Chapter 5: The Southern Gate

The Lycan King was waiting at the Academy gate when the Guard's car pulled in at dawn.

I knew who he was before anyone said it.

His face was on every coin in the world.

He stood alone under the stone arch in a black coat, with his hands behind his back and no guards within ten feet of him.

Captain Ferris turned off the engine and let out a low whistle.

"Huh."

"What?" I said.

"He has never once come down to meet a cadet," she said. "Not in nine years."

I had slept on the Guard's plane with my head against the window and my bag in my arms.

Somewhere over the middle of the country, Ferris's phone had rung and she had put it on speaker.

It was Dad, shouting at the capital desk.

He said his daughter had run off and was lying about being invited anywhere, and he wanted her returned to him by morning.

I told Ferris to let it ring.

She had smiled for the first time and hung up on him.

Now she nudged my arm.

"Come on, Carrow. Chin up."

I got out of the car with my one small bag.

The air was hot already, even at dawn, and it smelled like dust and cut grass.

The King came down the steps to meet me.

He was tall, thirty at most, with black hair and grey eyes.

A burn scar ran along his left forearm where his sleeve was pushed back.

He stopped one step too close.

Then he breathed in.

It was a slow, plain, deliberate breath, and I felt every cadet on the lawn behind him stop talking.

His jaw went hard.

His hand closed at his side, and I saw the knuckles pale.

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