, my arm swollen and sore from the slice, I see that someone has seen it fit, at least bandaging my wound. My hands were darkened from the magical backlash; I'd tried with everything I had to push through that spell. Grimacing, I move to the washroom, almost falling as I use the wall to catch myself. 

Everything hurt; had I ever run so hard in my entire life? Slowly, I palpate my chest, flinching with a sharp gasp as I find a rib that feels out of sorts. Right, Taryek had punched me. 

Finally, I stepped into the washroom, dipping my hands into the basin of water, for I couldn't stand the thought of having his blood on me any longer. They are still covered with blood and dirt; it's caked under my fingernails, and my arms are splattered over what used to be a long white sleeve, though now missing one of the sleeves. 

 I'm numb as I slowly scrub my hands, trying to wash the muck, grime, and blood off. But it won't go; I scrub harder, it's stuck and stained. 

I take the fingernails of my other hand and rake them against my skin. I scrub violently until my skin reddens and threatens to bleed. I cry out angrily and shove the basin away, spilling water all over the floor. 

Falling to my knees, I flinch at the jolt to my arm and guard it to my chest as tears threaten to roll down my cheeks. 

Look at them. Look at what your weakness caused. 

 My hands tremble, stained with blood, a reminder that he's gone and that if I had just done what I had been trained to do he might still be alive. I was useless, hopeless, and in the end I couldn't save the one person I cared about.

Lost in time, we had allowed our guard to slip. Our greatest weakness had become the other.

I feel empty and lost. 

My feet move without my permission as I stand, pushing me to look out the window. Nobody stirs; no soul is outside the castle, and it's well into the morning. The eerieness overwhelms me, the pack was at a standstill, in mourning just as I was. 

Closing my eyes, my fist balled as I pressed it to the window, fogging the glass with my breath as I silently prayed to whatever god would listen. 

I was a monk before all of this, at least I was supposed to be, and being strong in my faith was something that both my parents and the school had greatly encouraged. I'd turned my back on the religion that had forsaken me to damnation for who I dared to lay with. 

It now, I prayed, willing him to come through the door. I can only envision the silent open and close. His overwhelming heat, the way the scent of the woods followed him, and now follows me. It clings to me, burned into my hands, mixed with the smell of rust and iron. I envision his arms wrapping around me, my favorite expression as he might smell my hair or comment on my height.

When I open my eyes, my reflection startles me. I nearly break the glass as the intruder stares back, only I realize it's me. I'm haunted, my face splattered in blood: my hair a tangled mess, my bruised jaw, and my slightly swollen face, coupled with the torn shirt and gouged shoulder. I look as though I might have attempted to kill him myself.

 I can only imagine what I looked like with my bloodied hands. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks and my eyes lower to my clothes. 

I grasp my shirt between my fingers and extend it away from my body. The blood spatter almost makes me flinch. I rip it off as fast as possible, needing to get away. Rushing back into the washroom, I scavenge what little water remains in my tossed basin and scrub my face, ignoring my tender cheek that screams every time I run my cloth over it.

 But the damage is done, and there's not much I can do to erase the mental image I've burned into the eyes of every lycan in the dining hall last night. That I, Nicolas, killed the Alpha.

Verando had told me to run, he hadn't wanted to risk his death and for me to bring the elf batallion to our doorstep as if they were following me. Had he not anticipated that they would blame me? Or did he not foresee Taryek purposefully dousing me in the blood from the arrow.

Something so unreasonable but possible in the eyes of a society terrified and untrusting of magic. I want to burn my clothes; they remind me too much of him. However, I struggle to rid myself of the only evidence I have. So, I toss them aside and find new ones, my civilian clothes, for looking like a royal would not save me now. 

"Damn you." I curse him, gritting my teeth as I throw myself against the wall and fight against my mental exhaustion. Running my hand through my hair, I grip it at the roots and pound my fist against the stone. I couldn't hate him as much as I tried, for I did truly care for him. 

