"Go away, I'm sleeping," I groaned as I felt someone shaking me. Reaching out with my hand, I tried to half-heartedly swat the culprit away as my eyes flickered open to a dimly lit room. A view which was soon invaded by the grumpy face of my partner.

"Get up," she demanded, glaring at the half-asleep mumble I gave her in return. "Get up before I stab you with your own sword."

Moaning again, I rolled over so my back was facing her and buried my head into my pillow. Normally I was so good at getting out of bed, but, after having my mind invaded by my stubborn, elusive wolf, the bed seemed like the nicest place to be.

I shot upright as shock ran through my whole body, the drowsiness completely gone. Slowly lifting my hand to my face, it came back wet and I glared at Marcella and the empty glass she held.

"Irrumator," I cursed, pulling off the blanket and turning to sit on the edge of my bed. 

Marcella merely smirked. "Shouldn't have fallen asleep."

I noticed the floor was strewn with my clothes and belongings, and I bent down to pick them up. Under my breeches was a book which I held up to the dim light to read the title. "The history of the twelve packs," I read aloud before realising what it was. "Hey, Marcella. I got you a souvenir."

Marcella caught the book with one hand, glancing over the cover before opening it to the first page. "Long before Lycaon was a country, it was divided into twelve powerful packs who controlled territory throughout the land," she traced each line with her finger as she spoke. "Wars were frequent as packs fought for land and power, all trying to be the best. But this ended when Santorinians invaded and took over the country. The packs were forced to work together to overthrow the oppressive conquerors and from that was forged the country Lycaon. In the beginning, Lycaon was-"

She cut off, closing the book and chucking it on her bed which was on the opposite side of the room to mine. "Thanks, I'll enjoy the history lesson. I have always wanted to learn about the oppressive Santorinians who gave women equal rights."

"You're welcome," I replied. "It's about time you learnt your alphabet."

She growled at me, her amber eyes becoming more intense and fiery as her wolf became more dominant in her mind. The sudden reminder of my wolf's absence, along with my wolf's sudden appearance and then her disappearance, caused a tear to leak from my eyes and I bit my lip to suppress a whimper.

"Faex, I'm sorry," Marcella embraced me in a tight hug as soon as she noticed the heartbroken look etched into my face. "Is it about the General? Are you still upset?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not that. Anyway, I'm fine." I brushed off her concern and stood up, forcing a smile. "See, there is nothing wrong."

She growled, more softly this time. "Artemis, don't do that to me. Don't pretend everything is okay when I know it isn't. Tell me what is wrong or I will-" She paused, no decent threat coming to mind. "I will threaten you with something terrifying," she finally decided on.

"I'm so scared," I responded, my voice drenched in sarcasm. "Seriously, though, I am fine."

Marcella gave me a look of disappointment, seeing straight through my facade. But when I did not remove the mask and show her the emotions brimming underneath, she did not press the issue, knowing she would get nowhere. She had tried to get me to speak about my mother's death for almost five years without getting anywhere. And this would be exactly the same.

"Since you were busy sleeping," she swiftly changed the subject, "you missed finding out about the ball the Alpha King and Luna Queen are hosting. Octavia is the guest of honour so that means a night of listening to dull conversations, scaring away suitors and trying not to drown our misery in alcohol."

I groaned. "Can I go souvenir shopping again?"

"No, you are not leaving me to suffer again." She glanced into the mirror as she took her raven hair out of its neat plait and twisted it into a bun. Then she reached over and picked up a red velvet cloak embroidered in gold and attached to her right shoulder, already dressed in her ceremonial armour for the ball. "The ballroom will be packed with every Alpha, Luna, Beta, Beta Thilykós and Alpha warrior in the country. Not all of them agree on this alliance either so anyone of them could be a threat to the princess. I can't protect her on my own tonight. I need you beside me."

I sighed, knowing there was no way I could avoid this to mope in my room alone. It was my duty as an Agem, in fact, I was not even sure why I was trying to avoid it. 

"I just need to get ready," I responded, gesturing at the black tunic which was the only garment I was wearing.

"Good. Your ceremonial clothes are in the chest at the end of your bed. Be quick."

Marcella left the room, grabbing her sword on her way out and giving me the privacy to change by myself. It was not that I was shy to be naked in front of her. We had always shared a room and nudeness was something that never bothered us. She just wanted to give me a few minutes alone before a dull, action-packed evening.

Surprisingly, I loved the ceremonial uniform of an Agem. Polished, unscratched armour was buckled over black breeches and a woollen tunic, dyed with kermes which was a very expensive red dye. The tunic itself was cut so a huge slit on the right side exposed my whole right leg and offered a view of my left leg which was covered at the front and back by the shin-length skirt of the tunic. The gold thread had been stitched in so the emblem of the royal family adorned the fabric, marking me as their royal guard, as did the red colour which was a royal colour.

The armour was also decorated, engraved with patterns and the occasional emblem of the royal family, whilst the sword belt I attached around my hips was made of black leather with an ornate gold buckle. Black leather boots and a red cloak hanging off my right shoulder completed the look and I felt a burst of confidence and power radiate from me. This is why I loved the uniform; it made me feel invincible.

Stood in front of a mirror, I pulled my blonde hair into a bun instead of its usual plait and tucked a small throwing dagger into the hairstyle for emergency use. However, before I could turn away from the mirror, my finger found its way up to the scar on my face and I traced it, shivering at the touch.

In that moment, I could hear my own hoarse screams from twenty-seven years ago. I could feel the sheer panic and shock I had felt as I had clung to the body in front of me, my hands dripping in blood. I could taste the bitter, choking scent of death as -

"No," I firmly demanded, pushing the memory back into its cage, so I could hide from it once more. "You don't get to control me anymore." I was so adamant in what I was saying, however, these words in themselves reminded me more of the past. 

I remembered the days when I lay in darkness, head buried in blankets and clothes which held a scent not yet tainted with blood like the smell of her being lowered into that grave. People had come and gone, knocking on the door and pleading for me to let them in. They wanted to help, they said. They wanted to make it all better. But they did not realise the only way to make it all better would be to bring her back.

Finally, when all hope had seemed lost, a soft knock on the door alerted me to yet another person's presence. Their voice was colder than the rest, more commanding than caring. But it drew me out of the stale room and over to the door which I pulled open slightly and peered through the crack. Red eyes had stared back at me, uncaring and business-like. But they were the only ones which managed to break me free from my prison.

She hadn't said much. She just told me to not let a single death control the rest of my life in her cold, nonchalant manner. Somehow, her complete insensitivity and lack of empathy helped me rebuild myself until I was stronger than I have ever been. And, since that day, I had lived by a pact. The past was the past, I could not change it. And so, I refused to let it dictate my life.

Now, stood in front of the mirror, I realised that was what I was doing. The anniversary of my mother's death, the face of my father's murderer, it was all cruel reminders of my past which I was letting take control of my emotions and my life. So much so, that I was allowing myself to neglect my duties as an Agem, the only thing that mattered to me. 

But there would be no more. 

----

Hello again, kind readers. I thought I should clarify updates. I am not a very organised person so cannot give you an update schedule. However, I will try to update every two days, though this may vary depending on how busy I am. That's not a bad thing though, you might get two chapters in one day.

BTW 'Irrumator' means bastard in Santorinian (Latin)

Anyway, have a great day.