Chapter Three #3
Around them, some soldiers watched with the hard blankness of men trained to follow orders.
For them, the lash was simply work. But others could not hide what churned under their skin.
A tight jaw, a hand clenched until knuckles blanched, eyes dark with disgust. A few barked orders to keep the crowd from leaning too close; others did the work of mopping up in silence, trying to keep their shoulders from shaking under the rage.
I didn’t dare look at Gerhard or Matthis.
All this... all this was madness.
They dressed up the cruelty as law. Failure to pay levies, speaking against the Alpha, stealing in hard seasons, desertion for barely mature younglings when blades were needed. The excuses were thin, but the lash was never about justice. The lash was the point.
Punish one and warn a hundred. Let fear feed the pack.
And so I stood at the far edge of the row of seats, hands clenched so hard my knuckles ached.
Each crack dug into me like a blade. I went to them afterward, bandaging torn flesh, pressing salve into torn flesh where muscle showed dark beneath the lacerations, passing what food I could.
It was the only thing that ever dulled the sourness in my chest. Usually.
Tonight, nothing stuck. Nothing soothed. My fire pushed against my ribs, begging me to burn them all down. I could. But then what? I wasn’t strong enough to be Alpha. If I killed them, the pack would only collapse into blood and frenzy as wolves ripped one another apart for the throne.
So I had to stay, sit still, and bear it. Endure my father’s smug grin as the whip cracked and sang. As men screamed, some in pain, others in fury. As wives and children wept just beyond the walls. This time... maybe this time I had the right weapon to end it all.
A stray.
Dierk.
He was barely fit for ordinary life, couldn’t stomach rank or order. He was self-serving in his hunger for revenge.
But he was strong.
Wolfsbane should’ve weakened him, should’ve muted his wolf completely.
It should have left him broken and still.
Instead, he’d paced the cell, snarling, alive with power.
Maybe Gerhard was right and his wolf was too far gone, but it hadn’t felt like chaos when I’d faced him.
He had felt... attuned. Not out of control, but fully in step with its ferality.
By the time I finished tending the last family, I was scraped hollow. I dragged myself back to my chambers, needing out of the black dress that reeked of blood and hopelessness before I could face anyone again. Greta was waiting, as she always was, and bowed. “My lady.”
I smiled faintly, already moving toward my wardrobe. “How was your day?”
“He’s with the Feuermeister,” she said in answer as she unlaced me with quick, practiced fingers. “He gave me no trouble.” She slipped the gown off my shoulders, and her voice was quiet when she spoke again. “He looks very... powerful.”
“I can only hope he is.”
Greta fetched a clean shift. “He doesn’t look nice.”
Oh, not even a little. I pulled the linen over my head, smoothing it down. “He doesn’t have to be. He only has to help us.”
She helped me with a clean, simple gown, tied the final ribbons, then stepped back with a bow. “You’ll do what’s right, my lady. You always do.”
I didn’t know about that, but I knew I was going to try. “Thank you, Greta.”
Dismissed, she slipped out.
I hurried through the shadows toward Adelmar’s tower with a smooth face and calm steps, every gesture carefully chosen.
Nothing unusual in my visiting him, everyone knew I was his favored pupil.
But tonight, if anyone glimpsed how restless I felt, questions might follow.
Questions I, we, couldn’t afford. Only when the tower door shut behind me did I let out a breath.
I climbed the spiraling stairs and knocked.
Matthis opened. His eyes were tired, but he grinned, and something about it prickled at my wolf, made her ears flatten. “You’re in for a surprise,” he said.
“Should I be worried?”
I stepped past him. He closed the door, and followed him into Adelmar’s study. Gerhard’s voice mixed with my teacher’s and another’s. Deeper. Rougher. So he was really here. Not rampaging. Capable of holding a conversation—never mind.
A snarl tore through the air, vicious enough to cut that thought short.
My wolf bristled, tail high. She didn’t snap, but she was done being patient. And I agreed. If he was to help us, if he was to stand against my father, he had to master himself. A wolf who couldn’t leash his rage was no Alpha.
I pushed open the inner door, ready to say exactly that.
And froze.
Gods above.
