Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I t lingers; the small kiss Killian placed on my nape as he finished tying the tiny knot at the crest of my dress’s bodice. The way his hands smoothed over my shoulders afterward. The way he kissed me again as I stepped into the passageway between our rooms, as if he needed another taste before he could let me go.
My skin shivers with his touch, memories and warm emotion swirling through my mind and dragging me back into bed with him.
When I reach my room, my heart is still thrumming. I nearly trip over my dress as I step inside. My mind is scattered as I clumsily disentangle myself from my ball gown and slip into uniform. Then I take off my mother’s opal necklace and tuck it into a safe place in my closet, wondering when I’ll ever have an occasion to wear such a precious thing again.
I pause in the middle of fastening my hair, mind drifting back to Killian’s fingers in it, pulling just roughly enough that my entire body trembled with the knowledge that I was his.
Biting the inside of my cheek lightly, I finish readying myself for the day, even though I want to linger in this place. I want to trick myself into believing that his arms are still around me.
As I move to step out into the Strategos anteroom, I finally lower the wall between me and Anassa.
The instant I do, horrible emotion floods my heart and streaks through my veins. My bones are heavy. My blood is on fire. There’s a vacancy in my chest like someone’s carved out all my organs and left the cavity exposed in a howling winter wind.
The worst part is that I’ve felt something like this before. When I was younger.
When Dad…
It’s grief. From the entire pack, all impacting me at once.
And beyond that, rage. Anassa’s anger impacts me like a devouring wildfire, incinerating everything that’s left after the grief. I choke and thud against the wall, using it to keep my balance as my vision falters.
Anassa’s voice is a savage, spitting sound. “While your pack suffered, you blocked us out for human pleasure.”
Those last two words cause a sickening lump to form in my throat, like the mere thought makes her want to vomit. I grunt and grip my head. I want to defend myself, but it’s difficult to even remember my own name through this storm of emotion.
Blinking rapidly, I straighten just in time to see Egith standing in the center of the room, her expression devastated. All around her, my packmates are in various states of distress. Some look despondent. Some look furious. Some weep quietly.
The warm, safe, happy room I was in last night is very, very far away all of a sudden.
“Where have you been?” Egith asks cooly. I flinch at the edge in her voice. Everyone turns to look at me. Everyone .
“I…” I manage to force past the lump in my throat. But whatever pathetic defense I was about to mount, it dies and rots in my throat when I see Izabel’s face.
She’s crying. Her grief finds me through the pack bond. It’s a question, asked over and over. What now? What now?
The words are like bone-breaking blows. Anassa’s continued fury burns down the garden Killian planted in my heart. Izabel’s tears salt the earth.
Egith straightens, her dark eyes tired. “Last night, during a Siphon assault in Grunfall, Strategos Alpha Markos was killed.”
My mind reels as the wave of grief rises up in me again, spreading across the bond. Alpha Markos Blackwood—the leader of our whole pack. Egith’s direct superior, with whom she’s probably very close.
When the leader in charge of our strategy is killed… what happens to the war?
“What?” I say, the word coming out choked. “How?”
At this, Egith’s lips purse and she crosses her arms over her chest. “I already gave the pack a full debrief. You missed it. I guess you were too busy… entertaining royals.”
The implication makes my face burn. I can see clearly what she’s thinking; what everyone here is thinking. That my relationship with Killian is no different from Audelie’s with the king. That I’m spreading my legs to improve my standing in the social hierarchy here.
My eyes dart over to Izabel. She looks away. Fuck , does she think that, too?
Anassa bites at my consciousness, gnawing at the open wounds.
Around me, the smiles of my packmates who were enjoying the ball just hours ago are gone, replaced by grimaces and narrowed eyes. They’re looking at me differently.
They see me as some callous ladder-climber who would shut out her pack for a chance to impress the crown. Status is important here, but the pack comes first, always. And people who can’t understand that won’t make it through training; I’ve learned that lesson well.
