Misguided Wolves

36. Chains of Fror

***

Kate reeled at the news: Charles had granted Castiel full reign over Fror. Her relocation to Logi had upended their two-front attack plan, and she feared her allies might delay. Dean’s words echoed: Be like water—unassuming, healing, deadly. Flow, don’t fight. She clung to faith that Elliott and Jackson would adapt, as she must. Yet, returning to her homeland brought no comfort, only unease, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit.

Fror, once vibrant, now mirrored Vintr’s bleakness. Mines and fields buzzed with relentless labor, workers’ eyes dim, faces gaunt, clad in tattered rags. Winter’s bite should have stung, but many welcomed its numbing cold, dulling their aching bodies. Children, once joyful, toiled endlessly, some maimed—missing fingers or limbs. Their once-bright eyes, full of wonder, were now hollow, dirt smudging their faces not from play but from grueling work. Kate’s heart ached at their lost innocence.

Castiel’s guards patrolled, enforcing strict rules: curfews, random home checks to quash rebellion, and collective punishment for defiance. Ration lines replaced markets, deemed “fairer.” Workers received no wages, only shelter, rags, and meager food, tracked by weekly punch cards with colored stamps to thwart counterfeits. In the cold, people queued daily, their spirits as frozen as the ground.

Rule-breakers faced public punishment in town squares or streets, the severity at guards’ whims. Some dealt lighter penalties, risking their own punishment if caught. Others, crueler, relished inflicting pain, seeking any excuse. Kate’s stomach churned at Fror’s suffering.

Inside the castle, Castiel’s ego reshaped everything. Flags bearing his wolf-serpent emblem or green banners draped walls, replacing Fror’s simple aesthetic with gaudy opulence. Ornate furniture screamed newfound wealth and power. His outbursts grew frequent, Isabeth often returning from summons with red cheeks and glassy eyes, yet wearing a forced smile. Kate admired her resilience, wondering what a good man’s devotion might have wrought—perhaps a world conquered. The kiss’s fire lingered, complicating Kate’s view of Isabeth’s loyalty.

The move brought perks. Fror’s castle, unfit for a Vintr-style harem, housed the girls in guest wing rooms, granting more freedom to roam the grounds, each with an assigned guard. Kate’s guard, Dimitri—a quiet giant from a battlefield clash—exuded calm, his old-soul energy soothing. His bright smile greeted her.

“Good morning, my lady. How are you?”

“As well as I can be,” Kate replied, smiling. “How do you stay so positive, Dimitri?”

He gazed into the distance, thoughtful. “Momma said to count blessings. Focusing on what’s wrong only makes you miserable. Life’s short—don’t wish it away. Stay in the moment.”

Kate’s eyes widened, stunned by his depth. “That’s… lovely. Your mother was wise.”

Dimitri blushed. “I’ve learned to stay quiet unless it’s needed. Felt you needed it. Momma’d be glad her lessons helped.”

Kate squeezed his arm. “She sounds wonderful. I’d love to meet her.”

His face fell. “She passed a few winters ago. You’d have been friends.”

Kate’s heart sank, but a passing guard interrupted, barking, “Soldier! Keep your distance! She’s an owned woman!”

Dimitri snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!” Kate bowed, taking blame, but the guard, escorting Ionia, snapped, “Remember your place!” Ionia’s strained glance met Kate’s as they passed. Dimitri and Kate relaxed, sharing a silent look, words unneeded.

In the dining hall, girls filed in, guards eating separately, relishing their break. The routine never changed: tea with breakfast, laced with wolfsbane, silencing Tove. Kate had grown accustomed to the emptiness. Isabeth smiled warmly. “Great news! Your welcoming party’s being planned!”

“Really?” Kate asked, shocked. “Where’d you hear that?”

“From our beloved!” Isabeth said, rolling her eyes. “His Majesty says it’s time to celebrate our settling in. He’s inviting other kingdoms to solidify ties as king. Exciting, right?”

“Very!” Kate forced enthusiasm, uneasy.

Isabeth leaned closer, whispering, “He says your first night with him is soon.”

Her giddy tone felt forced, her smile strained—a rare c***k in her facade. Kate fumbled for words, opening and closing her mouth. Isabeth’s reaction was unreadable, her act thickening. “No need to be nervous! He’ll take care of you. Meanwhile, we work with seamstresses for dresses!”

“New dresses?” Kate asked, surprised. “Not our usual?”

“Nope!” Isabeth brightened genuinely. “We dress to the nines to show off, make Castiel shine!”

Kate nodded, matching her enthusiasm. “Can’t wait!”