CHAPTER SEVEN

INARA’S POV

The heavy oak door of my bedchamber clicked shut, sealing out the hollow murmurs of the hall below. I leaned my back against the solid wood, my lungs hitching on a breath that felt too sharp, too cold.

Five days.

In five days, I would be loaded into a carriage and driven north, past the jagged teeth of the Iron Ridge, into the icy realm of Vargovia. A human prize bound for a Lykan court.

I didn't weep. Tears were a luxury for girls like Elizaveta girls who had fathers to fight for them, stepmothers to comfort them, and lovers to shelter them. Instead, I walked over to the tall mahogany wardrobe in the corner and pulled open its heavy doors.

My dresses hung in orderly rows: pale blues, soft creams, and silver-threaded silks. The wardrobe of a proper human lady, tailored for courtly dances, tea on the terrace, and a quiet life as Maksim Petrov's wife.

I reached out and grabbed a handful of fine lace, ripping it away from the bodice of a sky-blue gown. The fabric tore with a harsh, satisfying screech.

None of this would serve me in the north.

For the next two hours, I packed.I bypassed the delicate silks and pastel muslins, choosing instead my heaviest woolens, riding trousers I had hidden at the back, thick leather boots, and every fur-lined cloak I owned. I packed silver hairpins not for beauty, but because silver was a weapon against the wolf folk, should I ever need a sharp point in the dark.

A soft, hesitant knock sounded at my door.

I didn't look up from the trunk at the foot of my bed. "Go away

The door creaked open anyway. It wasn't my stepmother.

Elizaveta stood in the doorway, wringing her hands, her eyes swollen and red from crying. She wore a gown of rich rose silk a gift from Maksim sent just that morning to celebrate their newly registered betrothal.

"Inara..." she whispered, her voice trembling like a bruised leaf. "May I come in?"

"You are already in," I said, my voice dead and flat. I folded a heavy wool sweater and shoved it into the corner of the iron bound trunk.

Elizaveta took two tentative steps inside, closing the door softly behind her. She looked around the room, taking in the open trunks, the torn silk on the floor, and the bare dress form in the corner.

"I... I came to say I am sorry," she stammered, fresh tears welling in her blue eyes. "I never wanted this for you, Inara. I swear it! When Maksim came to me, I didn't think I didn't know the envoy was coming! I didn't know Father would—"

"You didn't know?" I stopped, turning slowly to face her.

Elizaveta flinched, taking a small step back.

"You didn't know that sleeping with my betrothed would destroy my marriage?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm as I stepped toward her. "You didn't know that stealing my place at Maksim's side would leave me unprotected? Or did you simply not care, so long as you got what you wanted?"

"I love him!" Elizaveta cried out, placing a hand over her heart. "Maksim loves me, Inara! He never loved you he told me so! He said you were too cold and distant! You held him at arm's length for five years!"

A sharp, mocking laugh burst from my chest. "I held him at arm's length out of respect for our customs! I treated him with dignity! And you gave yourself to him in a pantry like a tavern wench!"

Elizaveta gasped, her face flushing crimson with a mixture of shame and anger. "You are cruel!"

"I am honest," I snapped, closing the distance between us until I was looking down into her pale, tear-streaked face. "Do not come into my room wearing the silk my former fiancé bought you, weeping fake tears over a sacrifice you forced me to make, and call me cruel. You took my future to save yourself from scandal. Own it, Elizaveta. Be woman enough to admit you threw me to the wolves so you could play house with Maksim Petrov."

Elizaveta shook her head frantically, her lip trembling. "Father said you are strong! He said you would survive Vargovia, whereas I—"

"Father lies to himself so he can sleep at night," I interrupted, leaning closer. "And you let him lie so you don't have to feel guilty."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway made us both freeze.

The door was pushed open wider. My father stood in the doorway, his coat removed, looking aged and exhausted. He looked at Elizaveta, then at me, taking in the tense posture between us.

