I don't cry.

Since as far back as I could remember, I have not shed a single tear. Had not even considered it, never felt anything but pure rage.

In Blood Lake, nobody cries.

We fight, we yell, we do not cry.

However, sitting in the Lycan King's office, his scent assaulting my nose with a vengeance, not a single window in sight, my mother's voice still fresh in my mind, all I want to do is curl into a ball and sob.

Never show weakness, I hear my mother's voice.

Weak, I hear his voice stabbing through my brain, and I wince.

But then I remember what my father told me, many years ago, after I had been brutally taken down during training, bruises coating every inch of my skin, blood pouring out of my nose.

Dad, will I ever be an Alpha? Young, I was too young to understand the complexities behind pack politics, that I was never meant to rule over anyone, not like him, not like North.

You are strong enough to be whatever you want, Drakon, he had said, ruffling my hair, wiping blood from my nose. You can be anything you want. But you cannot be weak.

I straighten my spine at the memory.

The one rule my parents had was to never be weak.

They raised me better than this.

I'm done being weak.

Rising to my feet, shoulders squared, head held high, I leave the Lycan King's office.

There are three guards waiting outside, staring at me with blank expressions.

"Send my lady in waiting to my quarters," I command one of them, using the self-assured voice that my mother only ever speaks in. I pause.

"Tell her to bring clothes I can train in."

****

I stare at myself in the mirror.

I wear black fighting gear, soft pants and a long sleeve shirt. My dark brown hair is pulled back with multiple braids in the front, ending in one long one down my back.

Blood Lake braids.

You can be anything you want, but you cannot be weak.

I try not to stare too long at the golden necklace around my throat.

My collar.

"Wow, how did you learn to braid like that?" Camilla asks in wonder, looking at my hair. "And on yourself, no less."

"My mother," I say shortly. "It is the hairstyle we wear when we go to war."

Camilla laughs, though it sounds more nervous than humored. "Do you plan on going to war?"

I smile, showing more of my teeth than necessary. "I'm already in one."

I hear Camilla's heart skip a beat, but I ignore her as I leave the room.

"Take me to wherever you train," I order one of the guards standing outside. I may have left North and my dad in Blood Lake, but I only succeeded in trading them for more babysitters.

The guard hesitates. "Your Highness-"

"Your Highness, King Nikolai, told me I was free to roam the castle as long as I do not leave the grounds. Does training occur on the grounds?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"Then you will take me there," I command, though I can't imagine the Lycan King will be too pleased with this turn of events. "Or you can explain to the King why you decided to overrule your superior's orders."

The guard blanches, but quickly recovers. "Yes, your Highness."

The guard, in addition to four others, escort me through the castle to a new section I had not been in yet. There's a large room with tiled floors, where weapons line the walls, and large men spar with each other.

I smile at the biggest one in attendance, one I recognize.

"Hello, Gregor."

"Lady Drakon," He bows, but I see a coldness in his eyes before he bows his head. "I am surprised to see you here."

"I could use the exercise, those gowns can be mighty tight in the waist," I say sweetly.

His eyes narrow slightly.

"Părăsi," He says loudly, and immediately, the room clears.

"What are you playing at, Drakon?" Gregor hisses, taking long strides towards me until he's only a foot away.

I don't flinch, though he towers over me.

"I was told," I begin, keeping my tone light. "That I am allowed anywhere in the castle. Is this room in the castle not in the castle?"

His jaw clenches, and he stares at me, like he's sizing me up. "You want to fight against a Lycan, Drakon?" His voice takes on a mocking edge. "Not even your Alpha bloodline will be enough to win."

Without warning, I punch his face, making his nose produce a satisfying crunching sound.

"Bloodlines," I correct. "I am from two Alpha bloodlines."

He brings his hand to his nose, pulling it away after a moment and examining the blood that coats it. He laughs mirthlessly.

"If Nik kills me for this, it will have been worth it," He says coldly.

He swings at my head.

Ducking, I throw a punch of my own at his stomach, but he dodges it easily. We throw punches back and forth, and his fighting style is unlike anything I've ever seen before.

If he was slower, I would have been able to block more of the swings, but his movements are so quick, I often don't even realize I've been hit until a few seconds later, when there's searing pain in my muscles.

It doesn't take long until one particularly hard kick to my chest sends me flying backwards, my head smacking against the tile as my back hits the floor.

My vision goes black momentarily, and I feel the bones of my sternum collapsing in my chest.

I sit up, touching the back of my head, and sure enough, when I look at my hand, it's soaking in blood.

"Again," I tell him, getting to my feet.

Gregor looks at me in shock. "You cannot be serious."

"Again."

He looks doubtful, but that look is quickly wiped off his face once I kick him square in the chest, feeling bones break underneath my foot.

This makes him stumble backwards, but not fall. He lunges forward, punching at my stomach, but I dodge it, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down until he's hunched over, and I knee him in the chest.

Unfortunately, I didn't account for his strength, far stronger than anyone I have ever sparred against, including North, and he easily rips his arm out of my grasp and grabs my own arm, twisting us around and shoving me to the floor face-first.

Pain floods my shoulder like a tidal wave, but it's nothing I haven't felt before.

It feels like my arm has been completely torn off.

"La dracu," He says under his breath, and immediately his weight is removed off my back.

Flipping over and sitting up, I look at my shoulder, and see my arm hanging loosely at the socket.

"Do not move, I will bring a healer," Gregor says, and I hear his heart race as he takes a step towards the door.

"No," I say calmly, and he freezes, looking at me with wide eyes.

I rebreak my shoulder, already feeling the bones begin to mend incorrectly, and shove my arm back into its socket, sweat dripping down my forehead.

People of Alpha blood are taught from a young age how to set bones and make sure they heal correctly, our healing abilities too quick most times for the injury to heal properly. If the bone isn't immediately broken correctly, the healing is incredibly uncomfortable, and we just end up having to break it again later.

I had broken more of my own bones than I could count.

"Did you just... rebreak the bone and set it?" He asks slowly, his face twisting slightly.

"Do you know of a better way to fix a dislocated shoulder?" I snap.

His eyes widen even more. "No, but... you just did it yourself."

"Sorry, would you like to do it next time?" I ask drily.

He opens his mouth, but then closes it, pressing his lips together.

You cannot be weak.

"Again," I tell him.

****

After my sixth or seventh time having Gregor brutally pin me, often times breaking a bone or five in the process, I felt confident that I made the right choice in not telling my mother about the Lycan King.

Lycans are truly strong.

Not in the way Alphas are strong. Lycans are in their own category.

"Are you sure you do not need a healer?" Gregor asks for the billionth time, looking at me dubiously as I pull myself off the ground, rebreaking my nose for the second time today.

"Does it seem like I need a healer?"

His lips press together tightly before he speaks. "I heard you were from a warmongering pack," He says finally. "I did not believe it until now."

"All werewolves are warmongering," I say flatly.

"I have come across many werewolves," He says slowly. "They did not behave this way."

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean." I'm sure those words are offensive, so I take offense to them.

He looks at me analytically, and once again, his lips press together, like he's holding something back.

Gregor shakes his head slightly before turning towards the door. However, before leaving, he turns back to look at me, and the coldness that was present when I first arrive slightly thawed.

"If you wish to continue doing this," He says lowly. "Do not tell the King."

Surprised by his almost-invitation to continue training with him, I nod, and he stalks off without another word.

Slowly, and because no one is there to see it...

A genuine grin spreads across my face.

***

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