A KINGDOM OF EXILES
Freya
The next day, the morning sun streams through tall windows, gilding the long oak dining table in gold. The scent of roasted meat mixes with buttered bread. Although the air is warm, I still feel cold as ice on the inside.
My chair is at the farthest end of the table. I pause when I see it. Yesterday, my seat was beside Kade’s. Today, it is nearly ten places down.
Izel sits where I once belonged, her pale blue dress brushing against his arm. She laughs lightly as she fills Finn’s cup with juice, then cuts Ivy’s bread into tiny pieces. She does it smoothly, as if she has always been the one doing that.
A servant gestures to my chair. “Here, Luna Freya,” she says, but the title comes to her lips with hesitation.
I cross the room, feet stomping, the eyes of every servant and guard following me, and sit at the end.
Finn looks down the table, frowning. “Mama? Why are you sitting so far?”
Izel strokes his hair. “Don’t worry, darling. Mama Freya just likes her space.”
Angry heat rises to my face. My space? My exile, she means.
“Eat,” Kade orders, hushing everyone with his authoritative voice.
I lower my gaze to the plate set before me. Eggs, bread, and a slice of meat. Normal. Yet I know it could be poisoned—the food was waiting before I sat. I don’t drink the honeyed ale and only nibble at the food.
I try not to look at them, but my eyes betray me. Izel leaning in close. Kade listening with an amused smile. My children tucked beneath her wings. My throat thickens at the sight, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
The sound of wings flapping against stone jars the silence. A raven drops through the open window, black feathers scattering across the table. Gasps rise as it lands near Kade’s plate, claws tapping against the wood.
“From the High Council,” the birdmaster mutters upon recognising the seal and steps forward to unfasten the scroll from its leg. He hands it to Kade.
The Alpha breaks the seal, his eyes scanning quickly. The room holds its breath, waiting. Finally, he clears his throat. “A Conclave has been called. Thirty days from now. At the Blood-Moon.”
Whispers break out. A Conclave is no small matter. Every Alpha in the region is summoned. Every Luna, too—though Kade doesn’t look at me once when he says it.
“What for, Alpha?” Beta Jax asks.
“Judgment,” Kade answers shortly. His gaze flickers over the table, settling on no one. “They will weigh matters of blood and leadership.”
Izel’s lips curve faintly, like she knows something the rest of us don’t.
Judgment. The word scrapes across my bones. Thirty days. The same number Nyx gave me.
“Eat,” Kade repeats, ending the conversation.
I pretend to swallow another bite.
◆◆◆
When I meet Brin in the glass garden later, he has a plate of food ready for me. “I saw how little you ate at breakfast, Luna Freya,” he says. “I prepared this myself. If you trust me, you should eat it to keep your strength.”
Brin notices my hesitation and whispers, “You know you can trust me, Luna Freya.”
I nod and take the plate from him. I eat everything, but there’s no appetite, nor does the food taste good.
He takes the empty plate from me and then hands me a bluish-gray bowl filled with a purple concoction.
“It’s the antidote.” He pauses, then assures me, “No one knows about this except you and me.”
The words give me some relief, but I still don’t know what to do or whom to trust. All I know is that I have twenty-nine days left before I have to leave this place.
◆◆◆
Later, I step out to the balcony, thankful that I still have my chamber to myself, but I mustn’t count on it.
I could be thrown out any day if Izel so much as whispers the word.
The afternoon air is harsh, cutting through the fog in my head.
Below, the training yard rings with the sound of swords and staffs clashing, shouts carrying on the wind.
Something brushes against my sleeve. I look down. A raven perches on the railing, feathers gleaming dark as night. Its eyes fix on me, unblinking.
When did it come here? How did I not hear it?
A scrap of parchment is tied to its leg. I untie it, hands trembling, and unfold the note. Only four words written in quick, sharp strokes: Nightfell can free you.
The raven caws once, then takes off, its wings beating strong against the white sky. I stand there, clutching the note. My heart pounds so loud it drowns out the world.
Nightfell.
I know that name. Every child does. It is whispered like a curse, like a story told to keep pups in their beds.
Nightfell is a rival pack, but it is almost somewhat of a kingdom now.
Exiles and rogues gather there, bound not by honor but by blood debts and hatred for the Alphas who cast them out.
They live in the hollow mountains where the sun hides half the year. Where the rivers run black with ash.
It is said that Nightfell wolves drink wolfsbane to harden themselves against pain. That they scar their own flesh to honor the darkness. Their Alpha crowns himself not with silver, but with bone. Those who flee from Nightfell are as good as dead. Or worse.
Nyx stirs in my chest, her voice a low growl. ‘Listen. This is the way to freedom.’
I grip the railing so hard my knuckles threaten to split. My wolf speaks of freedom, but all I hear is ruin. Yet ruin is better than this slow death.
Rowan’s face burns in my mind. I know from the rumours that he has recently been crowned the Alpha of Nightfell.
Rowan was my oldest friend. The boy who once told me he loved me, knowing duty chained me to Kade because I was promised from birth.
He knew it, but he said he would always love me, and for that reason, Kade’s father cast him out of the pack.
And then he found home in the dangers of Nightfell.
I don’t even remember what he used to look like just his green eyes that felt like home. I only have happy memories of him, of us lying in the grass, laughing. Of running through the woods in our wolf forms, chasing prey.
Now his hand reaches for me again, across the mountains, across the years.
Thirty days. Now twenty-nine.
And for the first time in years, hope claws its way back into me—not bright or clean, but jagged and dangerous.
Hope shaped like Nightfell.