Grief rolls through the pack bond again, a hurt which now encroaches like a deadly illness, infiltrating every part of me.
My hands start to tremble, and I have to clutch them into fists to hide it.
Egith steps closer to me, so close that I can make out her pupils and feel her body heat. Her voice carries a warning, pitched low so only I can hear her.
“The Sovereign Alpha herself is coming here from the front to discuss the situation with the king while the direwolves select our next leader. While she’s here, she’s going to expect to see that the Strategos Rawbonds are unified, cohesive. Ready to jump into battle when they graduate training. If she senses that anyone is not fitting into the pack at this juncture…”
She doesn’t finish her thought. She doesn’t have to.
The threat is astoundingly clear.
If I cannot mend my reputation with the pack, the Sovereign Alpha may take me out herself.
The next few days pass in a haze of confusion and mounting tension. The Sovereign Alpha is coming, and my pack is in mourning.
For me, Alpha Markos was a stranger. Through the pack bond and Anassa, I could sense a connection to him, but he was not an important figure to me personally. For the other Rawbonds, however, things are different. They grew up knowing who he was. Many of their parents are also Strategos who fought alongside him.
He was Kristof’s uncle. He was Egith’s close friend.
And the wolves are in disarray over the loss of their alpha wolf, Markos’s mount. The depth of their sorrow fills our heads at all times. I wish, desperately, that I could block some of it out. But I wouldn’t dare piss Anassa off again like that.
She’s still barely talking to me. I can’t find it in myself to try to diminish the blows she keeps giving me.
That night with Killian was perfect. I wouldn’t take it back, and a knot of anxiety that I’ve been carrying has disappeared, now that everyone knows about us. But the pack is still keeping their distance, and Izabel has been taking Anassa’s strategy—she’s frozen me out.
Egith maintains order efficiently, but everyone can sense that she’s waiting for the Sovereign Alpha to arrive. Today, we’re in group combat training with Phylax, overseen by Egith and Stark. We’re practicing swordplay on foot, giving the direwolves a rest.
It’s been unrelenting. Everyone’s trying to get a hit in on me. And when they’re not aiming for me, they’re testing Henrey, the only other common-born.
During a much needed break, I greedily gulp freezing water from my flask off to the side. There are a few other Strategos Rawbonds gossiping near me, but at arm’s length.
“I think it’s going to be Egith,” Pietr says quietly as he caps his flask.
Allegra cocks her head, staring at the Beta from across the training field. “You’re probably right. Is it always the second-in-command? I can’t remember.”
Pietr shrugs. “Usually. Unless there are special circumstances. Like, you know?—”
“Nepotism,” I mutter, looking at Stark. I haven’t forgotten that his mother is the fearsome Sovereign Alpha coming to terrify us all into good behavior. Pietr and Allegra shoot me irritated looks and stalk off.
“What was that about?” Henrey says, coming to take a break next to me at the wall, sweat beading on his forehead.
“My whole pack hates me, haven’t you heard?” I ask, trying to laugh it off. It stings, though.
Henrey reddens. “Well… yeah. I’ve heard some things, I guess. But ignore them, Meryn. You’re strong. That’ll win them over, in the end.”
I clap him on the back. “Thanks for taking time to chat with a friendship-starved outcast.”
He raises his water flask to me, a lopsided grin on his face. “We outcasts have to stick together.”
Re-energized, I cork my flask, tossing it down into the dirt in exchange for my sword. I spin it around my right hand and lift my head.
I don’t have to ask if Izabel is ready. She’s already advancing on me, brandishing her own blade. Her dark brown eyes are narrowed, black hair whipping out of its braid in the cold winter wind.
Sword practice on foot is infinitely easier than mounted practice. Normally, I’d probably be enjoying the methodical movements and the satisfying feeling of pushing my muscles to perform.
But not when my closest friend in this entire castle is trying to gut me in the training yard.
