Chapter Twelve
Calista
The words echoed against stone, iron and moonlight.
Chaos followed.
Benches scraped, voices rose, and someone hissed a curse. Dorian half-rose from his seat, eyes fixed to mine, before slumping back down.
Only the Savage didn’t move. But something changed in the air around him all the same. Rage, perhaps. Shock. Betrayal. I couldn’t tell. I only knew that the male beside me had gone from a warm, living presence to something carved from lethal ice.
Good. If he hated me, this would be easier.
The high priestess found her voice first, sharp with ritual authority. “State the rite, moon bride.”
My fingers tightened around the parchment. I didn’t look at the pews or the gathered Alphas who had already tried to decide my people’s fate without me. I looked only at the king.
“Before Conclave and Court, under Sel’s rising and Raya’s full face, I, Calista Vale of Hollowcrest Isle, call the Blood Hunt.
Let twelve daughters stand, one from each court.
Five nights and five dawns counted. Let hunters run by the old paths.
If I reach the Frostcrag Throne unclaimed by the fifth dawn, I claim the Moon Crown, and I am not simply the bride prize and king’s consort, I earn the Queen’s Mandate of three Immutable Edicts, binding upon King, Conclave, and Temple.
My choice will hold, and none may contradict it.
If I fall, the victor claims the crown’s prize, but Hollowcrest’s debt is paid. Witness and seal.”
Neris turned to the gathered Alphas. “Conclave?”
One by one, they stood. Some looked angry, others grim. Some even thrilled, bloodthirsty creatures that they were. Magnus of Saltspire. Trystan of Thornwild. Radick of Stormhallow. On and on it went until only Dorian remained seated.
For one heartbeat, fear pierced through me. If he refused to stand, if he denied me here…
Dorian slowly rose. His jaw was tight enough to crack teeth, his eyes dark on me with equal parts fear and fury and maybe, just a hint of understanding. He gave one grave nod.
Neris turned at last to Savage. “And what say you, my king?”
The entire temple seemed to tilt toward him.
I did too, though I hated it. Because this was the true edge of the blade. Would he honor the law? Or would he choose Frostcrag’s order over the rite of the gods?
I watched him through a pulse that felt too loud in my own skull.
He was still beneath the mask. Still beneath the crown.
Still terrifyingly controlled. But I knew him enough now to see the violence buried in that stillness, barely contained.
It was forced down beneath law and duty and the shape of a king who did not get to indulge the wildness clawing beneath his skin.
For one impossible second, guilt rose, sharp and unwanted.
“I agree, per the law,” he finally growled.
Relief nearly buckled my knees.
He had done it. Gods bless him, he had done the honorable thing, even now. My throat tightened so painfully it felt like swallowing glass.
“And will you choose a daughter to run for Frostcrag?” she asked.
“No.” Ice laced his tone. “Calista Vale runs for Hollowcrest and Frostcrag as my betrothed.”
I couldn’t help the little gasp of surprise from escaping.
“The Moon Crown and the Queen’s Mandate stand as named.” Those silver orbs bored into me, his voice rougher now, darker. “If you, Calista Vale, cross my gate at dawn on the fifth day, your three edicts shall bind the realm.”
I nodded, lips pressed in a tight line. The room stirred again, but I barely heard it. All I could hear was the blood in my ears.
All I could think was that Hollowcrest’s fate, my family’s fate, now rested against my ribs like a drawn blade.
The high priestess clapped, just once. “To the great hall.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement within the Frostcrag ranks.
Within seconds, the temple was emptied and as though the wedding had already become a wake, the Alphas, priestesses, and gathered witnesses were led into the hall with the grim order of a death procession.
The sprawling chamber had been remade into something straight from a dream. For a long moment, I just stood at the entryway staring. This was meant to be the feast that followed my wedding vows.
Runners like winter rivers streaked down the stone, a candelabra hung overhead with frost-bright crystals, and flags of each court lined the walls standing sentry.
A stag twirled on a spit, roasted whole at one hearth with its antlers crowned in pine.
Platters steamed, the scent of roasted meats and vegetables perfuming the warm air.
