Chapter 2:the prince of ice
690 Words
The sun was high and pale, offering no warmth to the courtyard as the clock struck noon. A strange, biting wind began to roll down from the northern peaks, carrying the scent of pine and ancient ice. Luna stood on the steps of the Great Hall, flanked by her parents. She had traded her training leathers for a formal tunic of deep charcoal, but her hand still ghosted toward the place where her dagger usually hung. She felt exposed. Raw.
"Steady, Luna," her father commanded, his voice a low warning.
Then, they appeared.
The Snow Pack didn't ride horses; they ran. A dozen massive, white-furred wolves crested the ridge, shifting into human form in a synchronized, brutal display of grace. At their center stood the Prince. He was taller than her father’s tallest Enforcer, with hair the color of a frozen lake and eyes that didn't seem to hold a single spark of humanity. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on the gravel like breaking bone.
His gaze locked onto Luna, scanning her from her boots to the fresh bruise on her jawline. "So," he said, his voice a cold blade that sliced through the silence. "This is the warrior-bride I was promised."
Luna didn't bow. "I am no one’s promise," she spat.
The Prince’s lips didn't curve into a smile, but a dark, predatory light flickered in his eyes. "We shall see."
Later, Silas dismissed the guards, leaving Luna and the Prince alone in the shadowed corridor.
"I am Harland, son of the High Alpha of the Snow Pack," he said. "The Snow Pack has the numbers and the fury to break the Red Moon's front lines, but we lack the teeth. Your pack—the Blood Wolves—you create the finest steel in the North. My men are dying because their blades shatter. I am here to ensure that stops."
Luna looked at his hands—calloused and steady. "So I'm just a trade? A shipment of swords in a silk dress?"
"I am not ready for a wife, Luna," Harland said, and for a second, the icy mask slipped. "But I have no choice. And neither do you. We can spend our lives clawing at each other’s throats, or we can try to understand the people we are being forced to protect."
Luna felt the sharp edge of her hate dull, just a fraction. "Tomorrow at noon," she murmured. "You’re late for the war, Harland."
"Then let us make sure we don't arrive late to the victory," he replied.
The dinner that followed was a sea of tension. Luna sat stiffly, her appetite gone, until she caught Harland staring. To her shock, he gave a slow, deliberate wink. Her heart skipped a beat—a traitorous thud. Flustered, she stood up abruptly. "I need air," she muttered.
In the corridor, she slammed into her father. "You’re doing a great job in there," Silas said with a small smile.
"Job?" Luna recoiled. "Is that all I am now? A task?"
"Watch your tone, young lady," Silas hissed, his Alpha aura flaring.
Luna didn't wait for his answer. She pushed past him, heading straight for the courtyard. She needed a blade in her hand.
The courtyard was bathed in silver moonlight. Luna moved with lethal grace, shifting into her wolf form and back again in a blur of charcoal fur and steel. She exhaled, sweat dripping from her chin. Only then did she sense him. Harland was leaning against a stone pillar.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"My soon-to-be bride went missing," Harland said. "I thought I might find you here. That’s a fine sword." He stepped closer and reached out a hand to help her up. Luna ignored it, pushing herself up on her own.
"Tomorrow at dawn, we train," Harland called out as she turned to leave. "You can show me what you’ve really got, warrior lady."
He let out a short, low chuckle. Luna stood there, stunned. Did he just laugh?
- Writer
