CHAPTER 80

JARRETT'S POV

The ice didn’t forgive.

It held the weight of ten thousand wolves and still sang under it. A low groan that ran up through my boots and into my teeth, like the lake remembered every skate that had cut it and every drop of blood that had fed it.

We came down the ridge in a line.

Helena came first with just the faint ember glow under her jaw and the stick in her hand that wasn’t for playing anymore. It was a scepter now.

Me, two steps behind. My ribs throbbed with every breath. The bandages under my leathers were already stiff with dried blood.

Lucian, in silver chains, dragged between four rogues who used to kneel to him. His grin was still there with blood at the corner of his mouth. He looked at the crowd like he owned it. Like this was all part of his game.

The stands were carved into the ice itself. Tier after tier, rising up the ridge. Every pack. Frostfang in blue and white. Blackriver in black and red. Ashen Peak with their ash-stained banners. Even the rogues who’d been freed last night stood at the edges, shoulders hunched, not quite sure if they were allowed to be here.

Torches lined the rink. The flames didn’t flicker. The wind was too cold. Banners snapped overhead. And at center ice, there was a circle painted in red. Not paint. Old blood, refrozen. The place where treaties were made. Where blood was spilled to end wars.

Helena stopped at the edge of the circle. The entire pack was already on their knees.

She didn’t tell them to rise.

Her voice cut across the lake anyway. Crown authority, but not gold. Not yet. Just Helena, and that was somehow worse.

“Twenty-six years ago this ice was a treaty,” she said. Her words carried to the last row without her raising her voice. “One game. No magic. No killing. A way for two houses to meet without war.”

She turned. Look at me. Her eyes weren’t gold. They were just tired.

“Today it’s a court.”

The wind carried her words and threw them back at us.

“Lucian of the Bloodline,” she said, and the chains pulled him forward. He stumbled but caught himself. “You stand accused of treason. Of blood magic. Of enslaving our people. Of attempting to murder the Crown-Bearer.”

Lucian laughed. It echoed off the ice. “And who’s going to judge me, niece? You? The girl raised in a cage by the Council? Or him?” He jerked his chin at me. “The sacrifice who couldn’t even do his job right?”

Helena didn’t flinch.

“The packs will. The ice will and I will.”

She stepped into the circle. The ice didn’t crack. It never did for her.

“Bring the Council.”

Six elders shuffled out from the tunnel. Old wolves. Cloaks too heavy for the weather. My grandfather’s chair was empty. He’d died in the coup, or maybe he’d just finally stopped breathing when Lucian took over. The others wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Helena looked at them. “You wrote the plan. You raised him.” She pointed at me without looking. “Now you will hear it from him. On record. In front of everyone.”

All eyes turned to me.

My mouth was dry. My ribs ached. The silence from the cells was nothing compared to this. Ten thousand wolves. Waiting to see if I’d lie. Waiting to see if I’d break.

I stepped into the circle. The red ice was cold through my leathers. I could feel it in my bones.

“My name is Jarrett of House Varek,” I said. My voice cracked on the first word. I cleared it and tried again. “Twenty-six years ago, the Council was split. Half wanted to kill the heir to stop the prophecy. The other half wanted to control it.”

Murmurs. Low. Angry. A few growls.

“My grandfather was Head of the Council. He voted to protect her.” I looked up. Found Helena. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at them. Watching their faces. “Not out of mercy. Out of design.”

I told them everything.

How they copied the old texts in secret rooms. How they studied the Blood Crown like it was a weapon manual. How they learned the Crown needed two royal lines to stabilize, or it would burn the bearer out from the inside.

How they placed me in the youth league at six years old. How my father sat me down at twelve and told me my duty was to keep her alive until the Crown woke. To be close. To be trusted.

How every report I filed. Every practice I stayed late for. Every ‘accidental’ meeting at the archives was part of it.

The crowd didn’t make a sound. Just the wind. Just the ice groaning under all that weight.

“And the bond?” one elder asked, finally. Old. Scared. His voice shook. “Was the bond real? Or was it part of it?”

I looked at Helena. She still wasn’t looking at me.

“The bond wasn’t in the script,” I said. “Falling in love with her ruined the plan. I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to give her the Crown and walk away.” My throat closed. “Taking Lucian’s blade for her wasn’t duty. It was me. It was always me.”

Lucian clapped slowly. Chains rattling. “Beautiful speech, nephew. Really. Oscar-worthy.” He turned to the crowd. “Shame it’s too late. The Crown demands blood. It demands a sacrifice. You think she can just decide not to? You think love fixes prophecy?”

Helena turned to him. Slow. Deliberate.

“The Crown answers to me now,” she said. The gold flickered under her skin. Not a flare. A warning. “Not to fear. Not to prophecy. Not to you.”

She lifted her hand. The silver collar around Lucian’s throat glowed white-hot. He dropped to his knees with a snarl, smoke rising from the metal.

“Sentence,” she said, and the word rolled across the lake like thunder. It hit the stands and came back to us. “Life in the Obsidian Vault. No magic. No contact. No visitors. You will stand witness to what we build without you.”

The rogues moved. Dragged him off the ice. He was still laughing as they pulled him through the tunnel. “You’ll kill each other without me! The Crown will eat you alive! She’ll burn out in a month!”

His voice faded. The tunnel swallowed him.

Then silence again. Thicker than before.

Helena looked out over the packs. Ten thousand faces. Ten thousand wolves who didn’t know if they were supposed to bow or run.

“The Council is dissolved,” she said. “Effective now. A new council will be formed. One wolf from each pack. Elected, not inherited. No bloodlines. No secrets.”

Gasps. Some cheers from the younger packs. Mostly shock. You could see it on the elders’ faces. They’d spent their whole lives in that room.

She turned to me last. Everyone followed her gaze.

“And Jarrett of House Varek will stand trial for concealment. For lying by omission. For being part of the plan.” She paused. “But not today.”

My chest seized. Not today meant there would be a day.

She held out her hand. Not to the Crown. To me.

I took it. Her grip was warm. Steady.

“Together,” she said, quiet enough that only I heard. Her thumb brushed over my knuckles once. “We play on the same team. Or we don’t play at all.”

She raised our joined hands. The gold in her eyes flared once, bright enough to reflect off the ice and light up the underside of the banners.

And ten thousand wolves rose to their feet.

The sound of it was like the lake breaking in spring. Like chains falling off.

The trial was over, the game was just beginning.

Behind us, the red circle at center ice started to melt. Spring is coming early. Or maybe the Crown is finally letting go.

Helena dropped my hand and turned to the new business. “Frostfang. Blackriver. Ashen Peak. Send me your representative by sundown. We start the First Council tonight.”

As the packs began to move, as the torches were put out one by one, I stood there on the ice with the taste of truth in my mouth and her hand still warm on mine.

Lucian was in chains. The Council was gone and for the first time in 26 years, the only plan we had was the one we made ourselves.