Chapter 4: Steel and blood
931 Words
Harland reached the Snow Pack fortress as the sun began to set, the air thick with the scent of an approaching storm. He marched straight to the lower levels, past the stone guards, and into the damp darkness of the dungeons. He bowed briefly to his father, the High Alpha, before turning his icy gaze toward the bloodied man chained to the wall.
He asked the questions calmly at first, but the spy only spat at his boots.
He went ahead with the interrogation, his methods cold and efficient, until the spy’s spirit finally broke.
"They know!" the spy shrieked, his voice echoing off the wet stone. "The Red Moon knows about the alliance! They’re planning to strike the Blood Wolves first... wipe them out before your packs can truly unite. Then they’re coming for you."
Harland’s heart skipped a beat. A vision of Luna in the courtyard, sweat-streaked and defiant, flashed through his mind. If the Red Moon attacked now, she was right in the path of the slaughter.
He and his father retreated to the Council Chambers, where the elders were already gathered like a circle of vultures.
"This marriage must happen immediately," one of the elders barked, slamming a fist on the table. "We cannot wait for formalities while the Red Moon prepares their blades."
Harland stood tall, though a strange tightness gripped his chest. "Forgive me, elders, but is there no other way? I would like to know my bride before I am bound to her."
"We do not have time for the heart, Harland!" another elder snapped. "We have time only for steel and blood."
The High Alpha stood, his presence silencing the room. "Send a message to the Blood Wolves. Inform them of the Red Moon’s plan and demand a date for the wedding. As soon as possible."
He looked at his son, his eyes like polished flint. "Prepare yourselves for a bride. This meeting is dismissed."
BLOOD WOLVES TERRITORY
The rhythm of the brush against her mare’s flank was the only thing keeping Luna grounded. The stables of the Blood Wolf stronghold were dim, smelling of dry hay and old leather, a rare pocket of peace. She leaned into the work, scrubbing the dried mud from the horse’s coat until her own arms ached.
The heavy thud of boots on stone shattered the quiet.
Luna didn't look up as her mother entered, accompanied by one of the servants. The air around them felt brittle, heavy with a secondary chill that had nothing to do with the mountain wind.
"The Snow Pack has sent word," her mother said, her voice sounding like dead leaves skittering on a grave. "The Red Moon is moving. The alliance must be sealed immediately."
Luna paused, the brush hovering over the mare’s spine. "Immediately? We agreed on the next full moon. That is weeks away."
"The wedding is in two days, Luna."
The brush slipped from Luna’s hand, clattering against the floor. "Two days?" she whispered, the words fracturing in her throat. The world seemed to tilt, the familiar walls of the stable suddenly feeling like the closing lid of a casket. "I am to be packed and shipped like a crate of supplies in forty-eight hours?"
Without waiting for an answer, she bolted.
She ignored her mother’s calls, her boots pounding against the floor as she marched toward the Council Chambers. She was still covered in dust and horsehair, a sharp, ragged contrast to the polished stone of the inner sanctum.
She threw the heavy oak doors open. The room was thick with the scent of stale wine and woodsmoke. Her father, the Alpha of the Blood Wolves, sat at the head of the long table, surrounded by elders who were having a low-toned, urgent discussion.
The room went silent.
"I wish to speak," Luna demanded, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "If my life is the currency being traded, I will have a seat at this table."
One of the elders leaned forward, his face softening with a flicker of pity. "The girl has a right, Alpha. It is her soul being bartered."
Her father didn’t look at the elder. He didn't even look at Luna. He kept his gaze fixed on the map spread across the table, his jaw set like granite.
"Out," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "This is a room for warriors and strategists. You are a bride. Go to your quarters and prepare."
"A bride?" Luna’s laugh was sharp, jagged with a bitterness that silenced the room. "I am about to be sold off like some piece of junk to save your skins, yet you won't even grant me the right to sit with my elders?"
Her father finally looked up, his eyes cold and devoid of any fatherly warmth. "You will do your duty to this pack. Leave. Now."
The devastation hit her then—not as a sob, but as a hollow, freezing void in her chest. She didn't argue further. She turned and walked out, her spine rigid.
For the next two days, the Blood Wolf stronghold was a flurry of activity, but Luna was a ghost within its walls. She retreated to her room, the silence around her thickening like a shroud. she didn't speak. She simply watched the sun rise and set, waiting for the moment she would be handed over to a man she didn't know.
- Writer
