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Chapter 10: Blood Debt

Auteur: TheRunesmith
last update Date de publication: 2026-07-14 20:55:19

Gunnar looked down at me. For a second his face wasn't the cold Lycan King. It was something rawer. "You will fight. But not like this. Not half-dead on your feet." His thumb brushed my jaw, rough and warm. "Go with Sunna. Clean up and eat something. I'll handle the walls."

I wanted to argue. The bond and the fire both screamed at me to stay glued to his side. But my arm was throbbing worse and my head felt like it was splitting open. I let Sunna pull me up and steer me toward a side door.

We w
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  • Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King    Chapter 107: We Hit Them!

    We left the stones while the outer dark still favored people who already knew which shadows were hollow. Twenty riders. No banners. Hooves wrapped where the ground would carry sound too far. Sunna took the forward point with two scouts who had used the southern scrub before Asmark planted stakes in it. I rode in the second file because leading from the front with strapped ribs and a healing arm was a good way to become the first body Magnus counted. Emil had been ordered to stay. He had argued until Matthías put a hand on his shoulder and ended it. The rest were chosen for quiet and return, not glory. Ironfang’s occupied approaches fell behind us in pieces. Jakob’s nearer watchfires were a dull constellation against the keep’s outer dark. We bent wide of them, accepted the longer route, and put the trees between our noise and his curiosity. No one spoke unless the line required it. When a horse blew too loud, its rider corrected with a hand and a curse held behind teeth. By t

  • Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King    Chapter 106: Plain Is Useful

    Gunnar caught my elbow in the narrow passage between the inner doors and the small hall. Not hard. Firm enough to stop me. “You disagreed with the three-day full assault,” he said. “You pushed the limited cut. You also accepted the part where you lead it.” “Yes.” “I need to know if that acceptance is strategy or the same refusal you threw at Magnus through a breaking door.” I met his eyes in the dim corridor. The keep moved around us in pieces of sound, boots, low voices, the continuous fact of an occupation that had not lifted to make our southern problem simpler. “Both,” I said. “If I stay behind the wall while Ironfang makes a careful southern mark, Kronvik and Asmark both learn that my presence at the fork was an accident of timing. If I go and the mark lands, the south has to recalculate the woman who already walked out of one of their victories. I am not chasing a death. I am refusing to become a story that ends at the wall.” Gunnar’s hand stayed on my arm a moment longer.

  • Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King    Chapter 105: My Ribs Are All Strapped

    Matthías shifted his weight off the bad leg. “Numbers.” “Kronvik can put forty riders into the northern approach by tomorrow night,” the messenger said. “Not a host. Enough to pinch a supply tail and force Magnus to show how many men he actually planted on that fork. Ironfang’s contribution decides whether the pinch closes.” Forty. Not enough to retake a fortified checkpoint. Enough, with the right Ironfang weight, to make holding the fork start bleeding. Gunnar did not look at the outer occupation, but I felt the awareness of it in the way he held his shoulders. Every body sent south was a body not on these stones. Every hour of southern noise was an hour Jakob could interpret as opportunity. “Elva goes with the strike group,” Gunnar said. It was not a question to the messenger. It was a decision dropped into the middle of the terms. I turned my head. “Explain.” “You are already the name Magnus associates with the refusal and the escape. Kronvik has already accepted you as a v

  • Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King    Chapter 104: Those Are The Terms

    The Kronvik messenger did not wait for a full reception line. He came up under the pale cloth with two outriders and stopped at the distance Ironfang’s bows decided was polite. Dust still clung to his coat. His horse’s chest worked hard enough to show the ride had not been leisurely. When Gunnar stepped into view on the lower outer marker with Matthías at his shoulder and me at his right, the messenger dismounted, kept his hands clear, and spoke before anyone offered him water. “Kronvik recognizes the report of the fork’s fall,” he said. “Josefine Solberg’s survival is noted. Asmark’s seizure is noted. My Jarl’s position is this: Ironfang will commit visible force to contest Asmark’s hold on the southern fork within three days, in joint action with Kronvik riders already staged north of the river, or Kronvik will treat the southern routes as lost ground and reopen grain and passage talks with parties who can hold a road. That includes parties Ironfang will not like.” No greeting.

  • Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King    Chapter 103: I Wasn't Reckless

    Limited southern pressure. Sealed positions to Kronvik. Josefine held under care and watch. And no public claim that Ironfang could clear the outer occupation and the southern routes in the same breath. The keep would not pretend it was uninjured. Sunna exhaled through her nose. “I’ll take the first scouting line at dusk. Small. Quiet. If Magnus is already stretching to hold the fork, we find the thin place.” “You take it with orders to return,” Gunnar said. “No heroics. No chasing banners into ground he chose.” Sunna’s mouth twitched. “I liked her better when she was the only one allowed to be reckless.” “I wasn’t reckless,” I said. “I was present.” That earned the first rough sound close to a laugh any of us had managed since the yard. It didn’t last. A runner hit the door hard enough to make Matthías turn with a hand already near his blade. The boy’s face was wind-burned and tight. “Southern watch,” he said. “Smoke on the far tree line past the old signal stones. Not a wild

  • Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King    Chapter 102: Options

    Dawn came gray and thin, the kind that made the blood on yesterday’s bandages look older than it was. I woke to the pull of strapped ribs and the deeper ache in my arm where Merja’s work had held through the night. Gunnar was already on his feet at the narrow window, shirt half-buttoned, watching the outer stones the way a man watches a door he cannot yet kick in. He heard me shift and turned. “You should still be down,” he said. “And miss the room where we decide what the south costs us next? No.” He didn’t argue. That alone told me how far the night had pushed him. He crossed to the bed, checked the wrap on my arm with fingers that were careful and too controlled, then helped me sit without making a performance of it. The contact was brief. It still carried the weight of the distance we had both survived. “Matthías has Josefine in the small hall,” he said. “Sunna too. We talk before the keep starts inventing its own version of yesterday.” I stood. The ribs protested. I breath

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