"I told you you would leave me.. that you wanted to leave.. is that why you didn't fight? You wanted to die?" I exhale shakily with a sickened laugh. "You left me here... on my own, you left me here."

In my mind, all I can see is those arctic eyes boring into me, the red of his blood coloring his lips, and the startling gray of his hair against the blackness of the trees surrounding us. Even then, faced with handing himself over, he looked like he believed in me. 

"You knew they were going to kill me, didn't you?" I mumble, attempting to compose myself, reaching into my depths to ravage whatever was left of my desire to make it through this. "Or perhaps you were just arrogant enough for both of us to think I could defy death for a third time. You said I'd need these men... that this mission wasn't finished."

I won't ask for a pardon; I won't even ask for my life. All I want them to know is the truth that Taryek is coming, and they must protect Dezna. I'm not waiting long before Adriam comes into the room. 

He's tense, and he doesn't look at me. His eyes are red and puffy; he closes the door and leans against it. I don't speak; I can only hold my breath. I'd rather Frost than Adriam, who already had found so much fault in my existence. "Adriam, it's not what it looks like-"

"Did he suffer?" He breathes. 

I flashback, I hear him gasping, I see his bloodied mouth. I watch his blood pool and his heaving chest; I can still see them dragging him away. 

I swallow. "Not for long," I respond in a whisper. "Adriam, he might not be... he's immortal?" I want confirmation, I want him to say it with his own words. "I. Didn't. Do. This."

Adriam gasps and clasps a hand over his mouth. "Why?" He murmurs, gritting his teeth, unable to approach me though the wolf teeters on the edge of control. "Why would I trust you?"

"Because you know how much I cared for him." My voice is weak. I don't sound like I even believe myself. "I told you, Taryek ambushed us."

"Bullshit!" He screams. "You were covered in his blood! You smell like him; you're slashed to pieces, and he obviously tried to fight you off!" He sobs, hysterical, out of his mind, just as I would be if I could allow myself the decency to fall apart. It was a luxury I didn't have. If I truly wanted to accept blame, I had to fix this. 

"Sota said you insisted on meeting Haryek alone with him; Frost confirmed that you decided to go instead of him. Why on earth would Alpha meet Hayrek by himself?! Why would you even-"

"You were going to leave!" I shout back at him, meeting his horrified gaze with one full of resolve. "You were all going to leave, and if I had another opportunity to spend time with him before that happened, I wanted to do it. I could never have guessed what this was going to turn into; blame me for youth.. blame me for selfishness.. but don't you dare insinuate that I could have killed that man."

Sota. 

Genna said someone sent her- I needed her to run a message for me to Taryek. 

"Is Sota the one who handed Frost the letter from Haryek?" I snap back sharply.

"What does it matter? If what you're saying is true, if you're trying to pin this on Sota, then explain to me why Taryek let you come back alive?"

I had been asking myself that same question, over and over, why Taryek wanted Verando to believe that I had set him up, but the reality was that Taryek had tied me to a tree and left me to die. 

Genna had returned; she had untied me; he must have accounted for that. Surely he wasn't so naive as to believe a rope could hold me?

Without Verando and I, what was there for the alliance? From the inside, he would corrupt until nothing was left to do but march in and take over. It didn't matter if I returned or not, Taryek had no faith that the lycans would let me live.

"Taryek set me up... he was informed, too well informed. Someone told him about our alliances; he knew the pack was staying in this castle."

"A sick joke. There had been no merchants in or out; you're insinuating that a lycan.. that Sota.. exposed us to Lord Taryek? Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? Just admit that you killed him so we can be done with this! Haven't I suffered enough?!"

Why did it have to be Adriam? Of all people, why Adriam?

