THE WOLF’S VICTIM
Copyright 2015 Neva Teal
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Cover image by Brenda Clarke
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
OTHER BOOKS
CHAPTER 1
Tamlyn runs, faster and faster. She has very little time, very little time. She needs to be fast.
She had left the castle where she had spent her entire life - no more than 19 years -, took her horse and rode into the forest. In the other side of it he awaited. Him. Her husband to be. The Prince had no more than twenty years old and they both were keeping it a secret. Marriages were never decided by the youngsters, but their families. Nonetheless they were to be married. Tamlyn couldn’t wait any longer. She had to see him; she had to see the Prince.
She arrived after two hours of ferocious galloping. The horse was exhausted. There was no moon, luckily, and the gods were aiding her. Few sentinels were present. The castle was smaller than her family’s however that did not matter to her. The Prince was to be her husband. The Prince and no one else.
She slid through the secret underground passage. He told her once, when he himself, months ago, sneaked away to meet her in the middle of the night, swearing everlasting love and desire. Their bodies met for the first and only time and Tamlyn wished she had become with child - even if it could mean her death. But the blood came, as always, so there was no excuse to hasten a marriage (one they both felt it had already happened in their hearts).
So a secret, this love, remained.
She couldn’t bear any longer. She had to see him.
The stairs were long and twisted. Her heart pounded while lifting the torch high to spread the little light available. Everything smelled ghastly. The walls were covered in awful, stinking moist. It took a long time to get up the tiny stairs and then trough a miniscule corridor, she had to shrink back and watch careful not to misstep.
Finally Tamlyn exited the long, nauseous passageway.
Her heart full of joy, she hastily walked, her feet almost not touching the ground, to the Prince’s quarters.
She knew where they were located. The only celebration they both attended - months ago - was the day Tamlyn met him and he took her to his accommodations. They just sat and quietly spoke. It was an enchanted day.
There it was, the door, in front of her. Her heart was ready to burst from her chest, filled with pleasure.
Quietly she entered. It was unlocked. The whole castle slept. She was going to surprise him with a virginal kiss and then they’d be together all night. In the morning she’d slip back and return home. Love makes you do crazy things.
As Tamlyn entered the room she noticed quiet whisperers, murmurs and sighs that first she tough came from the furniture, the normal sounds of a house, of a building, a castle so ancient (more than 700 years, she knew. Nanny was quite malignant with her History lessons, if Tamlyn didn’t know everything at the tip of her tongue, she’d be beaten with a stick. Nanny was dreadfully efficient). But soon Tamlyn realized these were not the sighs of a house, awake as their masters were asleep. They seemed made by humans. She got closer to the dossal bed, covered from head to toe. Slowly she took aside one of the curtains and saw, painfully, who was making those sighs: her beloved and his own uncle, fifteen years his senior.
Her eyes widened in shock and pain.
“Tamlyn! Tamlyn, wait!” he cried but it was too late. The torch, having almost no light, fell to the ground and she ran, crying, back to the secret passage.
This time it took considerable less time to go through it. Suddenly she was outside, the dark covering almost everything. She couldn’t find the horse so she ran and ran. The horse had a mischievous nature and a bad temper. It probably untangled itself and had left, back to the castle.
Now she had to do the long way back - by foot.
How could she have been so, so very stupid? How could she?!
Idiot, idiot Tamlyn. She cried and run, her tears taking away the little visibility she still had.
Soon she saw she was lost in the middle of the forest, having no clue where to go and where to turn.
Devastated, she sat on a rock and cried her heart out. It was all a lie. He never loved her! She had risked everything to meet him, to surprise the Prince and he had never loved her to begin with! He lied! How could he, how could he! Bastard, filthy bastard.
No more sobbing. No more tears, she decided. Those were the very last she had ever shed for a man. From then on no more tears for any man. They were undeserving.
Tamlyn stood up, her dress mangled, the bottom of it covered in dirt; her lengthy, beautiful blond hair a mess and her own hands, always white, with long nails covered in golden polish, now where dirty and broken.
