SEVEN

Astaroth

RIBBONS OF SUNLIGHT STREAMED into Dante’s room. His dark blue curtains were pulled back, revealing an arched window with a stained-glass design of a flame dragon. Reds, golds, and oranges were intermixed, creating a beautiful glow across the silver rug in the center of the room. Dante sat hunched at his desk, scribbling away at a stack of documents.

“Astaroth, please. I’m busy with paperwork that Father said you couldn’t do with your injury,” he said over his shoulder, clad in a cloud-gray tunic with a scarlet vest.

The words weren’t condescending, but they should have been. I lowered my eyes to my hands. Being stuck in a wheelchair, unable to move about without Anton’s help, made me feel weak and useless; a burden, some would say.

“I just had to ask you a question. About the wolf,” I said.

Dante paused. He sat back in his chair, looking over at me. “What about him?”

I swallowed. “Father said he was yours again. I feel guilty taking him from you, but I- He’s not just anyone to me. You know that dragonthorns only have one mate. I just didn’t expect mine to be a wolf; this has never happened before.”

“You’re right.” Dante’s expression softened. He scooted his chair back and stood up, stretching his arms above his head, and then walked over to me. “I heard you had a talk with the wolf.”

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, heat rushing to my cheeks. Just thinking about Dios made my heart jump. The name still didn’t sound right, as if the name belonged to someone else, but he had every right to tell me a false name. “His name is Dios. Or that’s what he told me.”

“Do you want me to get the truth?” he asked.

I shook my head, the pink hue of my cheeks darkening. “No, no! I want to earn his trust. If you are to own him again, please take care of him. I can’t lose him.”

Dante sighed. “Alright. But what of Father? He’ll want me to torture him.”

Narrowing my eyes, I balled my hands into fists. “Let him threaten that. Dios is my mate, and if Father wants me to take the throne, he’s got to compromise.”

A knock at the door caused us to flinch. Anton walked over to the door and opened it to reveal the guard from before. He straightened out his uniform, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the room as Anton shut the door. He visibly relaxed once were alone.

“Fuck,” he said, slouching his shoulders. “Finally, on break only to be told to guard Lady Morgana until another guard could take over.”

Dante smirked. “Did you enjoy it, Mason?”

The guard grimaced. “Heck, no! Learning that Asta is engaged pisses me off!”

The smirk faltered, and all the color drained from Dante’s face. Dante looked at me, eyes widening. “You’re engaged?”

I nodded, lips tightening into a thin line. “Father’s setting me up to have an heir. I’m pretty sure so he can get me killed and call it a day.”

“What? Why?” Mason asked, voice straining. His eyes hid nothing, glittering with sorrow as he walked over to me, taking my face in his hands to look at me better.

“I’m the mistake. Look at it this way; the war would have never started if I hadn’t been born. Mama wouldn’t have been so weak and could have fought back against the wolves,” I said flatly.

His hands tightened as a frown pulled at the corners of his lips. He leaned over and placed a kiss on my temple. The sensation was warm and inviting, but hardly the spark that Dios’ hand caused. He pulled back, fire burned in his eyes. “Don’t you ever say that again, Asta! I love you, and we care about you!”

“I love you, too,” I told him, taking hold of his hands. “Now, would you care to tell me about your connection to Prince Ivaln Stone?”

Mason’s eyes widened, a hint of guilt reflecting in them. He shrugged my hands away and turned to look at Dante. “Where did you hear that?”

“Anton. His job is to know everything about the people I let around me.”

He swallowed like a rock was lodged in his throat. Silence echoed through the room. Whatever his past held for him was something he didn’t want to talk about. I understood that, but this was a piece of him I needed to know. Our freedom was riding on it.

“Mace, I get your concern,” I spoke, reaching out to take his hand in mind. He simply pulled back from me, and I winced like I had been burned. “Anton told me as a way to break off the engagement with Lady Morgana. Your status is higher than hers, and one of royalty. Father has always wanted our family to marry into the royal family of the Wrihan Dynasty.”

“So you would throw me under the train?”

This time, I flinched and recoiled away from him. I did do that. By exposing his family’s secret, I made him a target. Dante would lose his guard, and the royal family of the Dynasty would be notified that an engagement between the families would be needed to continue the alliance.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry; that I would never bring it up again, but the words died on my tongue. As usual, I screwed things up and made everyone disappointed in me. How very average of me.

Mason finally turned to look at me again. “I need some air,” he remarked coldly, a glare in his eyes.

Without another word, he left the room, and I sat in the wheelchair, looking at the door as it shut with a bang. His tone said everything I needed to know.

Dante sat down in his chair again, running a hand through his long hair.

“Asta, why did you bring that up?”

Biting my lip to avoid snapping, I shot him a glare. Before I could say anything, Anton cut in.

“You knew this whole time? What of Astaroth’s happiness?”

“Because Mason left his family; he wanted out of the draining life he had. Charities, meetings, stuffy clothes. Mason desired a simple life, and your mouth ruined it,” Dante scolded me.

I ruined another life.

Screw up.

Failure.

Reject.

Mistake.

The words came tumbling into my mind, drowning out Dante’s rant, and their darkness coiled around my thoughts until I covered my ears and screamed. It wasn’t a wild animal scream, but a shrill, screeching sound.

He hates me now.

I just had to trap him.

Why did I have to go and open my mouth?

It would be better if I had no tongue to speak.

Should have just cut it out.

Dante lurched forward, running toward me. I felt his large hands cup my face, but the image of him was blurry. I had not realized tears were streaming down my cheeks. Dante’s voice was garbled, like he was underwater, as he tried to get to me focus on him. Clawing out with my hand, a wreath of black flames trailed after my fingers.

One moment, I could barely see Dante in front of me, and the next I saw the carpet rushing toward me. Another scream tore from me when I hit the carpet, and binds of thick cloth wrapped around my arms, binding them behind me.

The last thing I heard was muffled shouting as the door burst open again.