"To ensure that there was no path forward for me! To frame me. To destroy us. Because Taryek is scared! Because he knows we will win." I shout back at him, matching his volume as I solidify my resolve. I wanted a trial; it would be the only way I would make it out of here; Adriam was too far gone to see reason. "I believe Sota wanted to ensure Verando and I were out of the way... I believe he handed Genna the letter to distance himself from the truth that he caused this."

Sniffling, Adriam rubs his eyes with his palms. "You can see how I find this hard to believe." He shakes his head weakly like he's dealing with a child. "Sota is my family, one of my good friends, and he has you dead to rights, leaving with Verando and Frost as a witness. Suddenly, you show up bloody and blame Taryek, who no one has seen?"

"Which should bring you to suspect more than just me if you were in your right mind! Verando said you did not have a mind for war, and I've grown to agree with him. This isn't right, and you know it; you're basing your dislike for me on the facts presented to you! I didn't do this, Adriam!"

The Frenchman shakes his head. "How am I supposed to trust you? Why would you have any reason not to kill him after he killed your parents?" He breathes and presses his back against the door. "I'll be meeting with Haryek and Bogan tomorrow. The alliance still stands, for now. We're not barbarians- we will hold a trial... Nicolas, you're being accused of murder and treason."

"Adriam, I had no reason to trust any of you, but I did. The fact that I came back.. when I had no reason to.. should tell you that what I say is the truth. I would not have come home if I had killed him." 

At that moment, we both pause.

"Verando was my family, son, brother, friend... our only hope at getting out of this. Your only hope- what you did-" He retreats from me, wanting to get away, wanting to escape from my truths. 

I move towards him, quicker this time, as he bares his teeth at me. "You are not the only one who lost someone!" I thunder, my chest heaving with the rage boiling within me. The ground around my feet turns to ice, and the doors on all the cabinets surrounding me fly open. He flinches, as if he thinks I might come for him next. 

"I love how he looks when he sleeps, dimples his cheek when he laughs or looks at me as if he might wish me ill but couldn't bear the thought. Adriam, I did not kill Verando and if we don't do something, there will not be anything we can do. He will be dead and mounted on that bastard's wall if we don't make haste; I love him, Adriam. I came back for him. Please... tell me that he's immortal and that there is hope he still lives."

Tears stream down my cheeks once more, and in that moment, I feel like I might have cracked through Adriam's hard exterior. His dislike for me was clouded by how much that warlord seemed fond of me. 

The French man takes in slow, shaky breaths as he considers this. "There are fates worse than death. If what you say is true, it would be my hope that he would be dead rather than held in an Elven prison. They burn lycans for treason, and his immortality will make it so that he will live until there is nothing left."

All the air leaves my lungs, and I stagger back into the wall, searching the stone floors for any explanation for such cruelty. 

"Verando would want me to give you a fair trial, and I will do just that. May you make peace with whatever God you worship, for you'll need his strength when facing the horde tomorrow. This is no longer a pack, this is a riot.. and they want blood." With that, he leaves.

I feel the tears want to come, but I have nothing; I wish for the heat, the comfort of my warlord. I think of the smell of the woods and his brooding gaze. He might have cut the tension with a snide remark or plotted his defense, though I struggle to see that man as someone who would take such a punishment as a trial lightly. 

It took me this long to realize how much I cared about him.

Looking at my hands, I slowly close them. "It's ok."  I hear his words all too clearly. It is going to be ok, I tell myself. Those words meant more than my mental state. 

He was not the only strong one; I've become strong. I've become more than I ever thought possible. "It's ok," I say out loud to myself. 

I'm strong enough for both of us. I can do this. I can be the leader my people need me to be and lead the rebellion against my father and the very nation itself. 

Slowly, I rise to my feet. 

Tomorrow, I will present my case to the alliance. Whatever their decision, I must convince them—no, I will convince them I'm innocent of this act and that Taryek is coming for us.

 He thought he could break us, but I will prove that he only brought us closer together, bonding us over one common goal. 

Freedom. 

I'm alone again, and for the first time, I don't feel alone.