C3

Arwen Frostfang

"It was my mistake back then," I whispered, holding my ground despite the icy wind tearing at my thin clothes. "My wolf paid for it. The pack bond was severed, and I served my time in the blood prison. Can you not just let me go and forget you saw me tonight, Prince Thalion?"

Thalion Dravenmoor raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a ruthless smirk as he lazily rolled a heavy silver coin across his knuckles.

"Let you go?" he asked, his dark voice carrying the deadly weight of a high Alpha. "You think two years in the Obsidian Blood Prison writes off your debt? Lady Eowyn’s inner wolf was mutilated. She will never run under the full moon again. You think living as a wolf-less weakling is enough to balance the scales?"

My shattered wolf whimpered silently inside my chest. The phantom pain of his strike from two years ago burned through my ribs, making my breath catch.

He only cared about Eowyn's lost wolf. He didn't care that his own iron club had fractured my core, leaving me unable to shift, unable to heal, and permanently broken. My debt had been paid in full the night he destroyed my soul, but I didn't dare say it aloud.

"What more do you want from me, Prince Thalion?" I forced out, my voice trembling. "I have no pack rank left."

Thalion didn't answer. He adjusted the black leather wrapped tightly around his massive forearms and flicked his wrist.

His Beta, Lee, stepped forward out of the shadow of the heavy carriage.

"My Prince?" Lee asked.

Thalion glared down at my small, four-foot-eight frame, his slit-pupil golden eyes scanning my heavy curves with absolute coldness.

"The blood dungeon keepers dealt with her legal debt," Thalion sneered. "Now she pays mine. Take her to the Crimson Noble Den. Strip off those rags and dress her for the floor."

My heart slammed against my ribs, blood draining from my face. The Crimson Noble Den was the most infamous pleasure house in Eredhollow, a sanctuary where high-ranking Alpha warlords spent their wealth on low-rank pack slaves.

He wanted to tear away every shred of pride I had left. He wanted to parade the former daughter of the Frostfang Moon Pack as a common servant.

"You really won't give me any path to survive, Thalion?" I asked, my teeth gritting so hard my jaw hurt.

Thalion stepped into my space, his massive five-foot-two frame towering over me, his dark scent of black cedar and terrifying mate-bond heat washing over my senses. He leaned down, his warm breath hitting the scar on my cheek.

"Beggars don't negotiate with their Alphas, Arwen," he growled low. "You belong to House Dravenmoor now."

He turned on his heel and stepped into his dark carriage without looking back.

Lee hesitated for a second before grabbing my arm with a firm grip, dragging my heavy, exhausted body out of the snow.

"How is Lady Eowyn?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the howling wind.

Lee looked at me with cold pity. "A female wolf stripped of her shift is dead inside. What do you think?"

I closed my eyes, a bitter taste in my mouth. Thalion would never stop hunting me as long as Eowyn remained a cripple.

Two weeks passed inside the Crimson Noble Den. Thalion never showed his face again, but his presence hung over the territory like a dark shadow.

"Welcome to the Crimson Noble Den," I said, bowing low at the entrance of the main hall.

My back throbbed from standing for twelve hours straight. My damaged wolf couldn't handle the strain, making every breath feel like hot iron in my lungs.

Another wolf-less servant, Julia, leaned against the pillar beside me, looking at me with genuine concern.

"The house manager is torturing you, Arwen," Julia whispered. "She gives everyone else a break, but she forces you to clean the blood-pits and stand the door all night. Why don't you just run?"

"I can't leave," I replied softly, keeping my eyes fixed on the stone floor.

"Why not? You're educated. You could hide in the outer territories."

"Prince Thalion owns this den," I said, forcing my raw voice to stay steady. "If I run, he will use the Dravenmoor Crimson Dominion to wipe out what is left of my mother's bloodline in the Frostfang pack. I have to stay."

Julia sighed and looked away. She didn't understand, and I didn't expect her to. I had to endure this humiliation to keep my mother alive.

Suddenly, two heavy iron doors swung open at the front of the plaza. A group of wealthy nobles from the surrounding territories strode in, laughing loudly, their silver jewelry clinking against their armor.

I immediately lowered my head, placing a hand over my chest in the standard sign of submission. "Good evening, honored guests. Welcome to—"

"Arwen?" a sharp female voice cut through my speech.

I froze. I raised my head slowly and met the piercing gaze of Lady Cathleen, a high-ranking noble female from the Dravenmoor court.

A cruel, knowing smile spread across her face as she looked at my scarred cheek, my short stature, and the plain servant tunic covering my plus-size body.

"It really is you!" Cathleen gasped exaggeratedly, looking back at her group of friends. "The disgraceful daughter of Alpha Beren! When did the dungeon keepers open your cage? You should have sent word, darling. The bloodline could have celebrated your release!"

Julia gasped quietly beside me, her eyes widening in shock.

I kept my jaw tight, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, refusing to give her the reaction she wanted.

"Look at you," Cathleen sneered, stepping closer and poking her sharp silver-adorned finger into my shoulder. "A disgraced criminal who tried to murder Lady Eowyn is greeting guests at the door? Is House Dravenmoor so desperate for staff that they hire traitorous scum?"

"Is there a problem here, Cathleen?" a deep, familiar voice rumbled from behind the main corridor.

My breath caught in my throat. I turned my head slightly and saw a tall, broad-shouldered wolf walking toward us.

It was Danis Silverclaw.

Danis was Eowyn’s brother—and the only person who had ever visited my cell in the Obsidian Blood Prison, though he had only come to glare at me through the iron bars with pure hatred.

"Danis!" Cathleen squealed, gesturing wildly at me. "Look who is standing here acting like a innocent servant!"

Danis stopped in front of me. His golden eyes locked onto my short frame, scanning the faded scar near my brow and the obvious exhaustion in my posture.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the hall. Danis frowned, his chest heaving as his jaw tightened.

"When were you freed from the dungeon, Arwen?" Danis asked, his voice unexpectedly quiet.

"Half a month ago, My Lord," I answered, keeping my tone empty of all emotion.

Danis stared at me, his fists clenching at his sides as if he wanted to strike me, but then his eyes drifted down to the brutal scars visible beneath my sleeves. He swallowed hard and looked away toward the far wall.

"I see," Danis muttered, his voice strained. "You paid the legal price set by the council. Try to live quietly."

Cathleen’s face twisted in outrage. "Danis! She crippled your sister! How can you stand there and speak to her like—"

"Quiet, Cathleen," Danis growled, his Alpha command echoing off the stone walls, instantly shutting her mouth.

He took a step closer to me, reaching into his heavy cloak and pulling out an official scroll stamped with the royal seal of House Dravenmoor.

"Prince Thalion ordered this to be posted in the main hall tonight," Danis said, his eyes fixed on mine as he handed the parchment directly to the house manager.

I glanced at the dark red wax seal.

"Read it aloud to the staff," Danis commanded the manager.

The manager cleared her throat, her eyes widening as she read the blood-ink declaration: "By order of Prince Thalion Dravenmoor, the mate-mating trial for Lady Eowyn Silverclaw will commence at the upcoming Full Moon. All former pack debts are cleared, and Arwen Frostfang is hereby appointed as the personal blood-bed maiden to serve the royal chamber."

My stomach dropped into a cold abyss. Blood-bed maidens were used to absorb the excess dark fever during an Alpha's knotting ceremony. He wasn't just keeping me as a servant—he was forcing me to watch him mark Eowyn while using my broken body to take his violent heat.