Lucrezia stepped closer to the door, noticing the steady warm light spilling through the gap. Her heart hammered within her chest as she scanned the empty corridor, focusing her senses on the slight movements.
Thankfully, servants didn't linger in this part of the manor, however, she waited to confirm. Assured she was indeed alone, Lucrezia nudged the door with her fingertips, letting it widen just enough for her to slip into the study.
She was greeted with a large desk at the far end, shelves packed with scrolls, maps pinned to the walls with precise markings, and ink still wet in an open inkwell. There were a few others, but the little she grasped was enough to tell her nothing about the room felt abandoned but merely paused, as though its owner had stepped out only moments ago.
The last time she'd been in a study was when her father summoned her from the Red Keep to announce this preposterous union that didn't just transmit waves of trepidation coursing through her veins, but fear and anger. And when she refused, as typical of the Alpha of Secktom Pack, he threatened her with her mother, Corvina.
The knowledge of Sins was vast to everyone across lands and villages. They were made from the Devil's bones, and a ploy to punish all kinds after turning against one another. Others referred to them as "merciless", "Hand of Death", "Lucifer's hierarchy", "Sinners", and worse, "Lucifer Bones".
For thousands of years, they have lived on earth, built armies bigger and fiercer than all the Seven Kingdoms, controlled wars and battleships victorious, and turned murder into a "spree". There was no new knowledge about the gods that control them, the ones that stood above law and accord, but the Higher Ups.
Those were the most treacherous. They were feared and worshipped so their wrath never befalls on the living as much as the dead. Rumors once had it that the gods governed something called the "Realm" and built a chateau known as the Trinity where souls roam, and the dead wandered, until it stopped being gossiped about. For it is known that those who speak about the gods summon bad omen to their lives and generations, and so, that knowledge was excavated into nothingness.
But what no one ever thought about but Lucrezia, was why the gods were never to be spoken about? Or why they existed in the first place.
She approached the desk first where a single document lay unrolled at its center. It looked like someone had gone through whatever information lay within, and her eyes drifted behind at the faint noises outside.
She was alone for now, but she barely had much time to spare.
Quietly unfolding the parchment, her eyes scanned its content, noticing the strange language and symbols repeated in strict patterns like coded instructions. Lucrezia didn't recognize the wording no matter how much she tried to and the symbols weren't helping.
With a sigh, she returned the document to the table, and at that moment, her eyes caught something. Beside it rested a dark metal ring she had never seen him wear.
Lucrezia picked it up, peering closely at the ring carved with the same motif she'd spotted on the missing paintings' borders two days earlier. Or was she mistaken?
The ring didn't look anything special, but even the odd-looking ones retain extraordinary powers, and she quietly slipped it inside her elbow-length glove.
Her eyes wandered around the room which didn't look like anything worth digging, except for the state of political matters and supposed rivalries. Though a Sin, he was also a Lord, and that meant there had to be enemies and alliances withheld, which at this point, concerns her too.
However, she doubted he would ever confide any stately business with her, because after all, she was betrothed to him as the cross of werewolves and not his wife. A marriage born of alliance.
Finally, Lucrezia turned to the nearest map on the wall whose locations were circled in black, and her brows furrowed deeply, moving closer. Why was this here?
She'd always known black meant something bad, and her pulse quickened when she spotted one of them being her homeland.
"Well, well, well," a voice siphoned, edged with curiosity and amusement. "I had no idea werewolves had a penchant for snooping around,"
At the sound of the feminine voice, Lucrezia's head snapped behind at the unexpected presence stationed at the entrance of the door with a sickening smile on her lips.
Her heart hammered wildly against her chest but she kept her composure steady though her spine locked in place. H-How didn't she notice someone coming?
"I…" She started, attempting to clear the uncomfortableness in the air and sudden tension clinging like ice.
