Chapter 34 Feray
Feray
I absolutely hate being like this.
But wolves, like other apex predators, respect power and authority.
Both of which I have in spades. Fi is going to shit herself when she sees how much I've evolved.
Change is the wrong word for what has happened.
Evolution is change on a permanent level.
I have evolved from the scared, powerless witch to a powerful winter wolf—the last of my kind and bloodline.
Whoever restrained and buried who and what I am will pay dearly when I find out who or what they are. The rage simmers beneath my skin as we walk down the hallway. The clicking of my shoes on the marble floors echoes rhythmically.
A soft laugh escapes my lips as I change my gait, silencing my steps. Five arrive and only four can be heard. This should throw off whoever is in charge.
I hear the voices ahead long before they come into view. They scramble to prepare for my arrival.
Good. Let them scramble.
"Khal, Diaval, walk beside us." My mates move and flank us. Only Torben stays behind, ready to counter any sneak attack. The doors to the room I need to enter are closed and appear to be barred shut. They think wood and metal will stop me. They think anything will stop me.
"Easton, would you do the honors?" Easton steps forward, his hand glowing. The smell of burning wood fills the air. I watch as the section he's touching chars to a cinder. With a shove, the lock falls from the door.
I glance back at Torben. He gives me a nod before charging forward, ramming his shoulder into the door. The force sends it flying off its hinges, shattering into a hundred pieces that scatter across the room.
The man and his advisors spring to their feet as Easton and I stride in. My eyes dance with the anticipation of what's to come.
"How dare you come in here uninvited," the man I assume is in charge barks. I let the silence stretch. Let him sweat.
Then I speak.
"My mother was Lyra Sveltson, Princess of the Crescent Valley pack. My father was Claridon Jokull, Alpha of the Dunnum pack and true mate to Lyra." I stand taller, speaking my parents' names, feeling my wolf perk up.
"This is my pack by birthright and blood." Power radiates from me, and Easton steps back, allowing me to wield my abilities fully.
"Lyra's pup died in utero. You are not her child," he yells, a smug smile crossing his face as he folds his arms.
The rage in my chest turns to ice. "Seeing as my parents didn't tell anyone about the loss of their first child, I find it interesting you know about it.
" I smirk, stepping further from my mates.
"That is, unless you know something about the die-off of a half dozen unborn pups around that time.
" I watch his bravado falter. He steps back, glancing at his advisors.
Guilty. He knew. He was part of it.
My wolf snarls in my chest, straining against my control. Kill him. Kill him now. Not yet, I tell her. Let him dig his own grave first.
"Remove this usurper. She's not Lyra's child."
An older advisor looks me over, then notices my attire. "She has the diadem of Selune and the bone bracers of Fenrir and collar," he mutters, stepping back. "I cannot stand against her."
"She's a grave robber, not the next Luna. Guards!" Two dozen wolves surge into the room from all sides.
Laughing softly, I remove the diadem, collar, and bracers, handing them to Easton with a wink. I won't need them for what comes next. I move and position my mates behind me. "Hilda Skau, my mother's mother, was the last living winter wolf, right?" I ask, my voice echoing in the tense silence.
"That is correct," replies the advisor who refused to stand against me.
"She wasn't the last." I let the words hang in the air.
"I am."
No sooner do the words leave my lips than my shift takes over—faster than ever before.
The minute my paws hit the ground, the temperature in the room plummets.
Frost crawls across the marble floors. Breath crystallizes in the air.
The guards closest to me stumble back, their eyes wide with primal terror. The child of winter walks among them.
Several guards immediately take a knee. Easton moves to stand beside me. My wolf's shoulder is even with his chest, my head level with his. No wolf in this room can match my size.
"You stand before Princess Thyra Feray Jokull, heir apparent to the Crescent Valley Pack," Easton announces.
"She is also mate and wife to me, Easton Alexander Bennu, Prince of the fallen Dusk Court.
She is the true child of winter. Torben is the child of earth.
Khal is the child of water. Diaval is the child of air.
" He raises his hands, allowing his fire to rise. "I am the child of fire."
