CHAPTER SIX

INARA’S POV

The morning after my confrontation with Elizaveta in the greenhouse broke cold, grey, and completely unmerciful. The rain had ceased, leaving behind a thick, heavy fog that clung to the iron gates and windowpanes of the Volkov estate like wet linen.

I sat at the small writing desk in my chamber, staring blankly at the dark wood. Sleep had not come to me. My mind kept looping through the look in Elizaveta’s eyes the quiet, selfish desperation disguised as fragile innocence. I felt hollowed out, as though everything I had been over the past years had been scraped clean with a dull knife.

A sudden, sharp commotion echoed from the grand courtyard below, shattering the stillness of the morning.

Heavy, iron-shod hooves clattered violently against the wet cobblestones, followed by the deep, resonant ring of armor. I stood up, pulled my wool shawl around my shoulders, and walked out onto the landing. Below, in the grand foyer, servants were scurrying like panicked mice, throwing open the high mahogany double doors.

A tall figure stepped across the threshold, radiating an absolute, suffocating authority. He wore armor forged from dark, burnished steel, etched with silver filigree depicting a snarling wolf's head. Over his shoulders draped a cloak of thick black fur, dusted with faint specks of northern snow. He was a Lykan envoy from the north.

My father hurried down the stairs, his face pale, his dressing gown half-fastened. Sofia hovered at the top of the landing, pulling a frantic, half dressed Elizaveta behind her skirts.

"Lord Volkov," the messenger’s voice rumbled, deep and resonant, echoing off the high stone arches like thunder. He pulled a heavy parchment scroll from his iron plated belt, sealed with black and silver wax. "By order of the Sovereign Court of Vargovia, the ancient blood tribute is hereby invoked. The Northern Alpha requires a match to maintain the peace of the border territories. One eligible, unbetrothed noble daughter from each selected household must be surrendered to the citadel within ten days."

The blood-tribute. It was an ancient law, a terrifying fairy tale brought to life. But as the messenger read the words unbetrothed noble daughter I didn't turn to see if my father would defend us.

I looked down at Elizaveta, cowering behind her mother. Then I looked at my father, who was already slowly lifting his eyes from the parchment to look up the stairs at me.

In that single glance, the entire horror of the previous forty eight hours clicked into place.

Yesterday, my father hadn't just saved Elizaveta from public ruin by transferring Maksim to her. He had officially bound her in a contract sealed by the city elders, making her legally betrothed and utterly untouchable by the Lykan decree. And by stripping my ring and dissolving my match, he had conveniently cleared the board. I was the only unbetrothed daughter left in House Volkov.

I hadn't been replaced out of pity. I had been systematically positioned to take the strike. My broken engagement had turned me into the house's designated sacrifice before the royal messenger even set foot on our lands.

I stepped slowly down the carpeted stairs, my dark skirts rustling against the steps, my posture rigid.

"It's me," I said softly, my voice cutting through the frightened murmurs of the foyer.

My father tightened his jaw, stepping toward the base of the staircase. "Inara—"

"Do not insult us both by pretending there is a discussion to be had, Father," I said, stopping three steps from the bottom. "You knew the moment he spoke the decree."

"The legal reality stands," my father said, his voice hardening into the cold, pragmatic tone he used when closing a trade deal. "Elizaveta is promised to Lord Maksim Petrov. The match was registered in the city ledger yesterday afternoon. She is legally bound to House Petrov. To break that betrothal now would trigger a blood feud and ruin our family's standing."

A bitter, quiet smile touched my lips. "She is betrothed because she slept with my fiancé. You rushed that contract through yesterday to protect her from scandal, and in doing so, you handed me to the Lykan court on a silver platter."

"Inara, mind your tongue!" Sofia hissed from the upper landing, shielding Elizaveta. "How dare you—"

"Silence, Sofia," my father commanded without looking at her. He kept his eyes on me, his broad shoulders stiff. "It is a matter of survival for House Volkov. The Alpha demands an unbetrothed daughter of noble blood. You are my eldest. You are strong, Inara. You have always been resilient. Elizaveta would not survive a week in the northern mountains."

"She is fragile because you chose to protect her," I said coldly. "And I am resilient because you left me with no other choice."

The Lykan messenger stood silently by the doorway, his glowing eyes watching me with a quiet, unreadable interest, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

My father flushed dark red with frustration. "You leave for Vargovia in five days, Inara. You will do your duty to this house."

I looked down at the man who had raised me, the man who had traded my past to save my sister's reputation, and was now trading my future to save his estate.

I stepped down to the final stair, bringing my face level with his.

"I will ask you one thing, Father," I whispered, my voice dropping.

My father clenched his fists at his sides. "Ask it, then."

"If Maksim had never betrayed me..." I paused, staring directly into his soul. "...if I were still his betrothed today, and Elizaveta were the one standing here without a ring... would you still have sent me?"

My father opened his mouth. A quick, practiced lie clearly rose to his tongue. But as he looked into my eyes that inherited his own color, eyes that had watched him favor another child for ten agonizing years the lie dissolved.

He couldn't say it.

His lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Slowly, agonizingly, his gaze shifted downward, slipping away from mine to land on the cold stone floor between us. He could not look me in the eye.

The heavy, suffocating silence that followed was the absolute, final answer I needed.