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Chapter 85: Ten Days
publish date:
2026-09-26 19:03:19
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Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King Chapter 87: Kronvik Is The First
I slid my hands up to the sides of his neck and held him there. "Then we stop pretending clean is available," I said. "We do it anyway." His mouth found mine. There was no desperation in it this time. No post-battle crash. It was slower, deeper, and more dangerous for that — the kind of kiss that belonged to people who had survived enough to understand what they were risking by wanting each other in the middle of a keep that still might fall. I answered it with the same deliberateness. When his hands moved under my shirt, mapping scale and scar and the places that still ached, the bond carried every point of contact in imperfect echoes that made the heat build differently than it used to. We undressed each other without urgency and without distance. When he lifted me onto the bed, I pulled him down with me and the rest of the world narrowed to breath and skin and the uneven rhythm of a connection that still hurt when it carried too much and still refused to let go. He entered
Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King Chapter 86: You Took The Wall
The ten-day clock started the moment Josefine Solberg's horse cleared the tree line. It did not announce itself with horns or threats. It announced itself in the quiet arithmetic that followed her out: how many sacks remained in the lower stores, how many mouths the keep currently fed, how long the wounded would need stronger rations if infection took hold, how much could be stretched before the breeding stock became food instead of future. Matthías ran the numbers with the same blunt precision he used for casualty counts. The answer was not comfortable. Gunnar listened to the full report in the war room without interrupting. When it was finished, he gave only three orders. Reduce non-essential consumption. Begin quiet inventory of every edible reserve including the ceremonial stores. And no public discussion of Kronvik's deadline until he decided how the keep would answer it. Then he looked at me and said, "Walk." Not a request. Not a dismissal of the others. A private command
Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King Chapter 85: Ten Days
Gunnar was already there. Matthías took the door. I remained standing rather than taking a seat, because this conversation was not going to be one in which I deferred. Josefine did not waste time on flattery. "Kronvik can feed you through the winter if the routes reopen," she said. "We can also starve you by doing nothing. Jakob's people have already approached our border riders with offers — protection in exchange for exclusive grain priority. My Jarl does not trust Jakob. He also does not trust a keep that has gone dark under siege and started leaking rumors about Old Blood and broken doors. I was sent to look you in the eye and decide whether Kronvik's next decision favors Ironfang or favors distance." Gunnar's voice was flat. "And what does your Jarl require in exchange for favoring us?" "Stability," Josefine said. "And proof that the woman standing beside you is not about to drag the southern routes into a war of bloodlines they never asked for." Her gaze shifted fully to me.
Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King Chapter 84: Trade And Warning
The sealed access to the third water course stayed under guard. Gunnar gave the orders once, clean and final: continuous watch, no entry without him, immediate report if the water rose or the stone changed. Then he walked away from it. I watched him do it. The fragment still pulsed under the eastern foundations. The marked channels still existed. Line and Adam still sat in separate rooms with whatever the residual piece had put into their heads. None of that disappeared. But the keep could not live on investigation alone. By midday the practical costs of the siege had become impossible to ignore. The outer courtyard remained occupied. The eastern wall needed repair where we had collapsed the dig. Food stores had been calculated for a standing force, not for an extended occupation and a hall full of wounded. Medical herbs were running low. Two supply caches near the southern approaches had been cut off since Jakob's people took the outer ground. Warriors who had fought through th
Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King Chapter 83: Find Merja. Find Matthías
Two courses checked. One confirmed as marked. The keep’s bones were telling a story no one currently living had been taught to read. --- Adam asked for me specifically in the early afternoon. Not Gunnar. Me. I went with Sunna as witness and Merja as precaution. Adam sat on the edge of his cot in the far-wing room, hands clasped hard enough to bleach the knuckles. He looked like he had not slept. When he lifted his head, his eyes were clear of green, but there was a new tightness around them. “I didn’t speak it,” he said immediately. “I swear. I didn’t say the word. But I dreamed it. The same one. Veyth. And there was a place. Stone walls. Water. Marks like the ones you found under the eastern wall. I don’t know how I know what they look like. I wasn’t there when you brought the report up.” Merja glanced at me. I kept my face steady. “Describe the place,” I said. Adam tried. The details slipped when he reached for them — a low ceiling, the sound of water moving agains
Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King Chapter 82: Mark The Access
First light came thin and unwilling, the kind of gray that made the bloodstains on the eastern stones look older than they were. We did not wait for it to strengthen. Gunnar had the old records pulled from the keep’s deeper archives before the morning watch fully changed — brittle maps, water-stained maintenance tallies, and a set of foundation sketches that predated most of the current outer walls. Half of them contradicted the other half. The keep had been expanded, repaired, and partially rebuilt so many times that the bones beneath the floors no longer matched any single clean drawing. Matthías spread the most coherent sheets across the war table while Nina weighted the corners with knife hilts. Sunna stood at Gunnar’s shoulder, arms folded, eyes moving over the faded ink with the same attention she gave to kill zones. I stayed close enough to see the lines, the connection between Gunnar and me carrying the low, delayed grind of his focus as he traced possible routes wit
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