Nikolai

The silence of the citadel was a lie. It was a thin sheet of ice over a boiling ocean, and with every step I took toward the dungeons, I felt it cracking beneath my feet. My fury was a living thing, a second pulse hammering in my temples, a coppery taste on my tongue.

My beast was awake, scratching behind my eyes, whispering of blood and broken bones. It took every ounce of my will to keep him leashed, to maintain the facade of the king, when all I wanted was to let the beast loose and ...