They laid an entire kingdom on a table and called it a supper. It was enough food to feed all of Hollowcrest Isle for a week. I couldn’t help but think of Suri and my mother trying to survive from weeks-old, salted cod while I feasted like a queen. Guilt soured low in my belly, twisting my gut.
Only another reason confirming my decision.
An attendant set me at the head of the table at the left-hand seat beside the Alpha King’s empty throne.
Neris took the place at my other side with unnerving stillness.
No one sat down. The long board of light timber stretched in ranked order: Frostcrag captains, some masked like their king, others with only scruffy beards to hide their faces, sharp-eyed guards, and then the Conclave Alphas. Each one was marked by a sigil clasp.
The king entered without a grand flourish, or guards accompanying him, and still the shift in the air was palpable. He moved beside me, every inch of him turning cold and formal once more.
The priestess raised her hands and the room slowly quieted enough for her voice to carry.
“The bride has called for a Blood Hunt. Now, per the law, we prepare. Conclave witnesses, each Court will name its daughter and its hunter. Five nights will be counted. The sacred rite will begin at moonrise. Ready yourselves.”
As the hall exploded into movement once again, the Savage turned his head toward me at last. For a heartbeat, even with the chaos of shuffling bodies, it felt as though only the two of us remained.
He looked at me not like a bride. Not like a prize anymore. Like an adversary, maybe even a worthy one. There was something in his eyes that said he wished I’d chosen differently.
“You’ve made your choice, bride,” he murmured, low enough for only me to hear.
Anger but also something else, something I couldn’t quite name tinged his tone.
“As I made mine.” His shoulders eased a fraction.
Then he unfastened the sigil of Frostcrag Court from his cloak and pressed it into my hand.
His palm was warm, calloused, and steadying. “To lead you home.”
My fingers curled around the silver wolf with a frost mane. I couldn’t look up, I dared not meet his gaze. A pang of regret seared through me, sharp and visceral. Why would he…?
“Tonight, we hunt.” His voice was cold, hard once more.
I lifted my chin and met his stare through the iron wolf mask. It was too late to go back. I would no longer be an ornament beside a crown.
Queen. Or corpse.
The decision was made, and the law had been spoken.
As he returned to the dais, drums pounded out a slow heartbeat. Just over my head, bells tolled the hour. Minutes passed in a blur, time moving oddly with my thoughts churning.
Much too quickly, Neris stepped into the center of the chamber again, hands raised. “The Conclave presents its daughters.”
The Alphas stepped forward, then the ladies came one by one, each with her court’s colors stitched into a sash and a hunter standing a measured distance behind.
“Alma Blackfoot of Mistvale,” the first Alpha announced. The female stepped out of the fog of her own cloak, all quiet feet and a razor-edged smile. Pale ribbons streamed from her sleeves like the mist itself. Her hunter stood beside her, gaze scanning the hall.
The procession continued, one by one, introduced by their corresponding Alpha. Thornwild presented Rhosyn Briar, Stormhallow’s offering was Myra Bolt, Ashfen sent Pyra Soot, and Gloomheath’s Lune Reed came next.
I watched each one carefully, measuring strength, weakness, speed, nerve.
Thank the goddess my friend Jameson would soon stand at my back for the Hunt.
I had built my contingency plan around that certainty.
But the rite was moving with brutal speed, and the other daughters and hunters were already here, the chosen elite of their courts, assembled long before I’d had time to catch my breath.
Jameson would have to be summoned and ferried to the starting point.
I only hoped the law would be merciful enough to await his arrival.
Last of all came Hollowcrest, me, already on the dais, already named. Dorian’s stare found mine across the court. The anger still lingered in his eyes but something else braced under it. Pride, maybe. Or resignation wrapped in duty.
The king cleared his throat, beside me once more. Turning to the Conclave, he announced, “Regarding the Blood Hunt, I too shall use the law to my name.”
The relief inside me faltered.
He lifted a wolf-sigil on a short chain, and the sight of it sent a fresh chill through me. “By Conclave writ, the Alpha King may name a guard to the bride prize. I invoke the right.”