"Oh, don't bother," She cut off lightly, and finally moved, sashaying towards her in light and precise footsteps. "Everyone here sneaks. Some of us are simply better at pretending we don't,"
Her gown brushed the floor in warning as she approached her and Lucrezia instinctively took a quiet step back. The woman's eyes swept the study in a single practised glance, taking in the unrolled document, the open drawers, and finally Lucrezia herself.
Coming to stand before her, "You must be the Lady Anastasia of Dreadwyn," She said and added a smile too good to be true. "I've heard so much about you."
Lucrezia returned the gesture more calmly, however, she didn't know how to respond to that. Everyone knew who she was—or precisely, her sister, Anastasia—a nasty way. Although, it surprised her to consider whether her compliment was for good or mockingly bad.
"Oh, forgive me," She rushed softly. "Lady Agnes Fleminghill of Tyrell," She introduced with a slight bow which Lucrezia returned.
She had heard enough of the name Tyrell to understand the power it carried. Their House commanded the largest chain of port cities along the Eastern Crescent with vast, fortified harbors where merchant fleets from every kingdom docked under their banners. Hundreds of ships bore their crest, and with each tide came spices, steel, silks, and grain that fed half the realm.
Where other noble Houses fought for land, the Tyrells ruled the sea, and through the sea, they ruled trade, wealth, and influence. It made them one of the three most formidable mortal Houses, not by brute force, but by controlling what every kingdom depended upon: routes, coin, and food.
Lady Agnes Fleminghill was the first and only daughter of that maritime empire, followed by her brothers, Lord Tyrion and Lord Davidson, none of whom were wed. Rumors whispered that the Lady had turned down every suitor brave enough to seek her hand. She was beautiful, learned, and impossibly composed like a portrait of elegance carved into flesh: high cheekbones, a sharp sculpted jawline, and those piercing jade-green eyes that caught and held attention like a hook.
Lucrezia felt a pang of envy that she instantly scolded herself for. How could a human—once considered the "lesser kind"—carry such poise, beauty, and power so effortlessly?
Looking at the most-talked-about ladies in all lands almost felt like talking to a Monarch. Years ago, she would've never dreamt or imagined a day like this would come, however, Lucrezia couldn't help but question what she was doing here.
And she was dressed… in a way that felt really odd, extremely different from how she was looked upon. This one seemed… seductive?
A thought rushed into her but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Of course, her husband wasn't a man but a creature of Sin. This union lacked any vows, and that included sleeping with other ladies as a prohibition. He was free to do whatever he chose to, but not to her favor. Mercy was this marriage, and favor was the fact that he wouldn't hurt her, and it was more than enough for Lucrezia.
Something fierce curled within her chest, making her stomach seem heavy in something she couldn't name. W-What was that?
Instead, she masked it with a courtly smile—or so she hoped—staring at those jade-green eyes. As Anastasia, she had to act like her, but the constant pretense was something she wouldn't imagine getting used to.
"Pleasure to meet you, Lady Agnes. I do hope your journey wasn't quite a hassle, and the roads were… merciful,"
"It was indeed," Lady Agnes replied, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes narrowing with something between interest and challenge. "Although, I must admit, I didn't expect my welcome to include finding the infamous Lady Anastasia of Dreadwyn rummaging through someone's study,"
Lucrezia froze, merely because she was being referred to as "infamous," but the way she was looked down upon was like being treated like a pest.
Yes, she disliked her step-sister, but that didn't mean she adored someone insulting her.
The state struck her nerves raw, and she tried—indeed, tried—to force her expression to remain still and disinterested, the way Anastasia would have looked. She had practised that icy mask for days but wearing it seemed like swallowing fire.
"My husband," Lucrezia corrected in a low tone, hoping it came off as frost instead of fear. It was supposed to feel plain, but instead, the word elicited something strange in her, that she wished she could take back.