"Elizaveta, leave us," my father ordered softly.

"Father—" she began.

"Go to your chambers," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Elizaveta cast one last look at me before hurrying past our father and disappearing down the corridor.

My father stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He looked at the open trunks on the floor, the stripped wardrobe, and the lone candle burning on my desk.

"The Lykan envoy, Commander Kaelen, has requested an audience with you before he departs for the border garrison," my father said, keeping his hands behind his back. "He is waiting in the study."

I raised an eyebrow. "The wolf wants to speak to his tribute?"

"Do not use that tone, Inara," my father said, though his voice lacked its usual booming authority. "Commander Kaelen is the Alpha's right hand. It is wise to show him courtesy."

"Courtesy?" I let out a low, bitter sound. "I am being bartered away like cattle to keep your borders safe, Father. Pardon me if my manners are lacking."

My father closed his eyes for a brief moment, a muscle twitching violently in his jaw. "You think I enjoyed making this choice?"

"I think you didn't hesitate," I replied simply.

He opened his eyes, and for a second, I saw a flicker of regret deep within them. But he quickly smoothed it over, putting on his stern master of the house mask once more.

"Go to the study," he said flatly. "Do not disgrace House Volkov."

I didn't answer him. I smoothed down the front of my grey wool skirts, brushed a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear, and walked past him out into the hall.

The fire in the study crackled loudly, casting long, dancing shadows across the leather bound books and heavy furniture.

Commander Kaelen stood by the high arched window, staring out at the mist shrouded gardens. Up close, without his heavy fur cloak, his size was staggering. His broad shoulders filled his dark leather tunic, and the line of his jaw looked as though it had been carved from granite. A deep, jagged scar ran from his left temple down to his cheekbone a souvenir from some northern battle.

As the heavy door closed behind me, he turned slowly.

His eyes were not human. They were a vivid, piercing gold that seemed to track my every breath, my every pulse point,

"Lady Inara," Kaelen rumbled, his voice low and raspy, like grinding stone.

"Commander," I said, keeping my head held high as I walked toward the hearth, placing the heavy oak desk between us. "My father says you requested to speak with me."

Kaelen stepped away from the window, his movements silent despite his massive frame. He moved like a creature accustomed to hunting in deep snow.

"I wished to observe the woman I am escorting to the Lord Alpha," Kaelen said, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied my face, my posture, the tight set of my jaw. "Most human maidens weep when the decree is read. They faint. They beg their fathers to pay the gold exemption."

"My father's gold is spent securing my sister's dowry," I said coolly. "And weeping has never solved a single problem in my life."

A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of Kaelen's scarred mouth. "No. I suppose it hasn't."

He stepped closer to the desk, leaning his large, leather-gloved hands on the dark wood.

"You do not fear us," Kaelen observed. It wasn't a question.

"I only fear freezing to death in your mountains," I replied, staring directly into his golden eyes without flinching. "And wasting my life in a place where I am not wanted. But fear your kind? No, Commander. Wolves are dangerous, but at least a wolf wears its teeth on the outside.

Kaelen went entirely still. For a long, heart stopping moment, the only sound in the room was the snapping of the logs in the hearth.

Then, Kaelen threw back his head and let out a deep, booming laugh that rattled the glass in the windowpanes.

"Well said, Lady Volkov," Kaelen said, his eyes gleaming with a fierce, approving light as his laughter subsided. He straightened up, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "The Sovereign Citadel is not an easy place. The cold bites deep, and the Lord Alpha does not tolerate weakness. But you... you have iron in your spine."

"Iron is cold," I murmured, looking away toward the fire. "And it rusts if left out in the rain."

"Iron also makes a fine blade," Kaelen countered softly. He took a step back toward the door. "Pack warmly, Lady Inara. We ride at dawn in five days. And bring that sharp tongue of yours. You are going to need it."