Chapter Nine
619 Words
The guard led the way through a cramped back hallway hidden right inside the Keep’s walls. The air was stale, smelling of damp earth and old rusty iron.
The guard led me into a tiny, poorly lit room that looked like a makeshift archive. The place was crammed to the ceiling with shelves full of old account books, regional maps, and the family trees of all the different packs.
"My name is Silas," he said, his voice as rough as grinding stones.
He didn't look at me as he spoke; he was busy pulling a heavy, dust-covered book from a shelf.
"I used to head up security, not until Aldric replaced everyone in the inner circle with his own wolves. Now, I’m just a ghost in the machine."
"Why are you helping me?" I asked, my voice echoing in the small room. "If the King finds out, he’ll have your head."
Silas let out a short, bitter laugh.
"The King is completely blinded by the bond. He thinks he can fight a war with his heart, but Aldric is playing chess. He's already rewriting the history of your arrival. According to the court, you’re not his mate; you’re just some human asset he stole from an enemy chief to tear the alliance apart."
My stomach turned. "That's a lie."
"Truth holds zero weight when everyone in court is just looking out for their own ambition," Silas countered.
He slammed the book open. It was a list of names—the Alpha coalition Wren had spent months building.
"Aldric and Wren aren't just going to challenge Ronan; they are going to prove he is 'unfit' by showing he cannot even manage even his own household. Every day you stay hidden in his room, you are the proof of his weakness."
"Then what do I do?" I asked, stepping toward the table.
"You stop being a secret," Silas repeated. "You need to learn the politics of this place, the weaknesses of the families involved, and the one thing Wren doesn't have: the history of this land."
He pointed to a map of the five chiefdoms.
"You come from Edevane. You know the tunnels, the supply lines, and exactly how the human chiefs think. Ronan is a Lycan; he only looks at raw strength, but he doesn't understand the leverage. You do."
I looked at the map, and for the first time since I’d left my father’s house, I didn't feel like a victim. I felt like a strategist.
I started tracing the lines on the map, remembering all the conversations I’d overheard back when I was a kid—the trade routes, the secret paths, and how easily the human lords could be bought because of their cravings for Lycan favor.
"Wren thinks I’m a trophy," I said, a cold, sharp determination settling in my chest.
"Let her keep thinking that. While she’s busy watching the King, I’ll be taking apart her coalition."
So the royal banquet came, it was a test of survival disguised as a celebration.
Ronan had told me to stay away, but I didn't listen. I threw a heavy cloak over a simple dress, keeping my face hidden in the shadows as I stuck to the outskirts of the Great Hall.
The entire room was just a sea of flashing silk, expensive jewels, and the dangerous, quiet grace of Alpha wolves.
I saw them across the room: Aldric and Wren. They stood together, i could see in them a united front of dark intentions, sharp calculated malice.
Wren looked radiant, her eyes scanning the crowd, looking for a sign of the 'maid.'
- Writer