Izabel hits her sword against mine with enough strength that it reverberates through my arm. She has the upper hand, and she draws and parries again. And again.
I can’t get my footing quickly enough and she’s unrelenting.
She’s always been a better swordsperson than I am; she’s had a lifetime of training. Usually, though, she takes it kind of easy on me. She’ll pause and show me what I’m doing wrong, or let me get a few hits on her.
Not today.
She thwacks me in my right arm so hard that I drop my practice sword, and before I can even grab it, she sticks the tip of the practice sword under my chin.
“Dead,” she says, a bitter glint in her eyes.
I grab the dull wooden sword by the hilt and yank it from her hands, tossing it into the ground next to my own.
“What has gotten into you?” I hiss at her.
Izabel’s cheeks flush and she throws her hands up into the air. “Seriously? You don’t know?!”
“You’re upset I wasn’t around when Egith broke the news that Alpha Markos had died, just like everyone else. You think I prioritized my relationship over our pack.”
Izabel lets out a cry of irritation and grabs her sword out of the dirt, waving it at me again. “No, Meryn! I’m hurt . You hurt me! You’ve been hiding this relationship from me for months. I understand not wanting all the Rawbonds to know, but I’m your friend. Or at least I thought I was, but clearly not if you can’t trust me with the truth about who you’re seeing.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling suddenly foolish. Of course she’s hurt. That’s the most obvious thing in the world, probably. But all of this is new to me—not just this world, but having friends.
Guess I’m not a quick study.
Her eyes get glassy. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”
“No, Izabel,” I breathe, chest aching. “I?—”
Deafening horns sound over the training yard. They don’t sound like they’re coming from deep within the castle. The three loud blasts echo over the side of the mountain, from the south.
The castle gates, I realize.
The Sovereign Alpha has arrived.
Practice ends quickly after that, and we’re shuffled back toward Rawbond quarters. Izabel and I didn’t have a chance to finish our conversation. She stormed away as soon as she could, obviously very eager to put space between us.
No one knows when we’ll hear from the Sovereign Alpha. Presumably she’s going to commune with the king first, and then discuss the Strategos leadership with the wolves. The whole pack is antsy, even Egith. After a few minutes of pacing in the anteroom, she locks herself in her private quarters.
I’d like to do the same, frankly. I know I need to finish my conversation with Izabel, though. And she’s doing an impressive job of avoiding me. She’s not in the Strategos anteroom, nor is she in the bunkroom or the bathing area.
Next, I check the Rawbond common lounge, but she’s not one of the many people in there, either. I look around the room helplessly, and then my gaze lands on the door to the Kryptos quarters.
She’ll be in there, likely, hiding out with Venna. The two of them regularly go back and forth between each other’s pack quarters and no one blinks at it. They’re identical twins, after all—it would be strange to expect them to keep their distance.
For everyone else, though… it’s not the done thing. You don’t just go waltzing into another pack’s anteroom. Technically, there are no rules disallowing it, but I’ve never seen a non-Strategos other than Venna in our space.
Nicely played, Izabel.
Resolve bubbles up in my veins. We’re going to finish this fucking conversation, even if it makes a whole other pack hate me too.
In a few quick strides, I make my way through the common lounge and open the door to the Kryptos quarters. It looks identical to the Strategos anteroom; the same plush couches, the same fireplace. And there, in the center of it, sit Izabel and Venna.
A couple of the Kryptos Rawbonds sputter in indignation as I swiftly walk through their space. I don’t care.
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching the twins. I sign it, too, moving my hands in the way that Izabel and Venna showed me, in case Venna missed that. They’ve been teaching me some phrases in sign language when we have the time.
They’re unmoved. Izabel glances over to the tapestry on the wall and Venna crosses her arms, scowling.
I sit down at their feet—clearly, I’m unwelcome on the couch with them—and keep going, quietly but loud enough for Venna’s ears, although I can tell everyone in this anteroom right now is trying to eavesdrop.