The smile on Lady Agnes's face instantly wore off, replaced with a cold, indecipherable look. If her sister Anastasia looked callous and cold, Lady Agnes appeared far worse. But that expression disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Of course," She forced a smile and lifted her chin slightly. "Clearly, you don't have to take permission to invade his study as his wife. What's his is yours,"
Lucrezia was going to ask what she was doing here, but bit her lips instead. The last thing she wanted was to act concerned when she didn't.
The only truth she found in her words was the fact that she was indeed "invading". It seemed like the Lady figured out he wasn't aware, and the manner in which her pulse thrummed wildly confirmed it.
"Is there… anything I can help you with?" Lucrezia asked instead, trying to stabilize the pace of her heart beating so fast.
Perhaps because she had been caught spying in a place she wasn't supposed to be. Who knew how long she'd been standing there to observe how she slipped that ring into her elbow-length sleeve?
Lady Agnes drifted past Lucrezia with her gown brushing across the floor, and moved across the room in elegant, predatory strides as her fingertips glided over the Lord's desk as though she owned it. "Curiosity is never an intrusion, Lady Anastasia. Don't get me wrong," Her voice dropped into a silken murmur. "It's just… expensive. When you have it, you feel victorious, but in the end, you'll realize all you gathered wasn't knowledge but ideas. Facts which lead to curiosity, and that which kills a cat,"
Lucrezia didn't like her one bit. It wasn't just the manner she spoke—so straight and cold—but somehow, the way she acted like the manor, the estate, the land, and… him, they were all hers.
And now she looked, really looked, Lucrezia realized the huge similarities between them. Both were powerful, and seemed to be just a perfect match.
That same thing curled her chest, and she inhaled. With a ghost smile, "It was a pleasure getting to know you, Lady Agnes. If you will excuse me, I have other pressing matters to attend to,"
The last thing she wanted was to have a conversation as this. And without waiting for her response, Lucrezia turned, walking away quietly as she came, her footsteps soft against the stone floor.
As soon as the door shut behind her, the smile on Lady Agnes's face disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing but a cold unrecognizable mask, and a tinge of contempt in those jade-green eyes.
***
She should've gone to her chambers but something within her restricted the confinement of it, and she sought the garden.
As much as she disliked the thought of wandering unnecessarily, in the blink of an eye, five months could elapse.
However, it was the beauty of this manor which made her assume so. Lucrezia was one hundred percent sure she wouldn't wander if it was indeed a land filled with human bones, and she was nearly there when the quietness fractured.
"Milady," Edhira's voice called out to her and she turned, meeting those warm brown eyes. "I've been searching for you…"
"What's happening?" She asked instead, cutting her off, and the young maid's eyes drifted towards the little commotion below.
"Oh, that," She started. "A spy was caught on the western ridge earlier today,"
A spy? Lucrezia thought.
As if to prove her right, she heard voices floating from the courtyard below, strong with that familiar unsettling sense of something wrong, and she followed the path through the corridor.
"Shall we begin the tour from the—Milady?" Edhira called after her, gathering her skirt as she chased after the young mistress who deflected from their original path towards the commotion below.
Lucrezia halted, pressing herself to the wall near the window, until the voices became clearer. Then, there was another sound like a snarl—a low rumble of something neither human nor tame—and she edged closer.
Outside, the courtyard was alive with motion as six guards stood behind a beast as it writhed and snapped, baring its fangs dripping with saliva and bloodlust eyes. They didn't try to hold it, but it seemed it was withheld by an invincible magic, judging from its monstrous strength despite the deep gashes marring its white fur.
From her angle, she caught the full view of the beast; tall as a man even on its knees, shoulders broad, and claws gouging the cobblestone as it fought, struggling to gain leverage.
The beast was no other than a werewolf. And it was… young.
Lucrezia's heart picked up it pace and she held her breath. There was something strangely familiar about the presence, and as if it heard her, those glacial red eyes turned and fixed on hers, and her blood chilled.
Madelyn.