Hekate’s Bride

Did I get beat up?

Hell yeah.

She moves too fast for me to follow, it is like trying to catch the wind. Or maybe run faster than my shadow. With every hit she lands on me, the crowd cheers louder and louder, and the bet points rise higher and higher.

I barely dodge a punch when another lands in my belly. I don’t feel pain. I become one with pain.

She doesn’t stop hitting me, expecting me to yield to her. I can’t have her beat me to a pulp and still beg for mercy. Double jeopardy. Goddess forbid it. All I think of as she hits me is how to pay her back in kind.

When I am curled up against the wall with my hands shielding my face from her, a voice cuts through the shouts of excitement. “Enough!”

I crack an eye open and see Rune cutting through the crowd. I have never been happier to see him.

“What is this?” He asks and Ginevra turns away from me to face him, giving me enough space to breathe. My ribs ache. Goddess. This really isn’t my week.

“She challenged me to a duel-”

“You could have refused. She is new here and she doesn’t know the rules.”

I blink. The entire hall is stunned into silence like I am, staring at Rune with utter disbelief. Did I hear wrongly or is Rune taking my side?

“She disrespected me,” Ginevra says angrily but I can hear the falter in her proud tone; the slight quiver to her voice.

Rune’s eyes remain cold and unyielding. “And you have punished her by lowering yourself to her level. We lead by example. This isn’t you, Gin. Help her up. Now.”

Ginevra’s fists clench by her sides but she says nothing to him. She walks to where I sit on the ground and extends an arm to me. ‘I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”

Her voice is oddly soft and tender like a lullaby. A great contradiction to the undercurrent of menace and hatred I can feel rolling off her. Each word drips with syrupy sweetness that conceals the darkness her eyes do not hide. Warning flags are waved in my head and I jerk out of her reach before her hands can touch me.

Am I hurt?

Ask your damn fists, bitch.

But Ginevra catches my sleeve and pulls me up with a gentility that screams, “Danger.”

“Take down the videos or your phones will be confiscated.” Rune’s voice is hard; harsh and comes out in layers, instilling fear in students. Thumbs fly, hitting against screens and the crowd start to disperse, having had their show cancelled.

Ginevra suddenly pulls me in and her breath is hot against my ear as she whispers, “I know he was in your room last night. I can smell him on you. I see the way you look at him. Stay the fuck away from Rune. He is already taken. I will be his Erasthai. A pup like you cannot begin to comprehend what that means. Know your place or you will have me to contend with. Stay away from Rune.”

I pull back and a sweet smile is on her thin lips, going all the way to her eyes and she tucks my hair behind my ear. “Do come by my room later. I should have a bit of salve somewhere-for the bruises.”

Reeling from her words and the emotions cloistering within me, I yank my arm from her grip, hiding my wince when she touches the wound on my forearm. “I’m not interested in him. If I was, rest assured, I’d already have him.”

A grim expression flickers across her face and I walk away from her, hiding my limp-I have been doing a lot of that recently-and for a split second as I walk past Rune, our eyes meet.

“Astrid,” he starts and I hate the neutrality in his tone.

“Put a leash on your mate,” I snap before walking away.

************

I trace idle lines on the desk as I await the teacher. My eyes are glued to the table and my face is hidden under a fancy hat. I would look great if I didn’t have a glaring black eye from today’s beating.

The class is noisier than usual and the unending laughter of my classmates are loud enough to disrupt the music blasting through my earbuds.

I give them a quick glance and I soon realize why when I see a timid female trying and failing to get past the middle aisle. Tall, lean, doe eyes, thin lips that are pressed into a shaky line, hands crossed over her chest as she holds the straps of her bag tightly. I have seen her in class a couple of times.

“Let me through,” she pleads in a tiny voice that reminds me of squeaking mice and the boys laugh.

“Show us some more of that pie, Maya,” burly Ethan barks and his entire group burst into laughter. The girl, Maya, tries to make her way past them but someone sticks out his leg and she lets out a sharp cry as she falls to the ground.

I force myself to look away. I already have so many people out to get me. I don’t need Ethan and his crooks gunning for me in class as well.

It goes on for minutes and increasing the volume of the music does little to nothing to help. I track the time, trying to drown out the cries of the female like the rest of the class is, but I am not wired that way. Words, I can look away from, but physical abuse, I can’t.

Fifteen more minutes to the start of the period and Ethan hasn’t stopped teasing her. I lurch out of my seat when he reaches for her behind and pinches it hard.

“Leave her alone.”

Ethan turns to me and his lips rise into a sneer. “The wolf cunt has something to say?”

I scoff. Wolf bitch? How original, I think as I walk down the aisle, kicking at their boots roughly until the path is clear and they all look like they are going to kill me right now. I don’t stop walking until I am in front of Maya.

Without taking my eyes of her, I bury the pointed heel of my boot in his toe. “Call me cunt again and I’ll stick it down your throat next.”

He yelps, face red with pain and I all but grab Maya’s hand and pull her down the aisle with me until I reach my seat.

“Thank you for standing up for me. No one else would have.” She gets into the seat beside me, dropping her cell phone, tablet and a couple of old hard cover notes with stickers decorating the surface on the table in front of her.

I shrug. “It was nothing. No one should touch you that way.” I murmur and raise the earbuds to block my ears again, but she stops me with words tumbling off her lips.

“It’s been like this for years now. In tenth grade, I had a boyfriend and I pretty much sent him my nudes with a caption, ‘want some of this pie’. He distributed it to the whole school and I have had to go through this every day. Being called pie and-”

On and on, she talks, giving me a crash course of what her life has been like so far and somehow shifts through topics like she is shifting screens. Even when Mistress Zara comes into the class to teach, she still doesn’t stop talking.

“I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I have not had a friend to speak to in forever and my lips tend to get loose when I’m nervous and with people I admire. . .”

I lift an eyebrow. “People you admire? I am one of them?”

She nods. “Everyone knows you. The Princess of Wolvendom. I admire your strength and resilience. You don’t stop fighting, not even after you’ve been put down. I wish to have your strength and courage. I wish I could speak as boldly as you do. I wish to be heard.”

I do not tell her that my resilience has stemmed up from my need to be heard as well. I do not tell her that I have no strength in this place. I do not tell her that I am one more black eye away from running away from this school and damning my reputation to hell. I do not say that with every second I spend surrounded by these lycans, I lose sense of who I am; who I am meant to be.

It feels like I am being pushed around by unseeing hands and my life is being navigated by a complete stranger.

I looked at the mirror this morning and saw nothing of Princess Astrid Blackwood.

All I saw was a lost woman with tired eyes and fading bruises covering them.

I do not know what the Goddess’s plan is for me in this place, but a year seems like a damn long time to hold out for. I can’t even get through the first week. I have been beaten, bullied, insulted, cussed at and neglected. I have no idea of what strength she speaks of.

A loud chime cleaves the air and I groan, closing my ears as the speakers in the halls blare. I don’t think I will ever get used to those things.

“After the second period, all students must assemble in the Lycan King’s Hall.”

We all exchange worried looks and Maya whispers as Mistress Zara goes back to drawing family trees on the board. “You think they are finally going to address the deaths?”

My hand drifts to the injury on my forearm and even if it is covered with my black long sleeve, I wrap my arm softly around the wound. “I don’t know.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.