“I’m an idiot. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize that I had hurt your feelings, either of your feelings,” I say, looking specifically at Venna this time, because she’s clearly mad too. “This friendship thing, this is new to me. I know how to be a sister, a daughter, a lover, a fighter. I didn’t realize that being a friend meant something different.”
Venna softens first. She reaches a hand down and grasps mine, squeezing it. Izabel’s a tougher nut to crack.
“I kept this a secret because I wasn’t sure how I felt,” I continue. “Killian and I have been seeing each other for over a year.”
At this, Izabel’s head whips back toward me, eyes widening. The juiciness of this is too tempting to her, I can tell. But she doesn’t ask any questions, she waits for me to continue.
“We met in the Central Market. He, apparently, ventures into the commoner part of the city on occasion…”
Over the next thirty minutes, I give them all the lurid details of our relationship. Izabel gasps in the appropriate places, and by the time I’m finished, she’s pulled me up on the couch to sit between them.
Anassa softens toward me, too. She still hasn’t entirely forgiven me for putting up such a big barrier between us, but something has changed—thanks to my openness with the twins, maybe.
“So it’s serious,” Izabel says, contemplative. “It’s not just a Bonding Trials fling.”
“It’s serious,” I confirm.
Suddenly, there’s a stirring on the other end of my bond. “Prepare yourself,” Anassa commands.
“For what?” I reply, surprised to hear her voice after the silent treatment she’s been serving me.
The door to the Kryptos anteroom bangs open, hitting the wall. A liveried messenger enters and she sighs in relief when she spots me.
“Rawbond Meryn Cooper?” the messenger asks.
“Yes?” I say, looking around in confusion. “What is this?” I ask Anassa, but there’s no reply.
“You are being summoned to see Sovereign Alpha Siegrid. Immediately.”
My mind sinks into a vat of cold, devouring dread. Egith’s warning returns to me.
The only reason the Sovereign Alpha could want to see me is if I’m going to be punished—or killed —for shutting out my fellow Rawbonds.
Izabel looks worried—a good sign for our friendship, if not for my overall health—when I rise. I bid the twins a quick goodbye, then follow the messenger out of the anteroom and out of the common lounge.
The walk to the audience chamber is endless, winding down echoing halls in complete silence. Questions almost burst from my lips multiple times, but I doubt this messenger will be able to answer them, anyway.
Igor would tell me that I’ve made my bed and now have to lie in it, but this bed feels like it’s all just… spikes . Everywhere.
We turn one corner and there’s Anassa, waiting regally for me, looking slightly bored.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her.
“We have business to attend to,” she replies. Helpful, Anassa, thank you.
Anassa’s tail swishes as we delve further into the castle. The halls get more elaborate as we draw closer to the royal side, the curtains woven with golden thread, the wall sconces covered in diamond-like glass shades. There are even long, thick tongues of blood-red carpet here rather than bare, polished stone, a rarity on this side of the castle because the wolves’ claws could shred right through them.
Though we haven’t crossed into the royal wings, it’s clear that the Sovereign Alpha enjoys certain luxuries for her position.
Anassa’s tail swishes again, brushing my arm. I look up at her, surprised. She doesn’t bother looking back at me, but I swear that brief contact was meant to reassure me.
The messenger stops abruptly in front of a massive wooden door. The door knockers are two iron wolves baring their teeth, each biting a heavy metal ring. The messenger reaches up and takes hold of one of those rings, lifting it and bringing it back against the door twice.
The menacing thuds reverberate in my ears. I blink to keep my eyes from watering.
A moment later, the doors before us groan open, revealing a large, sparsely furnished room. A few Bonded soldiers and their wolves line the walls. The space is well-lit, with oil lamps and a pair of large braziers atop a slightly raised stone dais. Atop that dais, there’s a long table with high-backed chairs. At the end of it, a chair even taller than the rest.
Standing before it is a woman whose presence makes me feel like gravity has tripled.
