35. THORN
THORN
The trek to the castle is quiet this year.
Too quiet. No Tala to chatter at my side, no steady voice to blunt the weight of my thoughts.
She has her mate now, and so her place is no longer with me.
Without her comforting presence, I’m left with young, single mates and those who have recently been found without a mate, mostly due to the Challenge nine months ago.
Neither of which will deign to talk to me.
So the journey is silent. Silence and a brutal pace that even I can’t slow, because every mile closer makes the string of my nerves loosen slightly more in my chest.
Every mile closer brings me to her.
By the time the ancient spires rise on the horizon, my wolves are heaving for breath. Yet, I’m nothing but determined, stalking forward.
Inside the castle, the priest drones his annual speech about trials and mates and duty.
Frankly, none of it matters anymore, I know what I’ve come for.
Then we’re escorted to our wing on the first floor.
My room is the first door on the right of the East Wing.
I pause outside my door as the pack filters past. Five of the unmated widows who lost their mates shoot me dirty looks as they pass into their respective rooms. Tris, who was Steele’s new mate last season, gives me a nod as she passes.
Maybe she’s realizing I did her a favor.
She can find a mate in the Great Lakes pack again and return to her home.
It’s Lucia, Franz’s former mate, who refuses to look at me as she passes.
They were mated for ten years. I almost feel sorry. Almost.
They challenged me. I fought. I survived. The blood is on their hands as much as mine.
Once the pack has filtered into their rooms, I open the arched wooden door to my quarters.
It creaks wider as I enter. The fire is already smoldering low in the hearth, the scent of ash and smoke clinging to the air.
Three tall windows show the setting sun bleeding orange across the stone.
The center window has been replaced and cleaned since last season.
With the lack of complaints and stops, we made record time this year.
It’s probably because my paws could not be tamed.
Not when I knew how close Ember was. She rejected me last year and chose to remain unmated.
This year, I refuse to leave without her.
A knock rattles the door.
“Enter.”
A priest glides in, red robes wisping across the stone as he walks deeper into my quarters. I’m no longer greeted by the elder priest. This priest is bald and smells of musty books. His smile is too thin, his eyes too sharp. I wonder what grievance he has for me.
“Alpha Thorn,” he greets coldly. “A wonder to see you return.”
I grunt, noncommittal.
“After last year’s…disappointing result, I confess, we doubted you would return.”
My eyes narrow. “Do you mean, if I would be Challenged?”
“That, and if you still had faith in the trials.” He shrugs.
“Regardless of my love life. I have a duty.” I growl. “And I will perform it.”
He paces before the hearth, wringing his hands. “Yes, that’s the thing, you’ve been Alpha going on eleven years now without a mate. The trials saw much success last year, almost all wolves found mates. The gods must be displeased with you.”
The gods? I nearly laugh. I am displeased. What would he have me do? Drag Ember by her auburn hair and bind her against her will?
“Tell them to get in line,” I snarl as he continues his muttering.
The priest flinches, but presses on, “It’s just that if you—”
“I know. I’m well aware.” How many times am I going to be reminded of my shortcomings? And the stakes involved? I’ve risked my life, my position. What more do they want from me?
“But you can’t be Alpha much longer if you do not have a mate.”
“I have a mate,” I snap.
“Do you? She didn’t seem to think so. I talked to her myself last year, I even told her that if she felt the bond not to ignore it, because the gods don’t bless us twice. Yet she still refused you. How do you explain that?”
Heat surges in my chest. I stalk toward him, my three scars throbbing against my temple. My fangs flash. He stumbles back toward the door.
“This year is different.” I snap, low and dangerous. “I don’t need your help, or even the gods’ help. Nothing will keep me from her.”
The priest stammers something about the gods’ disapproval at my insolence and flees, robes snapping behind him.
I slam the door so hard the windows rattle.
Let the gods rage. Let every wolf in this cursed castle rise against me. Ember is mine this year. I’ll prove it to them, to her, and gods.