Chapter 14 - A Mother’s Bargain
1213 Words
Ingrid stood near the tall window of her private chamber, her hands resting lightly against the cold glass as she stared into the darkness outside.
The gardens of the Clark estate stretched far beyond the balcony below. Even at night the land seemed alive. Torches burned along the distant patrol roads, marking the borders of the territory.
Beyond them lay forests.
Beyond the forests—other packs.
Other dangers.
But tonight Ingrid was not thinking about enemies.
She was thinking about her son.
The wind outside stirred the branches of the old trees in the courtyard. Their shadows moved slowly across the stone paths like silent ghosts.
A soft knock sounded behind her.
Ingrid did not turn immediately.
“Come in.”
The door opened quietly.
Tammy entered the room carrying a silver tray.
Tammy had served Ingrid since the day Ingrid became Luna of the Clark pack. Over the years she had become more than a servant. She was a confidant, a quiet witness to the burdens that came with ruling a powerful territory.
On the tray rested a porcelain teapot, two delicate cups, and a small bowl of honey.
Tammy placed the tray on the small table beside Ingrid's chair.
She poured the tea slowly, letting the steam rise in gentle spirals.
Then she waited.
Tammy knew better than to rush her lady.
Finally Ingrid turned.
Her expression looked tired.
“You found the prophet?”
Tammy lowered her eyes slightly.
“No, my lady.”
Ingrid closed her eyes for a brief moment.
Of course not.
Finding the prophetess had never been easy.
There was only one known prophet serving nearly ten wolf packs across the northern territories. She traveled constantly, appearing and disappearing between borders like a wandering spirit.
Sometimes she stayed in a territory for a single day.
Sometimes she vanished for months.
Tracking her movements was nearly impossible.
Tammy continued quietly.
“The border guards near the eastern ridge said they had not seen her pass through.”
Ingrid sighed and slowly moved toward the chair.
For several seconds she said nothing.
Her thoughts had already traveled far into the past.
Back to the night Anthony was born.
The memory had never faded.
Not even after all these years.
The storm that night had been violent.
Rain had hammered against the roof of the estate while thunder rolled across the mountains.
Inside the manor, healers moved anxiously through the halls.
Anthony had been born far too early.
He was small.
Weak.
His breathing had been shallow and uneven.
The pack healers had spoken in hushed voices outside Ingrid's chamber.
They believed the child might not survive.
Ingrid had refused to accept that.
Anthony was the heir to the Clark pack.
The future alpha.
He had to live.
She had spent weeks after his birth searching for anything that could help him.
Ancient remedies.
Healing rituals.
Traveling shamans.
None of them could promise what she needed.
Finally someone had spoken of a witch who lived far beyond the mountain passes.
A woman who practiced magic older than the wolf packs themselves.
Ingrid had traveled there in secret.
She still remembered the witch's hut hidden among the rocks.
The smell of smoke and herbs.
The woman's pale eyes watching her carefully.
The witch had held the small infant in her arms and studied him silently.
Then she spoke.
“The boy will live.”
Hope had flooded Ingrid's chest.
But the witch continued.
“He will never be a strong alpha.”
The words had felt like ice.
A weak alpha could not rule a powerful pack.
A weak alpha invited challengers.
Wars.
Bloodshed.
Ingrid had begged the witch to change his fate.
To give him strength.
The witch had stared at her for a long moment.
Then she said the words Ingrid would remember forever.
“Everything has a price.”
Ingrid had been ready.
Gold.
Land.
Rare artifacts.
She would have given anything.
But the witch's price was not something Ingrid expected.
“The boy will never love,” the witch said quietly.
“No wolf will awaken emotion in him.”
“No woman will stir his heart.”
“He will rule.”
“He will lead.”
“But love will never belong to him.”
For the first time that night, Ingrid had hesitated.
Love was not a small thing to sacrifice.
But neither was her son's life.
And neither was the future of the Clark pack.
After a long silence—
she agreed.
Tammy watched Ingrid carefully now.
“You are thinking about the witch again,” Tammy said gently.
Ingrid sat down slowly.
“Yes.”
Tammy handed her the tea.
Ingrid wrapped her hands around the warm cup.
Sometimes she wondered if she had made the right choice.
Anthony had grown strong.
Stronger than anyone expected.
Now he was respected by nearly every pack in the region.
But there was something missing in him.
A distance.
A quiet emptiness.
He was calm.
Rational.
Disciplined.
Yet Ingrid had never once seen him truly moved by anyone.
Not by anger.
Not by affection.
Not by love.
Tammy spoke again.
“Anthony will need a Luna eventually.”
Ingrid nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“A Luna must stand beside him.”
“Not simply admire him.”
Tammy poured more tea.
“There is Miss Amber.”
Ingrid's expression changed slightly.
Amber Littlewood.
Beautiful.
Intelligent.
Politically useful.
The daughter of Alpha Leonard Littlewood.
An alliance with that pack would strengthen both territories.
Ingrid knew all of that.
But something about the girl unsettled her.
“She is impressive,” Ingrid admitted quietly.
“But when I speak with her…”
Tammy waited.
“In my heart I feel something strange.”
“What kind of feeling?”
Ingrid frowned slightly.
“As if I should leave the room.”
Tammy smiled faintly.
“That is not usually a good sign.”
Ingrid leaned back in her chair.
“A Luna must have a spine.”
“She must stand beside the alpha when storms come.”
Tammy nodded.
“There will be many guests at tomorrow's charity gathering.”
Ingrid sighed softly.
The annual charity event.
A night of diplomacy disguised as generosity.
Leaders from neighboring packs would attend.
Influential families.
Merchants.
Potential allies.
And rivals.
Amber Littlewood would certainly be there.
Tammy stirred the honey slowly into her tea.
“The Littlewood household travels with many servants.”
Ingrid raised an eyebrow.
Tammy smiled slightly.
“Servants talk.”
“If I listen carefully tomorrow…”
She shrugged.
“I might learn more about Miss Amber.”
Ingrid allowed herself a small smile.
Tammy had always been excellent at gathering information.
“Very well,” Ingrid said.
Tammy nodded.
“I'll ask a few careful questions.”
Silence settled again in the chamber.
The fire crackled softly.
Outside the wind continued to move through the trees.
Ingrid looked toward the dark gardens once more.
Her son ruled that land.
He had power.
Respect.
Authority.
Everything she had fought to give him.
Everything except one thing.
Ingrid closed her eyes briefly.
Love.
And sometimes—
late at night—
she wondered whether the price she had paid had been far too high.
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