Chapter 7
678 Words
The long tables were crowded with wolves from every corner of the mountain. Platters of roasted venison, steaming stew, and coarse bread filled the air with a haze of spice and smoke. But even as teeth tore at meat and mugs clattered against wood, tension hung sharper than steel. This was no feast—it was a waiting game.
Yvonne sat between her brother and Maya. Her brother ate in silence, his jaw hard, while Maya chattered nervously, glancing between packs as though expecting a fight to break out at any moment. Yvonne picked at her plate, more interested in the room than the food.
The Frostborne sat nearest the fire, voices clipped, their matron correcting anyone who dared interrupt her. The Emberfangs were louder still, boasting of scars and victories. The Hollow Pines kept to themselves, their eyes hooded, watchful as owls. The Ravenpack’s Luna, Diane, was serene even in the noise, her calm presence oddly commanding.
Then the Sky Wolves entered.
Kaelen walked ahead with his usual swagger, shoulders thrown back as though the keep belonged to him. But it was Lux who drew the room taut. He moved with quiet ease, his presence rippling outward like a shadow across water. He did not demand attention; he bent it without effort.
Yvonne felt her chest tighten when his gaze swept the hall. For a moment—too brief, too deliberate—it caught hers. Heat stirred beneath her skin, and she quickly lowered her eyes to her plate. Maya’s hand brushed her arm under the table, a teasing squeeze that made her scowl.
Talk turned, as it always did, to the trials.
“They say the council will announce the names at midnight,” the Frostborne matron declared, cutting into a slab of meat as if it were an enemy. “Ten will be chosen. Only ten, from among us all.”
“And only the strongest should even be considered,” growled an Emberfang elder, slamming his mug onto the table.
“Strength without sense breaks faster than bone,” Luna Diane said smoothly, her calm voice sliding through the din. “If the trials are meant to decide leadership, then wisdom must weigh as much as muscle.”
“Wisdom does not win blood,” the Emberfang spat back.
“Nor does pride,” she countered, without raising her voice.
The hall hushed for a beat. Yvonne’s lips twitched at the Ravenpack Luna’s composure. She had always admired her Luna and her way with words. If only she could be that calm when speaking.
Her brother leaned toward her. “Don’t even think about it,” he whispered.
But she already was. She imagined herself in the trial—dust rising, blades gleaming, wolves circling. Her heart thudded with a dangerous thrill.
“Yvonne,” he warned.
She smiled faintly, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “What if I want to?”
Maya, overhearing, choked on her stew and shot Yvonne a wide-eyed look. Yvonne only shrugged, though her mind was already spinning. Being underestimated was its own weapon. They would not expect her to last, and that advantage tempted her more than she could admit.
It was Lux’s voice that pulled her from her thoughts.
“The trials do not care for boasting,” he said, his tone quiet but cutting through the hall all the same. “Only for those who can endure when the night turns longest.”
Again, his eyes swept over the table, brief, sharp, and lingering on her just long enough to make her pulse trip. She matched his gaze, refusing to look away first. She might have imagined the slight lifting of his lips before he looked away. She turned back to her brother, but the mark of it lingered like a hand against her skin.
When the meal ended, wolves dispersed to sharpen blades and whisper strategies. The night thickened, torches guttered, and anticipation coiled in the keep’s cold stone halls.
At midnight, the pack leaders would gather, and ten names would be spoken.
- Writer