"Guards, attack..." The Alpha yells, but not a single being moves a muscle. Fear flickers in his eyes for the first time. But instead of submitting, he shifts and goes on the offensive.
Foolish.
Everything moves in slow motion as his wolf rips free, charging toward me.
Thump, thump... go his paws on the ground. His form leaps up.
And I lunge.
My jaws clamp down on his ribcage just behind his front legs. He thrashes, making my teeth dig in further. The taste of dirty fur and the tang of his blood coat my tongue. For being an alpha, he doesn't have the mass I would assume he should.
Weak. Pathetic. Pretender.
The harder he fights, the further my teeth sink in.
I hold tight, feeling his bones breaking in my mouth.
Part of me is satisfied. The other part wants vengeance.
For the sibling that died before me. For the half dozen unborn pups murdered all those years ago.
For my parents, hunted and killed like animals.
For every year I spent alone and afraid, not knowing who or what I was. For everything that was stolen from me.
My wolf chants in my head: Kill. Kill. Kill.
She's mad. She blames this male for the death of our parents and sibling.
I can't say that I disagree with her. His wolf growls, attempting to dig his claws into my hide.
I feel the scrape of his claws, but my wolf has other plans.
A chill spreads through my fur, turning it into a glistening coat of permafrost. His claws can't break through the ice armor she's created for us.
My jaw locks down harder. The familiar crunch of bones breaking reverberates through me. A popping sound catches my attention. I've just punctured one of his lungs. His howl for help pierces the air—a desperate, wavering cry. That's when I decide it's over.
Lowering my head, I use my front paws to grip him firmly.
With a powerful, savage motion, I rip him in half.
The snapping and popping of muscles and tendons, combined with the ripping of his hide, is music to my ears.
Blood sprays, staining the frost-covered tile beneath us—a stark contrast to the icy armor that covers me.
The scent of victory fills my nostrils. I drop what's left of the bloody mass on the floor with a wet thud.
Then I turn and start growling at the other wolves in the room. Slowly, I lower my head, raise my hackles, and hold my tail high, threatening their very existence.
Try me, my posture screams. I dare you.
The numerous guards that were in motion a moment ago freeze in their tracks.
No one moves.
No one breathes.
Easton rests his hand on my back, between my shoulders, as we walk forward together. The closer we get to the throne, the urge to shift back itches under my skin. "Call your people," he says as we stand on the dais before the throne.
Tossing my head side to side several times, I shake out my fur before throwing my head back and letting the deepest, soul-wrenching howl loose. Every fiber of my being seems to resonate with the tone. I hear the sounds of my people howling with me.
Easton, Torben, and Khal shift and position themselves beside me.
Easton's phoenix lands on the apex of the throne, spreading his fiery wings wide before joining my song.
Torben's bear roars, facing the wolves as they enter the throne room.
Diaval, who can't fit in here if he shifts, moves beside me, holding the bracers, collar, and diadem in his hands.
"Your rightful ruler has returned to claim her blood right. "
The wolves lie down with their heads on their paws when I finish howling.
It's an intense feeling as each life force pulses through the bonds.
Not only do I feel the wolves in Dunnum, but I also start to feel the wolves before me.
I can sense where their mates are. Some are here in the north.
Others in Blackmore, Thornford, and Briarvale.
Drawing on everything that I am, I dull the connections and shift back to my human form, my gown still intact.
Diaval places the diadem on me first, then the bracers, and finally the bone collar of the last winter wolf.
"My people," I say, raising my hands to draw all the wolves' attention to me.
"My connection to you is new and tenuous, but I can sense the true mates of some of you here.
" The single wolves in the pack shift back and lower their heads.
The alpha pack attendants pass out blankets to those who have shifted back.
"Is it true? Are you our Lyra's daughter?" An older woman pushes her way through the crowd. Her hair is mostly silver, but I see a streak of crimson that is very similar to my own.
"You already know the answer. You feel the familial bond the same as I do." I step down the three stairs, and Diaval joins me. The woman and I meet in the middle, and I look deep into her eyes. They are the same color as mine.
"You're my niece." She smiles as her bottom lip quivers with emotion.