Chapter 24
Lyanna
Istand alone in the Lodge’s main room, waiting.
The scent of freshly applied protection wards hangs in the air—sage, juniper, and something uniquely Nyxiana’s—marking this as a safe space.
Through the window, I catch Callum’s silhouette as he positions himself by the eastern wall—close enough to intervene if needed, far enough to honor this diplomatic necessity.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet,” Dane says, glancing between the main doors and me. His Alpha presence feels reassuring yet unobtrusive. “The wards will activate once he enters. No one will hear what’s said—not the delegation, not our pack.”
I nod, smoothing my hands down the soft wool of my sweater. “I understand.”
When Evren requested this meeting through formal channels an hour ago, the pack moved with practiced efficiency—securing space, establishing wards, creating protection without showing fear.
The diplomatic dance is familiar to me after years in Gleann na Sidhe, but the purpose feels jarringly different.
The door opens, and Evren enters alone. He’s left the formal dragon delegation robes behind, wearing only simple combat leathers with the Crimson Court’s subtle embroidery at the collar. His gold-flecked eyes meet mine as he crosses the threshold.
The wards activate with an audible snap—a curtain of energy rippling through the room’s perimeter. Dane gives me a final nod before stepping outside, closing the door behind him.
Evren and I stand facing each other, separated by the width of the room and the weight of impossible circumstances.
We were in the same room at yesterday’s formal reception, but we weren’t properly introduced—I was performing my role as diplomatic obligation while he recited ceremonial requirements.
I wasn’t here when he helped the pack fight Faelan months ago; I was in Tir na Sorcha for healing training.
Everything I know about him comes from Rhonan’s stories, from the pack’s accounts of the battle.
Now he represents the delegation demanding I marry a stranger to prevent war.
“Lady Lyanna,” he says, inclining his head slightly.
“Just Lyanna here,” I correct automatically. “I’m pack healer, not court nobility, in this pack.”
A flicker of something—respect, perhaps—crosses his face. “Fair enough.” He gestures to the space between us. “We find ourselves in an... unusual position.”
I allow myself the smallest smile. “That’s one word for it. Rhonan told me what happened the first time you fought Faelan here—how he weaponized mate bonds.”
Evren winces slightly, bouncing once on his heels. “And now I’m part of a delegation enforcing a marriage that would destroy yours.”
The irony hangs between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
Evren rubs his thumb across his dagger hilt as he paces the small distance between us. I notice how his weight shifts subtly forward with each turn.
“It’s the same pattern,” he says suddenly, his gold-flecked eyes fixing on mine. “Rhonan showed me the reports on the contamination—corrupting pack bonds to kill from within. This marriage ultimatum uses the same methodology. Target what people love most, turn it into a weapon against them.”
He stops pacing and moves closer, lowering his voice though the wards ensure our privacy. “The contamination attack weaponized mate connections. Now he’s doing it again with this marriage contract.”
The implications settle cold in my chest.
“I watched you during the delegation presentation,” Evren continues, bouncing once on his heels. “That stiff compliance, the forced courtesy—it reminded me of reports about Faelan’s thralls. Different method, same result.”
His fingers trace the dragon embroidery at his collar. “Do you know what my brother did? Rhonan chose Serena despite every political complication it created.” Something fierce flashes in his eyes. “Our honor codes are supposed to protect choice, not destroy it.”
The diplomatic mask slips from his face completely. “This delegation mission—it violates everything we fought against. The same corruption, just wrapped in political obligation instead of magic.”
He moves closer, his voice dropping further.
“I can’t officially oppose this without compromising my position.
But I can tell you what the dragon court has observed.
The tribunal has been influenced. Seven marriage contracts in the last year with identical enforcement patterns—each one strategically placed to create maximum political leverage. ”
I catch my breath. We suspected manipulation, but this confirms it on a scale we hadn’t imagined. “Faelan’s corrupted the entire tribunal?”
Evren nods grimly. “And using the same methodology. The corruption signature on the contracts matches what Rhonan showed me from your pack’s contamination. He’s weaponizing bonds systematically across realms.”
I pause, taking in Evren’s words as pieces click into place like a healer’s puzzle finally revealing its pattern. He’s not just giving me intelligence—he’s providing the key that binds all our investigation threads together.
“The tribunal members,” I say softly, needing confirmation. “Do you have their names?”
