Chapter 5 · Move it!

He was standing on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, draped in white silk that cost more than a hundred slaves' lives. He looked healthy. He looked divine. He looked like the man who had stolen my soul and called it a gift. He was laughing at something a subordinate was saying, his golden marrow radiating a soft, arrogant glow through his skin.

I stopped dead. The crate in my arms felt like a feather. The world around me blurred into a tunnel of red.

*Kill him,* the Bone whispered. *Rip the gold from his spine. Feast.*

I could feel my fingernails digging into the wood of the crate. I wanted to scream. I wanted to leap up that balcony and tear his eyes out.

"Move it!" a guard barked, slamming a spear butt into my shoulder.

I gasped, the impact jarring me back to reality. I stumbled forward, my head bowed, but my mind was a storm. I didn't look at Victor again. I couldn't. If I looked at him now, I would give myself away.

"You're slow," a voice murmured beside me.

I glanced over. It was another slave, an older man with a milky eye and a permanent limp. He was staring at me with a mixture of pity and suspicion.

"I'm fine," I snapped.

"You're not fine," the old man whispered, leaning in. "You've got that look. The look of a man who thinks he can fight the tide. Trust me, kid. The tide always wins here. Just be a dog. Dogs live longer."

"I'm not a dog," I muttered, barely audible.

"That's why you'll be dead by morning," he replied, and moved away before the guards could notice us talking.

As the sun began to dip, casting long, jagged shadows across the stone, I was ordered to the servants' quarters—a damp, subterranean hole that smelled of mildew and old sweat. I collapsed onto my straw mat, my body trembling.

But the Bone wouldn't let me rest.

It was vibrating now, a low-frequency thrum that echoed in my skull. It wasn't just hunger anymore. It was recognition. The Bone knew something. It knew that someone else in this fortress carried a forbidden frequency.

I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, when the heavy iron door of the quarters groaned open.

Footsteps. Precise. Confident.

I didn't move. I stayed curled on the mat, pretending to be asleep. The footsteps stopped right beside me. I could smell that jasmine and steel again.

Sela.

I felt her presence looming over me, a cold weight in the air. She didn't speak for a long time. Then, the tip of her boot nudged my side, not hard, but enough to let me know she knew I was awake.

"I've seen a lot of broken things, Cain," she said, her voice a low, dangerous purr in the dark. "But you... you don't smell like a broken thing. You smell like a secret."

I opened one eye. She was leaning down, her face inches from mine. In the dim light, her eyes looked like polished obsidian.

"I'm just a slave," I whispered.

Sela smiled, and it wasn't a kind expression. It was the smile of a wolf who had just found a scent. She reached down, her fingers brushing the edge of my collar, then slid down to touch the skin of my chest, right where the Devouring Bone lay hidden.

I stiffened. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through me, and the Bone responded with a violent surge of heat. Sela's eyes widened. She felt it. She felt the forbidden power humming beneath my ribs.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear.

"Tell me what you are," she whispered, "and maybe I'll decide not to kill you tonight."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because in that moment, the Bone didn't just whisper. It screamed.

*Eat her.*

My hand shot up, grabbing her wrist in a grip that was far too strong for a slave. I pulled her down, bringing her face inches from mine, the powerlessness of the last few hours evaporating in a flash of pure, predatory instinct.

Sela didn't flinch. She didn't even look surprised. She just looked... interested.

"There he is," she murmured.

Suddenly, the door to the quarters slammed open. A guard stood there, torch in hand.

"General! The High Lord demands your presence immediately!"

Sela didn't move for a second. She kept her wrist in my grip, her eyes locked on mine. Then, she slowly pried my fingers off her skin, one by one.

"Go back to sleep, dog," she said, standing up and smoothing her uniform. "We aren't finished. Not by a long shot."

As she walked away, she paused at the door. She didn't look back, but her voice drifted back to me, cold and promising.

"Tomorrow, we see if you're a wolf or just a very loud sheep."

I lay back on the straw, my heart hammering against my ribs. The Bone was still vibrating, still hungry. I looked up at the ceiling, at the darkness that felt like a shroud.

I whispered to the empty room, a promise that tasted like blood:

"Your turn to be eaten."