He’d bathed. The grime, the stink of prison and blood–gone. The wildness clung to him, and I didn’t think anything could strip that from him. But clean and with control, thin as it was, of his wolf, he was...
Mother...
His hair, black with tips seared in ember-red, was tied back with leather.
His jaw, square and freshly shaved, made the scar along his cheek stand out more, running down toward a mouth I had no business looking at.
A tunic stretched tight across his shoulders and chest, belted at a slim, solid waist. Long, muscled legs filled trousers tucked into sturdy boots.
A warrior. Every inch of him. A dangerous, beautiful warrior.
My eyes climbed back up to his to find them wolf-gold and unyielding.
One brow lifted, underscoring that infuriating flicker of knowing I’d just checked him out.
I forced my gaze steady, pretending he wasn’t unfairly built for sin.
“Princess,” he said, a growl threaded through the word.
The male and the wolf were never far apart.
I straightened, forced my shoulders to ease. “Dierk.”
We stood, wolves measuring wolves. Magic sizing up magic. Heat and silence pressed on us, making the room feel even smaller and more crowded than it really was.
Until Adelmar cut across it, voice brisk. “Did you eat? I called for food for these two mongrels.” He jerked his head toward Gerhard and Matthis. “I can add more for you.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”
He herded us toward the larger teaching chamber because the study would be too small to hold us all without breathing down each other’s necks. And the scent of him, now clear and as powerful as anything else about him, was too much of a distraction for me and my wolf.
We sat, as we did so many times before. Not Dierk. He kept pacing, not out of discomfort, but like someone who couldn’t be still for long.
Per usual, Matthis broke the silence. “So, now that we’re all here and merry after such a lovely day, how are we going to do what we want to do?”
The question felt heavy, especially after the emotionally draining day I’d had.
My stomach clenched, and the headache I’d been fighting with all morning became unbearable.
There was so much to do, so much to plan.
It had seemed easy when we were only looking for a way out; now that he was here, the task felt suddenly too big.
I drew a long breath and reached for my fire, the little place inside that always steadied me.
Tiny leaves and tendrils made of flames sparked between my fingertips, pretty and ridiculous, and my chest loosened as they danced and died into the air.
I felt him watching. I felt his golden eyes tracking the flames from my hand to my face and back again. My wolf turned toward his, two animals still measuring one another. But he didn’t say a word, and neither did I.
“We need a plan,” Gerhard said, rolling his shoulders. “Objectives. Timeline. Logistics. We can’t simply unleash him on them and hope everything else falls into place.”
“I kill them all,” Dierk growled, resuming his pacing. “All of your problems are solved.”
I sent the flame into a small orbit and forced it to scatter. “We’re not simply eliminating a problem,” I said. “We’re rebuilding the pack from bottom to top. That will not be accomplished in one day, by getting rid of them.”
His growl deepened, but he didn’t press further.
Adelmar stretched, combing the long strand of his beard with his fingers.
“There is no planning anything until we know the full extent of his power. We know he’s strong, obviously, but his magic is untested, and he’ll need it when he challenges Vargan.
” He turned his gaze to Dierk. “Where is your fire, pup?”
To my astonishment, Dierk shrugged. A shrug.
But then, all the times he could have, should have reached for it, popped into my mind.
He never did. Not once. Yes, he was bound, but even bound, instinct would have him try touse that undeniable part of us.
With him, there was nothing. A doubt crawled up my spine.
“You know how to wield fire, right?” I asked, because the room needed an answer.
He squared his shoulders; his growl deepened. “Some.”
Gerhard, Matthis, and even Adelmar replied with the same incredulous sound: “What?”
“I was never taught,” he said, folding his impressive arms, like his answer was nothing but reasonable.
“No, I understand, but...” Matthis, Matthis, fumbled for words that could hold everyone’s shock. “It’s in us. It’s part of us. How—”
Adelmar frowned, then considered it and nodded slowly.
“It actually makes a kind of sense. A strong wolf will always try to run the show, and if he never considered himself part of any pack, if he grew up with no guidance at all, then it stands to reason his magic is untapped. I expect it comes out in bursts that you can’t control? ”