Evren nods and pulls a small scroll from his leather vest. As he unrolls it on the table between us, I see a list of names written in precise Drakorian script, with notations beside each in a different hand.
“Lord Kaelith, High Court Advisor,” he says, pointing to the first name.
“Previously known for balanced judgment. Now shows signs of magical manipulation—decision patterns shifting after private meetings with unknown fae. His support for accelerated marriage timelines appeared suddenly, without logical justification.”
His finger moves down the list. “Lady Morwyn of the Eastern Groves—her traditionalist views were exploited and amplified. Received unusual gifts that matched magical signatures we detected during the contamination crisis. The corruption weaponized her existing fears about fae-wolf alliances.”
“And here,” Evren continues, tapping the third name.
“Councilor Aldric. He held an existing grudge against House Silverthorne over a land dispute that’s decades old.
Someone stoked that resentment, turned old bitterness into active opposition.
He voted to accelerate your marriage timeline with uncharacteristic vehemence. ”
I lean closer, studying the pressure patterns noted beside each name. The methodology is unmistakable—the same subtle coercion signatures we found in my father’s communications.
“The tribunal is supposed to take fourteen days minimum to review contract transfers,” Evren continues, his thumb rubbing his dagger hilt anxiously. “Your case was processed in three—unprecedented acceleration.”
He rolls the scroll further, revealing a timeline of decisions. “Look here—formal decisions recorded before evidence was even presented. The dragon court noticed because it violated all procedural norms, but they couldn’t challenge without proof of corruption.”
I trace the dates with my finger, feeling cold certainty settle in my chest. “This matches exactly what we found in the contamination signature analysis. The magical pressure wavelengths are identical.”
Evren’s gold-flecked eyes meet mine. “Every marriage tribunal member has been compromised. The entire process was corrupted before your sister’s body was even cold.”
The final piece locks into place.
“The dragon court suspected manipulation but couldn’t prove it,” Evren says. “I’m risking my delegation position by showing you this, but after what I saw when Faelan targeted my brother’s mating ...”
I straighten, decision made. “I need you to brief our pack leadership on this intelligence. This is the evidence we’ve been searching for—the connection between the murder and the marriage manipulation. Will you do that?”
I close the scroll with hands steadier than I expected. The evidence unfolded before us forms a pattern too precise to deny.
“I’ll do more than brief your leadership,” Evren says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m formally allying myself with Ash Hollow against this tribunal corruption.”
I search his face for any hint of deception. I find none.”
“You understand what that means? Opposing your own delegation could be considered treason.”
His thumb rubs against his dagger hilt. “Some things matter more than political allegiance. This marriage manipulation violates everything the dragon courts claim to stand for.” His gold-flecked eyes harden.
“Honor isn’t about following orders. It’s about standing against corruption, even when it wears your own colors. ”
I gesture toward the door. “Dane needs to hear this directly.”
When Dane enters, his Alpha presence fills the room differently than Evren’s formal authority—less about position, more about earned respect. Callum follows, his protective gaze sweeping over me before assessing Evren with guarded consideration.
Evren repeats his findings, unrolling the evidence before Dane with methodical precision. He points to each corrupted tribunal member, detailing the specific manipulation patterns.
“I formally offer my services to Ash Hollow,” Evren concludes, standing straighter. “My position in the delegation gives me access to communications, timelines, and diplomatic intelligence. I’ll continue to serve as your inside source.”
Dane studies him, Alpha assessment weighing risk against value. “The pack appreciates your alliance, but this puts you in considerable danger.”
“I’m willing to establish intelligence sharing protocols,” Evren says, bouncing once on his heels. “Regular secure communications through channels your team dictates.”
Dane nods, considering the logistics. “We’ll establish secure dead drops. Derek can coordinate the technical side.”
He extends his hand. “Ash Hollow accepts your alliance.”
Evren clasps it firmly. “I’ll advocate within the dragon court as well. There are progressive factions who’d support alternative solutions if we find them.”
When Evren departs, slipping back to the delegation before his absence is noticed, Dane turns to us.
“This changes everything. With dragon court intelligence and concrete evidence of tribunal corruption, we can build a legitimate challenge.”
Looking at Callum, I feel hope strengthening within me. Time is brutally tight, but we’re no longer fighting blind.