Behave as a princess, even though you’re not, Nanny used to say. Yes, thought Tamlyn, shaking, I shall behave as one. She started walking slowly, repressing her anger and fear, trying to find her way back home. Nanny will be so angry. The king will order her to beat me severely, as a teaching. She won’t be able to rise for days, Nanny will make damn sure of it. Outside was forbidden. Outside, on her on never, only with others, the Nanny, the King and the King’s vassals. She felt trapped on that damned castle most of the time. If she had been a common woman she would enjoy a higher degree of freedom. However every single movement Tamlyn did was watched closely by because she was the King’s niece and the blood connection made her part of the royal family even though she had no title herself (only the male monarch passed the title, either to daughter or son. Her own mother was a princess, the king’s sister, but she herself, her father having no title to pass over to her, was no princess). Such fact never caused any ache or distress. She never cared. People were aware she possessed very light to no power but still, from time to time, Tamlyn saw fear on their eyes every time they happen to gaze upon Tamlyn a moment longer than usual. The source of the fear was impossible to know. The Nanny, perhaps? Everyone was afraid of the Nanny! She needed no title to entice it on others. If Tamlyn was bothered or hurt in any way, by anyone, Nanny would go after them. So, basically, Tamlyn was treated with quiet indifference, a somewhat detached disdain, being mostly left alone, to her own devices. She had no friends, despite her beauty, good manners and somewhat pleasant personality. No one ventured get close to her and, more hurtful than that, no one cared enough to get close and build a basic friendship. That was not forbidden. Friendship was a sacred bond of their society. It was encouraged, not matter if it was produced between a man and a woman, even of different class. The class always took precedence, of course, but friendship could still flourish. The King himself called a humble fisherman a friend - and likewise the fisherman would speak, gently, of his “friend, the King”.
But Tamlyn had no allies or friendship associations. No one wanted to come close. One time, she was twelve, she tried to befriend one of the vassals daughter, a girl she truly admired for her courageous spirit and ever glowing joy. The 14 year old girl immediately adopted a stance of cold detachment and her whole demeanor spoke loudly of her intentions: I have no wish to befriend you. Leave me be.
After that Tamlyn never tried again. She just lived from day to day, learning her lessons, until that blessed night when her heart was awaken by the Prince.
And now back to the darkness she was.
> So she walked, slowly but surely, adopting a facade of no pain or pleasure and with that look she would face the King’s and Nanny’s punishment. It would be endless hours walking across the dark, gloomy woods. No matter. She was Tamlyn, of royal blood, her ancestors suffered more than she.
However the more she walked, the more lost she made herself.
Tamlyn stopped, trying to figure out which way to go when, out of the blue, she saw him: a thin man, very tall and extremely white. It was as if the glow inhabiting the night shined trough him. He laid on the ground, not moving, dressed in a white man’s long shirt and in gashed black trousers. What a strange sight. The attire was of a type she had never seen. His hair, she saw when she moved closer, slowly, hiding behind the trees, was gray. He, however, appeared to be young. Only men of more than a hundred years held gray hair. She herself had only encountered two in her entire life. And yet here he lies, appearing to be a man of no more than thirty, displaying gray hair! It was impossible and yet Tamlyn was witnessing it with her own eyes.
Maybe he needs help, she reflected. However something in her prevented to go and take a closer look and perhaps aid the poor man. He was so very white. So pale. The light seemed, suddenly she realized with a fright, to emanate from his very skin. She held back and veiled herself better. Always trust your gut, said Nanny.
Unexpectedly the stranger’s eyes opened. They were blue as crystals and pierced trough the dark - in her direction. A shiver travelled down her spine. The man tried to rise from the floor however his efforts were futile.
“Please, help. Help me. I know you are there. Please...!” he begged. His voice was deep and low and had very little strength left. Her gut was still saying to keep away but she could not refuse a call begging assistance. Help those in need was one of the most revered virtues of the kingdom, of the whole society.
She stepped away from the tree, lifting the bottom of her pink gown so she could walk.
“Come closer...” he asked, his voice a failing whisper. “Help me up. Please.”
Tamlyn kneeled near him and extended her arm when, out of the blue, the eyes glared a blue light she had never seen before, and the canines grow in his mouth. With extraordinary force he pulled her neck towards him and pricked the flesh with his teeth.
“Aaaarghhh!” Tamlyn screamed. In the next moment her neck was freed. She saw the stranger struggling with a woman.
Tamlyn ran and quickly stopped hearing the fight.
It was imperative she’d find her way home straightaway!