"Would you help me?" She threw the knife away. She knew she couldn't kill him. Why not choose the safer bet?
"I…" Then, before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush against him.
His lips crashed onto hers, a claiming, a challenge, a battle all at once.
Genevieve gasped against his mouth, her body betraying her as heat surged through her veins. His kiss was raw, demanding, almost consuming her.
She wanted to push him away.
She wanted to pull him closer. She was so confused. She hated the mate bond.
Edric growled against her lips, his hands gripping her waist. "Deny it all you want, Genevieve," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "But I can feel it."
Genevieve's pulse raced.
This was dangerous.
This was reckless.
And yet, when he kissed her again, she couldn't find the strength to stop him.
What was this feeling?
~~~
"I don't know what about that girl makes you and my father so obsessed over her." Evelyne's voice sounded in a room somewhere far away from the king's room.
"I know that I am so much better so why her?" She questioned looking at the man who stood before her.
"You are many things but you should know that you can never be her. You are not better than her in anything like her." Alaric's voice sounded with a bit of annoyance.
"Alaric do not go overboard! We were supposed to get married, remember? You were going to be king but everything changed, why? Because of that lowlife you keep lusting over." Evelyne muttered, rolling her eyes.
She angrily stood up from the seat she was sitting on and walked to the door. Just as she was about to push the door open another voice sounded.
"This is not the reason we are here, do you remember?" His voice sounded.
"If the king does not hand over the throne then we better take it away from him. That is why we are here."
"You plan to kill my father?" Evelyne turned around to look at her, she frowned her brows as her gazes shifted to Alaric.
"No, my lady, do not misunderstand us. We would only take the throne, nothing else. You know that with Lady Genevieve with him he would never leave so there is only one solution." The man muttered. He sat on a seat, holding onto his walking-stick.
"Will we kill her?" Evelyne smiled.
"Father, I don't want Genevieve dead. We already agreed." Alaric's eyes lit up in flames.
"But you are fine with killing my father?" Evelyne said and in a smooth move Alaric was right in front of her his hand pinned on her neck.
"We can try anything but killing Genevieve is not part of what we are here for." He frowned and pushed her away.
Cough cough.
"As you wish I have no issues with you having a mistress." She muttered, still choking.
"Duke Reynard, I have to go now." She forced a smile and eyed Alaric as she worked out of the room.
~~~~
The crisp morning air carried the scent of damp earth and pine, added with the faint metallic smell of blood from previous hunts. Trumpets blared across the clearing, signaling the beginning of the event. Genevieve sat rigid atop her chestnut mare, her hands clenched around the reins. She had never hunted before. Not in the way they expected her to.
The elders watched from a distance, their eyes sharp with judgment. The Queen Dowager lingered in the shadows of the pavilion, a ghost in mourning silks. Her lips curled in a whisper of a smirk, as if she could already see Genevieve's failure etched in fate.
"Relax," Edric murmured beside her. He rode a massive black stallion, his posture regal, effortless. He exuded the confidence she lacked, and it only frustrated her further.
"I don't need your advice," she snapped, keeping her gaze ahead. She had to do this. She had to prove herself.
Edric chuckled, the sound was deep. "Fine. Do it your way. But if you die, I'll be very disappointed."
Her jaw clenched, but she ignored him.
Across the clearing, Alaric adjusted his gloves, his gaze flickering to the treeline where the assassins were positioned. Evelyne stood beside him, her expression unreadable. Duke Reynard sat in his carriage, watching everything unfold.
"This should be interesting," Alaric muttered under his breath.
The horn blew again.
And then, the hunt began.
---
The forest was alive with movement—knights and nobles on horseback, hounds sniffing out prey, the sound of hooves pounding against the damp earth. Genevieve struggled to keep up, her body tense as her mare darted between trees.
The first arrow was loose. A deer fell. Cheers erupted.
Genevieve reached for the bow slung across her back, her fingers trembling as she notched an arrow. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She spotted a stag, its antlers magnificent as it dashed through the underbrush.