She’s incredibly tall and well-built, brown skin covered in scars and kill marks, but her presence takes over the space around her, expanding beyond the boundaries of her body. Her power seeps from her pores and spreads through the room with her every breath.
Anassa steps inside, and I force my legs to follow. As we draw closer, Sovereign Alpha Siegrid Therion straightens from where she was leaning over the table. An instinct thrumming in my blood urges my eyes to follow her every movement, every twitch of her muscles and every analyzing sweep of her eyes demanding my attention.
She’s older than I expected, I realize. In her mid-fifties, maybe, with graying brown hair that has a blood-red streak. Her age doesn’t diminish her physical prowess. If anything, it sharpens the unspoken threat in her gaze.
If Anassa’s taught me anything, it’s that age and experience only makes a wolf more dangerous.
Siegrid turns towards us, crossing her arms over her chest. They’re as heavily tattooed as her son’s. Looking at her, a warning similar to the one I heard the first time I looked at Stark sounds in my mind.
Dangerous , instinct screams at me, louder than it ever has before.
Her wolf sits beside her. Massive and black as night. It makes even Anassa look small. Siegrid reaches up and touches her wolf’s leg before stepping forward. She looks right past me and inclines her head.
A bow of respect, I realize, meant for Anassa. I watch as Anassa bows in return, extending one paw and dipping her head low to the ground.
Then Siegrid fixes her piercing gaze on me. I’m run through instantly. No, it’s more like she’s cut me open and is probing around to study my insides.
She’s an apex predator judging whether the cut of meat before her is worthy.
I have the distinct sense that she’s assessing me—weighing my value. Probably figuring out how she wants to punish me. I have no idea how I’m meant to behave before the Sovereign Alpha.
Should I treat her like a queen? Throw myself to the floor and grovel for my life?
Awkwardly, I bend forward in a bow. It was apparently the wrong move, judging by the disdainful huff it earns.
“Stand, girl.”
Her voice is slightly raspy, but it carries through the room like a freezing wind. My entire body reacts, hair rising, muscles twitching. I stand.
She’s still staring. I can barely look at her. It’s like trying to force myself to look directly at the sun. I can only manage a few seconds at a time. And I’m… small , in this room.
“In all my time as a Bonded soldier, as the Daemos Alpha, and then as Sovereign Alpha,” she says, “I have never seen anything like… this .”
Siegrid’s voice has a sharp edge to it. It causes a bizarre impulse in me to check to see if I’m bleeding, as though her cutting words have wounded me physically. The worst part is that I suddenly know why she was looking at me that way—assessing and judging.
The irritation in her voice is clear.
This , said with contempt. My relationship with Killian, she means. A Rawbond dallying with the crown prince.
She steps to the edge of the dais, looking down at me. “This has all been very unusual, girl, and you are drawing unnecessary attention to yourself.” Attention? What the hell does that mean? “But what’s done is done, I suppose,” Siegrid says with a weary sigh.
I feel the sudden, uncontrollable need to explain myself to her. I stumble through words, though my thoughts come out fractured.
“Please, Sovereign Alpha. The prince and I started seeing each other long before I became Bonded. I know I shouldn’t have kept it from?—”
“What are you rambling about?” Siegrid interrupts, her voice extinguishing mine.
“Um.” My brain isn’t working. My heart thunders in my ears. All I can see is her intense gaze. “The crown prince and I are together?” I offer hesitantly. “That’s what you?—”
“I am not here to talk to you about your love life, you child ,” she snaps, mouth twisting with displeasure.
Her voice is calm and measured, but her fury is anything but. It explodes through her, Siegrid’s face contorting into an expression of pure rage that makes me want to curl into a ball.
A white-out blizzard is howling around me, blinding me to everything, even what’s right in front of my eyes. “I’m sorry, but then why did you call me?”
Siegrid raises her face and pulls her broad shoulders back.
“The Strategos direwolves have convened and chosen their next leader. Anassa. You are the new Strategos Alpha.”