The Fox and The Throne

6

Chapter Five

The Alpha Who Wanted Me

The gates of Ironfang came into view just before sunset. Lyra lifted her head from the carriage window and stared at the massive stone walls surrounding the territory. They were taller than the walls around Mooncrest, with several watchtowers positioned along the edges, and warriors stood at each entrance, armed and alert as the convoy approached.

She had heard stories about Ironfang before, but she had never had a reason to come this far from Mooncrest. Now she was being brought there without even being asked. The carriage slowed as they neared the gates. Ryker sat across from her, watching her reaction.

"You'll get used to Ironfang."

Lyra looked at him. "I don't plan on staying long enough to."

His mouth curved slightly. "We'll see."

She turned back toward the window. The gates opened, and the convoy passed through.

Ironfang was different from Mooncrest. Mooncrest was elegant and carefully maintained, designed to reflect the status of the Alpha, while Ironfang was more rugged. The buildings were large and made mostly of dark stone and wood, with wide courtyards between them, and warriors moved through the territory in groups, many of them returning from training. There were no curious smiles when they saw Lyra, only stares. People whispered as the carriage passed. Some looked at her openly while others nudged their companions and murmured something she couldn't hear. Lyra shifted in her seat. She was used to being watched in Mooncrest, but those looks had always carried contempt or pity. These were different: curiosity, interest, possession. She didn't like any of them.

The carriage stopped in front of the main house. Ryker stepped out and waited, but Lyra ignored his offered hand and climbed down herself. His expression barely changed.

"Come."

He led her into the house. Several servants moved out of his way as they walked through the entrance, and Lyra noticed the way they looked at her too. She wondered what they had been told. Probably nothing good. Ryker took her through the main hall and up a wide staircase.

"You'll have whatever you need while you're here."

Lyra glanced at him. "I don't need anything."

"You'll still have it."

She said nothing. They continued down the corridor until Ryker stopped in front of a door and opened it. Lyra stepped inside and paused. The room was beautiful. There was a large bed with clean sheets, a wardrobe against one wall, a dressing table beside the window, and a small sitting area near the fireplace. The curtains were thick and dark, and someone had already placed fresh clothes inside the wardrobe.

She looked around slowly. "This is my room?"

"For as long as you're here."

Lyra frowned. She had expected servants' quarters, a small room at the back of the house where she could sleep after finishing her work, which was all she knew. Instead, Ryker had given her a room larger and more comfortable than anything she had been allowed in Mooncrest. It should have felt like an improvement, but it didn't, because she knew there was a reason for it. She turned toward him. "And what exactly do you expect from me?"

Ryker didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on her before meeting her eyes again. "You're Draven's mate. I doubt he sent you here simply to clean my floors."

Lyra's stomach tightened. "I'm not yours."

"Draven disagrees."

The words hit harder than she expected. Her jaw tightened. "Draven doesn't get to decide that."

"He already did."

"He sent me here for an alliance."

"An alliance has to benefit both sides."

Lyra stared at him. "And I'm the benefit?"

Ryker smiled faintly. "You understand quickly."

She hated that smile. "You're disgusting."

His expression didn't change. "I haven't done anything to you."

"Not yet."

For a moment, his eyes darkened. Then he stepped away from the doorway. "Get some rest. Dinner will be served downstairs."

"I won't be joining you."

"You will."

He left before she could respond. Lyra closed the door behind him and leaned against it, staring at the wood for several seconds. Then she turned and looked at the room again. Everything was too comfortable, too deliberate. She walked to the mirror and studied her reflection. Her hair was messy from the journey and she looked exhausted. She touched the side of her face, wondering what Ryker saw when he looked at her. Whatever it was, she didn't want it.

Her thoughts returned to Draven, and she could still hear his voice. You'll come back. She had held onto those words during the entire journey. Maybe he really did mean it. Maybe the arrangement was temporary, and once whatever political problem existed between Mooncrest and Ironfang was settled, Draven would come for her.

The thought made her chest ache. She knew she shouldn't still love him. After everything he had done, after watching him hand her over without even trying to stop it, she should have hated him. But love wasn't something she could turn off just because someone had hurt her. She still wanted him to come back for her. She still wanted him to look at her and realize what he had done. Lyra looked away from the mirror.

"How could you look at me and decide this was acceptable?"

The room offered no answer.

A few hours later, Lyra reluctantly made her way downstairs. She had no intention of eating with Ryker, but she was hungry, and refusing food wouldn't change anything. The main hall was quieter than when she had arrived. Ryker sat at the head of the table, speaking with two warriors, and Lyra took a seat at the far end. One of the warriors glanced at her before continuing his conversation.

"Scouts returned from the northern border."

Ryker's expression became serious. "What did they see?"

"Darkclaw."

Lyra's hand stopped halfway to her glass. Ryker leaned back slightly. "How close?"

"They haven't crossed into our territory, but they're close enough to be watching the border."

"Did they see Theron?"

The name made Lyra's stomach twist. She lowered her glass. "What's happening?"

The warriors looked at her, and Ryker answered. "Darkclaw has been moving closer to our territory."

"Why?"

"We don't know yet."

"Are you going to fight them?"

"If they attack."

"And if they don't?"

"Then we'll wait."

She glanced between him and the warriors. The conversation suddenly seemed far more important than she had realized. This wasn't simply a pack protecting its borders. Ironfang was preparing for something, and the thought of war made her uneasy. Ryker noticed her expression.

"You know his name."

Lyra looked at him. "Whose?"

"Theron."

Her fingers tightened around the glass. Ryker studied her carefully. "You reacted the moment I said it."

Lyra looked away. "I know who he is."

"You hate him."

She looked back at him. "He killed my parents."

The table fell silent, and Ryker's expression changed slightly. "I didn't know that."

"Now you do."

He studied her for another moment. "And you've wanted revenge all these years?"

"Yes."

There was no hesitation in her answer. Ryker leaned back in his chair. "Then you may finally get the revenge you've been waiting for."

Lyra looked toward the windows. Outside, the last light of sunset had faded, leaving the forest dark. She had spent years believing that one day she would face Theron Ravencrest. She had imagined that moment countless times: confronting him, demanding answers, making him understand what he had taken from her. But she had never imagined it might come because she was sitting inside another Alpha's territory, waiting for a war to begin.

A strange warmth spread through her chest, and she pressed her palm against it. It had been happening more often lately, and she didn't know what it meant. She only knew that it always seemed to appear when something connected to Darkclaw came too close. She looked toward the forest again.

A howl suddenly echoed in the distance, and every conversation in the hall stopped. The warriors exchanged looks. Ryker slowly stood. Another howl followed, deeper and louder than the first. Lyra watched everyone react, but she couldn't understand what they heard in it. To her it was simply a wolf calling through the darkness, yet the warmth beneath her skin grew stronger. The feeling wasn't fear. It was something else, something she couldn't name.

Another howl sounded beyond the trees. Lyra stared into the darkness. For some reason, the sound felt strangely familiar.

She didn't know why.