Now.
She exhaled, steadied her grip, and released.
The arrow missed.
A few knights chuckled under their breath. The Queen Dowager's lips curled with disdained smirk.
Genevieve's stomach twisted, but she refused to let them see her falter. She grabbed another arrow. She wouldn't fail. She couldn't.
Edric suddenly moved beside her. He lifted his bow with effortless precision and let his arrow fly. It struck the stag clean through the heart. The beast crumpled.
Genevieve stiffened.
"Not bad," he murmured, lowering his bow.
"Don't patronize me," she hissed.
"I'm not." He smirked. "I'm just better."
She gritted her teeth.
The hunt continued deeper into the forest. The trees grew denser, the air thick with tension.
And then—
A knight on horseback moved too close to her.
Something was wrong.
His armor was slightly off, the crest unfamiliar. And when he turned his head, Genevieve caught the flicker of something dark beneath his helm. His eyes.
Not a knight.
An assassin.
Genevieve's breath caught in her throat. She barely had time to react before the knight twisted in his saddle and aimed an arrow, not at Edric.
At her.
She yanked the reins hard, her horse rearing just as the arrow whistled past. It grazed her shoulder, the sting sharp against her skin.
Shouts erupted. Edric was on the move, his sword drawn.
Genevieve reached for her own blade, but the knight was faster. He lunged.
She barely dodged, tumbling from her horse and rolling onto the forest floor. Pain shot through her ribs.
The knight leapt down, his dagger glinting in the dim light. "You were never meant to survive," he sneered.
Genevieve's breath came in ragged pants. The elders' test had never been about the hunt.
It was about survival. Her survival.
Who on earth wanted her dead?
The knight lunged.
A blur of movement Edric's blade clashed against the assassin's.
"Stay down!" Edric barked at her.
Genevieve ignored him. Her fingers closed around a fallen dagger. She forced herself up, ignoring the pain. If she didn't fight, she was dead.
The knight whirled on her. But before he could strike—
A growl ripped through the clearing.
The air turned ice-cold.
Something massive lunged from the shadows.
Not a beast.
A rogue.
But not just any rogue.
Its eyes glowed red, its fur matted with old blood. The creature wasn't hunting for food.
It was hunting her. Was she so expensive?
The knight stumbled back in shock. He wasn't expecting this either.
It seemed she had too many enemies who wanted her dead.
The rogue let out a snarl and sprang forward.
Genevieve barely had time to raise her dagger before it slammed into her, knocking her back onto the ground. Claws raked her arm, searing pain exploding through her.
She struggled, gasping, her hands shoving against its thick fur.
How could a rogue be so strong?
It wasn't just a rogue. It was a rogue Alpha. She saw the mark on its head.
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.
She had heard the stories of shifters who left their packs and were turned killers, and killed for the highest bidder. This one had been sent to her. It was so funny she wanted to laugh but she was too busy worrying about her life.
"Genevieve!"
Edric shouted her name.
The rogue Alpha snapped its jaws, inches from her throat. Its breath was rancid, its growl vibrating through her bones.
And then she stabbed.
The blade sank deep into its side.
The rogue howled in agony.
Edric was there in an instant, his sword flashing in the dim light. With one clean swing, he severed the rogue's head.
Silence.
Genevieve lay gasping beneath the weight of the now-lifeless beast. Blood, hers, the rogue's soaked the ground.
Edric yanked her up, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"
She blinked at him, still dazed.
And then she laughed. A broken bitter laugher.
"I was supposed to prove myself today." Her voice was hoarse. "Instead, I was nearly killed."
Edric's expression hardened. He reached up, brushing his thumb over the cut on her cheek.
"You did prove yourself," he murmured.
Genevieve swallowed, her chest tightened.
The elders were watching. The Queen Dowager stood in the distance, her face unreadable.
Alaric and Evelyne exchanged a glance.
Evelyne rolled her eyes, folding her hand into a fist by her side.
Her plan had failed.
Genevieve had survived.
Why?