The Fox and The Throne

4

Chapter Four

A Bargain Made of Me

Lyra was summoned to the Alpha's study just before sunset. She knew something was wrong the moment the servant came looking for her.

"Alpha Draven wants you."

Lyra looked up from the clothes she was folding. "Now?"

"Now."

She placed the clothes aside and followed her. The corridors were quieter than usual, since most of the pack's attention was still fixed on the northern border, where Darkclaw's movements had everyone on edge. When Lyra reached the study, she stopped outside the door. Two guards stood on either side, and she frowned. Why were there guards?

"Go in," one of them said.

Lyra opened the door. Draven stood near the window with his back to her, and Ryker Stone was there too. Her stomach tightened. She had only seen the Ironfang Alpha from a distance during the gathering, but his eyes found her immediately and travelled over her slowly. Too slowly. She felt uncomfortable beneath his stare.

"Come closer," Draven said.

She stepped inside.

Ryker smiled. "So this is Lyra."

Lyra glanced at Draven, then back at Ryker. "You know my name."

"I've heard a lot about you."

She didn't like the way he said it. Draven finally turned toward her. "You're going to Ironfang."

Lyra stared at him. "What?"

"For a few weeks."

"Why?"

"Ryker has agreed to support Mooncrest while we deal with Darkclaw."

Lyra looked between them. "And what does that have to do with me?"

Neither answered immediately. Then Ryker stepped closer. "Everything has a price."

Lyra's stomach sank. She looked at Draven. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"You're sending me to Ironfang?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Draven's expression remained unreadable. "Because I've decided it is necessary."

"No." The word came out quietly but firmly.

Draven's eyes hardened. "You don't get to refuse."

"I'm your mate."

The words hung between them. Ryker's expression shifted slightly, but Draven didn't react. Lyra searched his face for something, anything, concern or regret or a sign that this wasn't really happening. There was nothing.

"You know what Ironfang is like," she said. "You know what people will say."

"I know."

"And you're still sending me?"

"Yes."

Her chest tightened. Ryker stepped closer again, and Lyra instinctively moved back. His smile returned. "You'll be treated well."

She looked at him. "I don't believe you."

He laughed softly. "I think you'll change your mind."

Lyra turned back to Draven. "Tell him no." He said nothing. "Draven." His jaw tightened at the sound of his name, and she took a step toward him. "You can't do this to me."

"I can."

The words were quiet and certain. Lyra stared at him, unable to understand how the man in front of her could be the same one who had once held her hand beneath the moon and promised that no one would ever hurt her. She felt foolish for ever believing him.

Ryker extended his hand. "Come."

Lyra didn't move. She looked at Draven one last time, and he didn't stop Ryker. That was all the answer she needed. She turned away, but before she could reach the door, Draven spoke.

"Lyra."

She stopped.

"Stay."

Ryker stepped back. Draven walked toward her, his expression giving nothing away, and when he reached her he lowered his voice. "Don't make a scene."

Lyra stared at him. His face was close enough that she could see every detail of his eyes.

"It's only for a few weeks," he said quietly.

Her heart sank. "A few weeks?"

"Yes."

"And then what?"

His gaze held hers. "You'll come back."

Something about the certainty in his voice unsettled her, but Lyra was too hurt to question it. She stepped away from him. "Fine." Her voice trembled despite her effort to control it. "If this is what you want, I'll go."

Draven said nothing.

Lyra walked out of the study without looking back. She didn't see the brief change in Draven's expression after the door closed, or the way his hands tightened at his sides. And she certainly didn't know that the agreement he had just made with Ryker was not as simple as it appeared.

Lyra packed in silence. She had very little to take: a few dresses, two pairs of shoes, and some personal belongings she had kept hidden beneath her bed. She folded each piece carefully, trying to keep her hands from shaking. She still couldn't believe it. Draven had given her to another Alpha. Her own mate, the man who was supposed to protect her, had looked her in the eyes and told her to go, for a few weeks, as if that made it better.

A knock sounded on the door. Lyra didn't answer, and the door opened anyway. Vivienne stood there, and Lyra's expression hardened.

"What do you want?"

Vivienne leaned against the doorway. "I heard you're leaving."

Lyra returned to her packing. "Apparently."

"For Ironfang."

"Yes."

Vivienne smiled. "Interesting."

"What?"

"I just didn't think Draven would actually do it."

Lyra's hands stopped. "Do what?"

"Send you away."

There was something strange in Vivienne's expression, almost amusement. Lyra frowned. "Why are you so interested?"

"I'm not." Vivienne pushed herself away from the door. "I just wanted to see how you were taking it."

"How do you think?"

Vivienne's smile returned. "I think you'll be fine."

Lyra said nothing.

Vivienne walked toward her. "Ryker has always liked beautiful women."

Lyra's stomach turned. "Then he can admire someone else."

Vivienne laughed. "You really don't understand how these things work."

Lyra closed her bag. "Apparently neither do you."

Vivienne's expression tightened. For a moment the two women stared at each other, and then she smiled again. "Enjoy Ironfang."

She turned and left. Lyra watched the door close, bothered by the conversation and unable to say why. Maybe it was the satisfaction in Vivienne's voice, or the fact that she seemed almost pleased. Lyra pushed the thought away. She had more important things to worry about.

Outside, the pack was preparing for her departure. A carriage waited near the main gate with two Ironfang warriors beside it, and Ryker was nowhere in sight. Lyra stepped outside with her bag and looked back at Mooncrest. The estate had been her home for years, and even after everything, some part of her had still believed she belonged here. Now she wasn't so sure.

"Lyra."

She turned. Draven stood several feet away. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He looked at her bag. "You're ready."

"Yes."

He nodded. "Good."

Lyra waited. Maybe he would say something, tell her he was sorry, or finally explain why he was doing this. He didn't. She laughed softly, without humor. "That's all?"

Draven's expression changed. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know." She looked down. "Anything."

He stepped closer. "You're coming back."

Lyra looked into his eyes. "Why are you so sure?"

He didn't answer. She studied him, and for a moment she thought there was something behind his expression, something he wasn't telling her. But before she could ask, a horn sounded from the road. Ryker's convoy had arrived, and Draven stepped back.

"You should go."

Lyra nodded and picked up her bag. As she walked toward the carriage, she felt his gaze following her. She almost turned around, but she didn't. One of the Ironfang warriors opened the carriage door and reached for her bag, and Lyra handed it over and climbed inside. Before the door closed, she looked back one last time. Draven was still standing there, watching, his expression impossible to read.

The carriage began to move, and Mooncrest slowly disappeared behind her. Lyra leaned against the seat and closed her eyes. She didn't know what waited for her in Ironfang. She didn't know why Ryker had wanted her, or why Draven had agreed so easily. And she didn't know why a small voice inside her kept telling her she was missing something.

Outside, the forest stretched endlessly into the distance. Lyra opened her eyes. For a brief second, that strange heat returned beneath her skin, and this time she felt it in her chest. She pressed a hand against it.

"What is happening to me?"

No one answered. The carriage continued deeper into the forest, toward Ironfang, toward Ryker, and toward a future Lyra could never have imagined.