CHAPTER FIVE

LYRA'S POV 

I clench my fist tight as I stride ahead of Viktor, ignoring the blatant stares I get from Blackthorne wolves.

What did Misthollow have to offer as allies? How could they reduce everything Father built to nothing while actively occupying our land?

The Blackthorne guards at the steps of the dungeons stop their goofing off when they see us approach. They send each other glances as we pass by, probably asking themselves what was wrong with the crazy captive.

"What are they going to do to me?" I ask Viktor without turning, knowing he's following closely behind.

"My people are imprisoned in the lower cells, and I'm ripped away from them, isolated from friends and comfort. So you tell me. What would you have me do?"

When he continues following without answering, I turn sharply at him, and for the first time I see a reaction on his otherwise stony face. We stare at each other for a few heated moments before he sighs and scrubs his face with his hand.

"You shouldn't be asking me what to do, as a leader," he says.

He raises his hand when I go to speak.

"One. I'm the enemy, and I'd probably be the one to give you the killing blow. Two. I do not care about what happens to you or Misthollow. We are not friends, and I'm not concerned."

I sigh as a sense of bone-deep tiredness fills me before I turn and march back to my cell. I watch Viktor throwing cautious glances at me as he unlocks my cell, probably worried I would attack him.

I knew I wouldn't escape or survive, and my people would be the ones to pay for it.

I immediately slump onto the cot as I enter and give him my back. It isn't until my heart has stopped racing and my breath returns to normal that I register the faint smell of Ronan's overpowering scent.

Mist, cedar, and something dangerous.

I still remember the cold look in his eyes I had caught when he asked for me to be sent back to my cell. He looked like he couldn't care to actually have this discussion. And he was probably dragging out my death for his own feral enjoyment, as I've heard in stories.

“Or it might be the bond. His wolf." Rue interjects.

“You know his wolf?" I ask, puzzled.

“The beast knows no rest. He has been niggling and pushing at the bond. Hoping…for a reaction.” 

"I can assure you that he is just as bad as his human. If not worst.” I bite out.

An unsettling feeling of apprehension flutters through the bond, followed by that familiar intrusive curiosity.

Ronan.

I close my eyes and try to push as much hate through as I can, and I know it reaches him because immediately his end of the bond goes completely quiet.

I almost huff at it when I hear two sets of footsteps coming my way. One is assured and strong, with a crunching sound I've always heard coming from Viktor's boots, but I can tell it isn't him. The other sounds hurried, like someone being dragged or forced to move forward.

After a few moments of waiting, two tall figures stand in front of my cell. I immediately recognize the muscled one as a Blackthorne warrior from his gear, but it takes me a while to register the lanky, withdrawn-looking man as Elder Rowe.

"The Alpha granted you audience with your people," the warrior grunts out.

I immediately lunge and grab at Elder Rowe's hands through the gaps in the cell door's bars, tears springing to my eyes at the sight of him.

"Child," he says softly while rubbing my hands, his eyes shining with unshed tears of his own, "we thought the worst may have happened to you."

I shake my head at him as I try to take him in. He looks like he's aged two decades since the last time I saw him. His eyes are hollowed out and rimmed with dark circles. His lips look chapped, and his hands tremble ever so slightly.

He looks nothing like the most fearsome elder in my father's council.

"What have they done to you guys?" I choke out.

"Do not cry, Alpha," he whispers. "And we have been faring well. You behave like it's been a decade," he jokes, giving me a tight smile.

I nod again as I wipe furiously at my tears. Curiosity flares at the bond, and I feel repulsion fill me at Ronan's constant interjection into my life.

"Something has happened, and I need your advice," I say urgently as the curiosity grows.

Turning to the guard, I glare at him. "Give us space."

He cocks his head at me like I'm stupid. "We are not allowed to do that," he says in a thick voice.

"Give us the damn space!" I scream at him. "Your Alpha is allowed to invade my head with constant curiosity, but you won't give me space to speak to my people?"

"You just-"

I bang my head against the cell door, my need to push away Ronan's invasions overpowering the pain rattling my skull. "Give us the damn space. I share consciousness with your Alpha, for fuck's sake," I scream, ignoring the blood dribbling down my face now.

"Fenrir!" He curses before turning and running out of the dungeon.

"By the Goddess, Lyra. You are no longer a child," Elder Rowe chides.

"Tell me something I don't know," I grin at him.

He shakes his head at me as he tries to dab up the blood with his sleeve, but instead releases a frustrated growl when he can't stop the bleeding.

"I'm mated to Ronan Blackthorne," I rush out.

I watch as Elder Rowe's face goes from shock to horror to sadness.

"It's a curse, I know. But now, with this bond shackling me further, I don't want to do it," I sniff. "I want to save our people without anyone losing their lives again, and I'm afraid this bond might be the only way."

He shakes his head immediately, his brown hair matted with sweat and grime flopping left and right.

"You do not have to subject yourself to that sort of torture, child," he says. "Mate bonds are sacred and precious, but so is staying true to one's self. Don't do it. We will fall and rise with you," he assures.

"What of Keyon and Silverclaw, then? If not today, then in a few weeks' time, they will fight—"

My hand immediately shoots up to my head when the bond suddenly flashes with worry and protectiveness.

I slap my hand against my skull like I could flush out Ronan and his bond. Elder Rowe stops me.

"Let him. When he sees you bear only anger and sorrow, he will leave you alone."

I nod before forcing myself to relax against the intrusion.

"As I was saying, Silverclaw will fight Blackthorne. If not for anything, then for honor. I can't leave that kind of mess lying around in my name."

"That is true, but Silverclaw didn't come to our aid that night," Elder Rowe grits out, his voice finally losing its numb tone.

"I don't think the signal was released that night. Or that the emissary even reached Silverclaw." I squeeze his hand when he makes an unsure sound. "I know Keyon, Elder. He would never leave Misthollow hanging."

Elder Rowe deliberates for a few seconds before nodding at me. "You are right, Alpha. But these things are easier said than done." He looks worried for a moment. "Your father's killer…there will be backlash for this."

"I know, but I know what Father would have wanted more. For all of us to survive."

"True," he agrees.

"I'll accept Ronan as mate and rebuild Misthollow."

I couldn't explain it, but it feels like a big question mark zapped itself along the bond. He must have felt my resolve.

"Good. He will need a constant reminder of who you are," Rue yips.

Elder Rowe backs up a fewsteps before giving me a deep bow.

"May you live long, Alpha.”