Chapter 4: The Rules of the House

She tested the door first.

It opened without resistance, just as it had the day before. No lock. No guard stationed directly outside. Nothing that announced itself as confinement.

Nyra stepped into the corridor and paused.

Two exits. A window at the far end large enough to fit through. Wolves moving between rooms and across the grounds without paying her much attention.

She headed outside.

The courtyard had already come alive. Someone was arguing near the stables about a missing saddle. A pair of younger wolves hurried past with an armful of firewood, one carrying considerably more than the other.

“That's not fair,” the smaller one complained.

“You said you could handle it.”

“I said I could carry it. I didn't say I could carry all of it.”

The other wolf laughed and took half the load from him.

Nyra kept walking.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected to find when she began wandering the territory. Something more rigid, perhaps. Blackthorn had a reputation that suggested silence, discipline and the sort of order maintained by people who knew exactly what happened when they stepped out of line.

Instead, the training yard was noisy.

Two wolves were sparring in the center while several others crowded around them, calling out advice that neither fighter seemed particularly interested in taking.

“Your left.”

“I know.”

“You clearly don't.”

A punch sent the first wolf stumbling backward.

The others erupted into laughter.

He grinned, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and raised his fists again.

“Again.”

Nyra stopped at the fence.

No one told the loser to do better. No one mocked him for being knocked down. His friends had laughed, but he had laughed too.

She moved on.

Near the stables, a child darted between the horses and nearly collided with a woman carrying a basket.

“Slow down.”

The child considered this, panting hard.

Then ran away.

The woman called after him, but there was laughter in her voice.

Nyra glanced toward the stable doors.

An older wolf was helping a younger one secure a restless horse. The animal tossed its head and stamped impatiently while the boy struggled with the strap.

“Don't fight him,” the older wolf said. “Let him settle.”

“He won't.”

“He will.”

The older wolf placed a hand against the horse's neck and waited.

Eventually, the animal stilled and the boy looked impressed.

Nyra found herself lingering.

There was no urgency here.

That was what kept catching her off guard.

People stopped to talk when they had nothing that needed saying. They interrupted one another's work to settle arguments that seemed too trivial to matter. Someone shouted from an upper window and received three different answers from the courtyard below.

A woman carrying a basket of vegetables paused to complain to a passing hunter about her brother.

“He promised he'd repair the roof.”

“He'll do it.”

“He said that last winter.”

The hunter laughed. “Then complain to him, not me.”

“I already did.”

“And?”

“He told me you were better at fixing things.”

The hunter groaned.

Two wolves nearby burst out laughing.

Nyra walked on before they noticed she was listening. She found the low wall near the edge of the grounds unattended.

Her hand settled against the cold stone.

The forest waited on the other side.

She could climb over, disappear between the trees and be beyond Blackthorn's reach before anyone had time to organize a search.

She didn't.

Nyra stood there for another moment before taking her hand away.

That should have bothered her more than it did.

She returned to the courtyard.

By midday, she'd stopped trying to assign a purpose to every place her feet carried her.

She ended up near the kitchens because the smell of roasting meat had drifted across the grounds, and from there she watched several wolves argue over who had stolen the first piece from the spit.

“It was one piece.”

“It was three.”

“It was two.”

“You're both lying.”

A hand reached between them and stole another.

They all shouted at once.

Nyra laughed before she could stop herself.

One of the wolves looked over and she immediately composed her face.

He smiled anyway and turned back to the argument.

No one seemed surprised to see her there. That, more than anything, made her feel like an outsider.

They had their own lives, their own jokes and their own routines, and somehow she had been allowed to drift into the edges of them without anyone demanding an explanation.

Later, she sat near the training yard while the younger wolves practiced shifting.

One emerged from the attempt with his shirt torn and his hair sticking up in every direction.

His friend took one look at him and laughed so hard he nearly fell over.

“Don't.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“I'm going to kill you.”

“You'll have to catch me first.”

The boy took off after him.

Nyra shook her head.

She had spent most of her life around people who were careful with one another because carelessness had consequences.

Here, people seemed careless because they trusted there would be someone there to catch them.

The thought stayed with her.

As afternoon faded, the territory settled into its evening rhythm. Hunters returned from the forest. Wolves drifted toward the dining hall in groups. Children were called inside, ignored the first two times and finally dragged indoors after the third.

Her gaze moved across the courtyard.

A hunter handed his coat to a friend. Two children raced past with a wooden sword between them. Someone called Lucian's name from across the grounds, not cautiously or formally, but with the comfortable familiarity of someone who expected an answer.

And an answer came.

Lucian appeared briefly at the far end of the courtyard, speaking to one of the guards before continuing toward the keep.

The wolves around him made space without being ordered to.

Then the space closed again after he passed.

Nyra watched him disappear through the doors.

The man she had been sent to kill had built something she couldn't easily reduce to a target, a reputation or a list of weaknesses.

There were people here who trusted him.

People who laughed around him.

People who had built ordinary lives beneath his rule and seemed genuinely content to remain there.

Nyra looked across the courtyard one last time.

All these people, living together so harmoniously.

And here she was, on a mission to kill their Alpha.