Chapter 7: The Sweet and the Sting
The morning after the Engagement Ball, the sun rose over Redpaveley with a rare, golden warmth. For the first time since arriving in this village, I didn't wake up feeling like a ghost. I woke up feeling like a man with a destination.
"Going somewhere?" my father, Drac, asked as I reached for my jacket. He was sitting at the kitchen table, a single red rose in a glass of water between us.
"I'm taking Wolfie out," I said. "An actual date. No parents, no Council, no politics."
Drac smiled, a genuine, soft expression that smoothed the wrinkles around his eyes. "A 'date,' is it? In the city, that meant a dark club and loud music. In Redpaveley, it means the cliffs and the forest. Be careful, Drayan. The air here is thin, and the hearts are thick."
I didn't need the warning. I met Wolfie at the bridge that separated the vampire district from the werewolf dens. She was wearing a simple yellow sweater and jeans, her short hair windswept and wild. When she saw me, she didn't just wave; she ran. She collided with me, her warmth soaking through my clothes, and for a second, the rest of the world vanished.
"Ready for the 'Official Redpaveley Tour'?" she asked, her amber eyes bright with mischief.
"Show me the way, Wolfie."
We spent the afternoon in a way I never thought possible for someone like me. We went to a small bakery run by a forest witch where the bread tasted like honey and sunlight. We walked along the Scarlet River, where the water flowed over red stones that gave the village its name. We sat on a high cliff overlooking the valley, sharing a bag of enchanted cherries that made our voices pitch higher every time we laughed.
For a few hours, we weren't the "Blood and Fur Alliance." We were just Drayan and Wolfie. I told her about the city—the tall buildings that touched the clouds and the way the lights never went out. She told me about the pack—the way they sang to the moon even when it wasn't full, and the way the forest felt like a living, breathing limb of her own body.
"I used to think I'd be lonely forever," I admitted, looking at her profile against the setting sun.
"And now?" she asked, turning to me.
"Now I think I just hadn't found the right kind of trouble yet."
But while we were laughing on the cliffs, the shadows in the village were deepening.
In the dark corner of the Silver Stag Tavern, two figures sat in a booth far from the light. Seraphina sat with her wings tightly furled, her face a mask of cold porcelain. Opposite her was Marcus, his knuckles bruised from punching a training dummy all morning.
"They look happy," Seraphina whispered, her voice like a jagged piece of ice. She was staring at a magical reflection in a bowl of dark water—an image of Wolfie and me on the cliffs. "It's nauseating. A city-stray and a mutt, acting as if they own the future of this village."
"I want him gone," Marcus growled, his voice a low, animalistic rumble. "He doesn't belong here. He took what was supposed to be mine. The alliance, the status... the girl."
"Patience, Marcus," Seraphina said, her fingers tracing the rim of the bowl. "If we just attack them, the Council will execute us. We need a scandal. We need a tragedy. We need to show the village that this 'union' is a disaster waiting to happen."
She looked at Marcus, a cruel light in her celestial eyes. "The Lunar Eclipse is in two days. The moon will turn red, and the were-kin's blood will boil. Usually, the pack stays in the high caves for safety. But what if Wolfie isn't in a cave? What if she's in the middle of the village, and her 'anchor'... her precious Drayan... isn't there to calm her down?"
Marcus smirked, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. "If she shifts in the town square and hurts someone... the alliance is dead. And Drayan will be blamed for failing to control her."
"Exactly," Seraphina whispered. "I'll handle the distractions. You handle the bait. By the time the moon turns red, Drayan will realize that some stars are meant to stay in the sky—and some monsters are meant to be put down."