Claimed by the Lycan Triplets

Fire

Chapter 8

Annalise

The next class was Strategic Cognition and Predatory Reasoning, better known as Wolven Instinctual Intelligence. It was designed to sharpen the mind as much as the body, focusing on quick thinking, problem-solving, and tactical decision-making, all vital skills for wolves navigating hostile environments.

I arrived early, determined to refocus after the chaotic morning. But my plans unraveled the moment I walked in and saw him.

Sylus.

Unlike Cassian, Sylus carried himself with a composed air, his every movement deliberate and regal. He stood at the front of the room as Professor Althar introduced him to the class with exaggerated fanfare.

“Our esteemed guest, His Highness Sylus Eltharion Lucarius, has graciously joined us today,” Professor Althar announced, his voice brimming with admiration. “Please offer him the respect he is due.”

I felt my stomach churn as Professor Althar’s eyes landed on me. “Miss Annalise, if you would.”

My jaw tightened, but I bowed, a shallow, reluctant gesture, my teeth gritted the entire time.

Sylus’s icy gaze flicked to me, his expression unreadable. Unlike Cassian, he didn’t smirk, didn’t taunt. Instead, he gave me a polite nod, acknowledging my bow with detached formality before moving to his seat—a throne-like chair at the back of the room, raised slightly higher than the others.

I sat near the middle, keeping my head low. Sylus didn’t sit near me, and I felt a small, fleeting relief at the distance.

Once everyone was seated, Professor Althar began. “Today, we delve into the complexities of survival within the Forest of Death—a territory known for its unpredictable terrain, hostile predators, and natural obstacles.” He paced the room, his sharp eyes scanning the students. “Let’s discuss strategies. If you were to face an opponent ambushing you from higher ground, what would be your approach?”

I raised my hand immediately.

“Miss Annalise.”

“Higher ground offers a positional advantage,” I said confidently. “But it also requires the opponent to expose themselves to launch an attack. I’d use speed and misdirection to force them into overextending, then close the gap before they could reposition.”

The professor nodded, seemingly pleased. But before he could comment, Sylus spoke.

“An effective strategy,” he said, his tone cool and analytical. “Assuming, of course, you’re faster than your opponent. But what if they’re just as quick—or quicker? By closing the gap recklessly, you might end up walking straight into a secondary trap.”

A few students murmured their agreement, and I bit back a retort.

Professor Althar pressed on. “Next scenario: You’re tracking prey but encounter a dangerous predator instead. How do you proceed?”

Another student answered first this time. “Avoid the predator and circle back for the prey later.”

“Avoidance is wise,” Sylus remarked, his voice measured, “but it’s also short-sighted. If the predator becomes aware of your presence, you’ve not only lost your prey but might find yourself the hunted. A calculated confrontation may be unavoidable.”

I raised my hand again, my frustration bubbling.

“Yes, Miss Annalise?”

“Confrontation isn’t always the answer,” I argued. “A skilled tracker could manipulate the terrain to mislead both predator and prey, creating an opening to escape unnoticed.”

Sylus leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp. “And if the predator anticipates such manipulation? Creatures in the Forest of Death aren’t simple beasts; they adapt. Your strategy relies too much on the assumption that you can outwit something inherently designed for survival.”

The professor interjected, steering the discussion forward, but the pattern continued. Every time I answered, Sylus countered with calm, infuriating logic, his remarks laced with an almost surgical precision.

By the time the class ended, I was bristling with irritation. Not because of Sylus—at least, not entirely.

I was annoyed with myself.

I had faltered, hesitated in my reasoning when I needed to be sharp. If I couldn’t outthink Sylus here, how would I ever surpass the challenges ahead?

As I left the classroom, I clenched my fists, determined. I couldn’t let this happen again. If I wanted to win, I needed to be better.

Stronger.

Smarter.

.

.

.

In the battleground, I was focused, my anger sharpening every move, every strike. The tension from the morning still gnawed at me, and this was my escape—training, pushing myself to the edge, letting the fire in my chest burn itself out. That fire, though, wasn’t dying. It was only fueled by the thoughts of the Princes and their endless arrogance.

A sudden voice startled me, a familiar one, and I reacted without thinking. My instincts took over as I whirled around, tackling the figure to the ground and pinning them beneath me. My dagger was at their throat before I even registered who it was.

“Lucien,” I breathed, my stomach twisting as I realized it was him staring up at me, his green eyes wide but soft with worry.

I threw the dagger aside as if it burned me and scrambled back, still straddling him awkwardly. His hands were on my waist, steadying me.

“You’re a great fighter, Annalise,” he said with a soft smile, brushing his fiery red hair out of his face. I muttered an apology, heat rising to my cheeks as I scrambled to my feet, pulling him up with me.

Lucien stood there, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask about Willow. She hasn’t been around.”

The mention of her name made my mood sour further. “She’s sick,” I said shortly. “She’ll be back soon.”

His smile flickered, and then the dreaded question came. “So... you and the Princes... are you friends or something?” His tone was light, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes.

Before I could answer, an authoritative voice cut through the air, making us both turn. “We’re more than that, right, Aurora?”

Dane strode toward us, his presence as imposing as ever. His black armor gleamed in the sunlight, though it bore the scuffs and dents of a hard-fought session. A shallow cut adorned his cheek, and I froze as I watched it visibly shrink, healing before my eyes. The sight sent a chill down my spine—he hadn’t shifted yet, and still, his royal Alpha blood made him... different.

Lucien stiffened beside me, his hands curling into fists. I saw him glance at my hands, his expression shifting into something uncertain. “You... know them?” he asked quietly, disbelief lacing his voice.

Before I could defend myself, Dane answered for me. “She’s not obliged to tell you anything,” he said smoothly, his deep voice carrying an edge of mockery. “But I must admit, Aurora, I’m hurt. You never told anyone about our intimate games?”

I wanted to disappear. My heart sank as I saw Lucien’s face, a mixture of confusion and something sharper.

“Her name is Annalise,” Lucien said, his voice low but firm as he turned to face Dane. Though taller than most, Lucien still had to look up slightly to meet Dane’s gaze. Realizing his lapse in etiquette, he bowed stiffly. “Your Highness.”

“Leave,” Dane said coldly, the authority in his tone absolute.

Lucien hesitated, his jaw tightening, but he obeyed, turning and walking away without another word. I hated how his fists stayed clenched as he left.

“How dare you talk to him like that?” I hissed, rounding on Dane. My anger, already at its limit, boiled over. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes watching me with the same predatory intensity as a wolf about to pounce on its prey.

“You’re awfully touchy about the redhead,” Dane remarked, his gaze flicking to Lucien’s retreating figure before settling back on me. His smirk widened, cold and cruel.

I refused to back down. “This isn’t your palace, Dane. This is Thavlion. Out here, we’re all equals—warriors—and that includes you.”

Dane’s expression darkened, but that infuriating smile didn’t leave his face. “Quite the speech,” he said mockingly. “If you’re so adamant about equality, then how about a little sparring match? Just you and me, Aurora. Do you dare?”

His hand reached out, his long fingers brushing against my cheek. I slapped his hand away, stepping back and meeting his gaze head-on.

“Dare?” I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to shut you up since you got here. Get into position, Your Highness, or is that royal pride of yours just for show?”

Dane’s laughter was low and dangerous, but he stepped back, his movements fluid as he rolled his shoulders and prepared to fight. “Let’s see if that fire of yours is worth anything,” he said.

I took my stance, grounding myself. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him one.