C2 Cato Kritchley

Being abandoned by my wolf also meant I was abandoned by the luxuries she provided me—like good eye-sight, or exceptional smell, or the ability to find my way around a dark forest at night. I had grown tired of walking after several hours and fell asleep on a pile of leaves. And when I woke, it was to the filthy boots of a man standing before me. I gave a shout and shoved myself back against the stump of a tree.

Cato Kritchley loomed above me—the warrior my father had handed me over to like a cheap loaf of bread. He did not crouch, but leered down at me from above, his large arms crossed over his chest.

“You really aren’t a wolf, are you?” he said.

I felt my face burn.

“If you were a wolf, you would’ve found your way to town by now. Would’ve smelled the bear cave not far down the river west of here. Would’ve known not to sleep on leaves and dirt like a filthy dog.”

Goddess. He was as terrible as he looked.

“And if you were a kinder person, perhaps you would have a mate of your own and I wouldn’t have to crawl away on my hands and knees at the thought of marrying you. Did my father bring you?”

Cato didn’t answer. He lifted the satchel he wore around his neck—my satchel, I realized. Then he scooped out a handful of my flowers and dropped them on the ground. “How exactly did you expect to survive in the forest on flower petals?”

“Stop!” I gathered up my precious flowers and as he handed the satchel over, ripped the strap from his hands. “Go back to my father. I would rather marry the bear sleeping in that cave you mentioned.”

“Marry the bear, then,” Cato said, “but I’ve yet to fail your father, and I won’t start now.”

I had been so distracted stuffing my flowers back into my satchel that I hadn’t noticed Cato leaning down until I was scooped up into his arms. He gave me a bounce, an arm below the knee, one gripping my back. I thought of flailing, of kicking and scratching my way free, but I was tired from walking all night and he was far stronger than me. Even if I were to break free, he would only find me again.

Instead, I stiffened, and crossed my arms and sat patiently with my legs stuck out straight. I might not’ve had a say in going back to my father, but I could at least make the journey as difficult as possible for him.

Cato seemed to catch onto my efforts and gave me a scoff, but he said nothing and he did not complain as he heaved me miles through the forest, back toward the castle doors. As he shifted my weight again, I muttered to him “Watch your hands.”

“Relax,” Cato said. “You’re nothing more than a kid.”

I stuck my legs out straighter after that, so he might bump on every tree on the way back.

Unfortunately, it did nothing more than make Cato walk faster so he could be rid of me sooner. And the moment we stepped past the front guards, Cato dumped me to the floor in the castle foyer. My mother and father waiter for us as we arrived, standing in the center of the room, below a flickering chandelier. Father’s eyes screamed of disapproval, of disappointment, of a newfound disdain for his daughter. He did not say a word to me but shook his head and walked away, shouting to his men, “Put bars on her window and a guard outside her room. I’ve had enough.”

Cato sauntered out in his shadow.

Mother looked to me with more sympathy, her gentle mouth tilting down at the corners. “Oh, my girl,” she said, kneeling to help me from the floor. She patted at the dirt and leaves stuck to my hair and skin and said, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” As she heaved me from the ground and helped me up the stairs toward my bedroom, she gave my arm a pat and said, “It’s not all bad, my love. We’ll still celebrate your birthday as we always have. A giant stag, cooked in smoke the way you like it. And strawberry cake with butter cream frosting.”

“Why would I care about frosting?” I tore away from her and walked the stairs on my own. “I don’t care to grow a day older. I don’t care to marry. I don’t care to find my wolf.” As we neared my room, I turned to her in the doorway and said, “I can make my bath myself, thank you.” Then I shut the door in her face.

I tried two more times to escape that day, and two more times, I was captured by Cato the moment I stepped down from my lattice. Each time, he heaved me back inside and dumped me on the floor. On my third attempt, I found that my lattice had been completely removed, and with it, any chance of me escaping through my bedroom window.

“You may try to jump, but I can’t promise I’ll catch you,” he had shouted from below.

That night, bars were put on my window and a guard was stationed on the ground below. And come morning, Daniel stepped inside to deliver my outfit—a dress my mother had chosen for the day. “Happy birthday,” he told my timidly, laying the dress out on my bed. Then he took a seat beside me on the edge, and we stayed there in silence a long while. I was a prisoner in my own home. A princess, quite literally locked away in a tower.

“If you’re truly as miserable as you think you’ll be, we’ll find a way out,” he said, taking my hand. “Just promise to take me with you. Promise to take me to the East where omegas are free.”

I took comfort in his words and brought his hand to my heart. “I wouldn’t leave you behind for a moment.”

As the day went on, I smelled dinner baking from the kitchen. I couldn’t help but be delighted by the sound of live music, practicing their tunes. By the delightful dress my mother had given me, and by the way Daniel styled my hair for the party that evening.

Guests began to arrive—some as men and some as wolf, and as they filled our home with their chatter and their laughter, I stepped out of my room for the first time all day. Guests had cluttered the floor below, wolves nipping and nuzzling at each other, men laughing and clinking glasses. Friends I had come to know over the years gathered at the bottom of the staircase and awed at the dress my mother had given me—tiny silk flowers sewn onto the skirt and lace climbing the chest.

Strangely, the majority of the guests had not gathered in our typical den, but rather, the throne room where my father typically lounged atop his royal chair and ordered his men around. I waded my way through the crowd to greet my parents and seek out the large supply of stag that was certainly awaiting me. What I found instead, was a set of thrones with a single man sat atop—a man who was not my father.

Cato slouched in his seat, an elbow on the arm rest and one holding his chin. And as I wandered closer to understand, a clinking sound came from my left where my father and mother stood atop the edge of the dais.

“There she is,” my father announced, raising his glass. “The young woman of the evening. Your new dutchess of the Southern Peninsula.”

Voices roared alive around me, wolves howling toward the chandeliers above. A gentle clatter of spoons against glasses rang out through the castle walls. And I realized then why they had all gathered in the throne room. Why there were no gifts, no stag, no cake.

My birthday was not the cause of this celebration. This was an engagement party.

My blood curdled in my veins.

I was taken by the hand and led to the throne chairs. I sunk down in my seat, feeling cold and ill. My world spun. My heart ached.

And beside me, Cato watched my face with gray, smoke-colored eyes. He leaned in. “Look happier,” he whispered in my ear. “Mates enjoy one another’s presence.”

When I met his face, he smiled—though it was strange and wrong and didn’t fit his frightening face. Then he took my hand and raised our fists to the crowd who roared with applause.

I tried my best to fake a smile, tears on the edges of my eyes.