chapter 2
Selene searched the archives in the enormous room that was stacked to the roof with ancient, dust-covered books—a history of her people. She searched in a desperate hope of finding some answers, and she always came to this room when she was upset.
The castle had been in her family since they’d had it built in 1208 A.D. It had been over eight-hundred years since that time, and she found comfort in the history this room represented. And she could use some comfort now. She hadn’t been sleeping so well lately, and her heavy makeup barely disguised the dark circles under her eyes.
No one knew about her ability to enter dreams—no one except for Griffin and Ellie. Not even Selene’s brother, Gideon, had discovered her secret. Her people, the Vyusher, a tribe of metamorphs who shifted into wolves, had been led by her brother Gideon before his fortunate demise. They had killed off most of Griffin and Ellie’s family almost a century ago. Their tribe was called the Darane Svatura, a gypsy term referring to magic and mythology. Before the Vyusher massacred them, the Svatura had been the largest assemblage of people with extraordinary abilities in existence. Only Griffin and his twin sister Ellie had survived the attack against their clan. Selene used to visit Griffin in his dreams. But that was before he knew who she was.
Well, he knows now, she reminded herself. I’ve managed to stay away from him this past year. Nothing’s changed.
Although that wasn’t entirely true… the nightmares were new. And after the one last night, she craved the feeling of security that wrapped around her whenever she was near him, even if it were just in her mind.
“My Lady?”
Selene silently groaned at the interruption. Pushing aside her thoughts, she turned to face Oren, who stood respectfully in the doorway. Her face a perfect mask of serenity, she folded her hands primly in her lap.
“Is it time?”
“They are ready for you,” he confirmed. His gaze did not leave Selene’s face as he searched for some clue as to why she’d requested the High Council of the Vyusher to be assembled.
But Selene had long ago mastered the art of concealing her feelings. She’d had to. Her evil brother had given her no choice. Even Oren, who was like a father to her, didn’t know her true feelings most of the time.
Oren studied the young woman he’d raised. How our people look at her and see a cold, emotionless figurehead is beyond me… regardless of the detached façade she shows us all. How do they miss the fact that it’s not coldness, but fragility? Perhaps they can’t see past her beauty.
Selene was lovely, with her long silvery hair and her wide dove-grey eyes. By right of blood, she’d inherited the burden of leading the Vyusher, a people who possessed extraordinary powers. Her people were made even more incredible by the fact that they were linked by a shared ability to morph into massive timber wolves.
Selene nodded in response to Oren’s summons and rose gracefully from the ancient oak table. He led her from her room and through a series of hallways to the chamber where the Council had gathered. The Vyusher lived in an immense medieval castle currently located in an isolated region of northern Canada. This had been her people’s home for centuries, moving with them from place to place. They were lucky that one of their more talented members had the ability to move entire buildings anywhere they wanted. The castle had originally been built in Austria. Selene’s gaze took in the familiar cold, dark hallways as she followed dutifully behind her surrogate father.
As they neared a pair of massive double doors, a large male hand reached for her elbow, gently slowing her to a halt. She turned to face Desmond O’Moore, the son of a high-ranking Vyusher. About her age, he stood several inches over six feet, lean and muscled.
“Desmond,” she acknowledged.
“Princess.” He gave her a mocking little bow. He knew how much she hated people pandering to her. “So when are you going to call me Dez?”
Selene ignored the question. She always called him by his full name. Using his nickname felt too… personal. But her insistence on formality only amused him, and now he teased her every chance he got.
She kept walking. “What can I do for you?”
He offered her his arm, and she accepted. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“About what exactly?” Selene gave him a cool glance.
“About what you’re about to ask the Council.” He nodded toward the massive double doors down the hallway.
A frown puckered Selene’s brow. How could he possibly know? She’d spoken to no one about her plans, and Desmond did not possess any telepathic abilities. At least none of which she was aware.
“I must go.” She released his arm and turned toward where Oren stood patiently waiting.
“Princess?”
Selene gave him one last glance over her shoulder.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked and then strolled back down the hall, whistling an off-key tune.
Selene’s lips twitched in amusement. Dismissing Desmond from her mind, she turned back to Oren, serious once more. He opened the doors with a flourish and announced her arrival to the assembled Council members.
Selene glided silently through the doors into a large round chamber, once the original Great Hall of the ancient castle but since modernized for more practical purposes. Before her, assembled in a ring around the chamber, stood the decision makers of her pack. Some were in their wolf form, but most appeared as humans. Now that Gideon was gone, Selene had noticed that more and more of the pack preferred their human form for day-to-day activities. She’d also noticed that the Council, without Gideon’s influence directing them, had a great deal of difficulty in making decisions. Although that wasn’t why she’d gathered them today.
Damn you, Maddox! Selene mentally castigated one of the lead wolves who’d abandoned them when Gideon had died. His departure had cast a shadow of doubt on her rule of the Vyusher. Now she was forced to take a step that part of her questioned, part of her wanted—an internal battle of wills she suspected would rage long after the decision had been finalized. Regardless of right or wrong, she’d have to handle this moment with delicacy and tact—traits she secretly feared she didn’t possess.
“My Lords and Ladies,” she spoke in her mellifluous voice, commanding their attention. “I have gathered you here to put forth a request of a personal nature….”
Selene paused and looked around, careful to make brief eye contact with each person in the room.
“My request is to leave the pack for a period of time,” she announced.
A loud murmur buzzed through the assembled group. Selene stood calm and still, waiting for the mumblings to quiet. “I have felt for some time that my presence is a cause for concern,” she continued. “As we all continue to regain our true memories and realize the extent of what Gideon did to us, my relation to my brother makes it difficult for our people to trust me. And that directly impacts their ability to trust you. After a great deal of thought, I know in my heart that this is the right thing to do for the pack. So I ask you to allow me to go.”
The quiet emotion in her final plea caused many of the Council members to pay closer attention. Their princess never showed visible emotion. The fact that she allowed herself to do so on this occasion indicated the seriousness of her petition. The assembled Council members regarded each other.
“Where would you go?” Oren asked. Selene’s heart ached at the sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t shared this decision with him beforehand. She couldn’t. It would’ve been too difficult.
“I thought maybe I’d go to college. It’s an opportunity I’ve never been granted, as well as a plausible explanation for an absence of a decent interval. When I complete my coursework, then we can discuss the possibility of my return.”
“Princess…” Xavier, the head of the Council, rose from his seat and moved forward. “If you would step out for a moment, we will discuss your request.”
“Of course.” Selene projected a calm she wasn’t feeling as she turned and left the room. Once outside in the hallway, she refused to allow herself to pace as she waited for the Council’s decision. Instead she stood silently, her hands folded gracefully in front of her, back straight, head held high. Her serene countenance gave absolutely no sign of the internal turmoil that was rolling through her.
The reasons she’d given the Council for wanting to leave were legitimate; however, she deliberately failed to mention the most important reason – the nightmares. She knew deep down that something was off about the dreams.
The doors slowly opened, and she was ushered back in to the room. She hid her anxiety behind a cool expression. The importance of the Council’s decision weighed heavily on her.