Chapter 16: Fate On Threads

Without another word, Maren turned and walked out of the room, the heavy wooden door clicking shut behind her.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh, the sound loud in the sudden emptiness of the chamber.

She kept saying things like that. Ever since the day I woke up in this fortress three weeks ago, Maren had been feeding me these cryptic, mystical assurances about my hidden strength.      

How funny, I thought bitterly, walking back over to the mirror.

She tells me I am strong, yet I am still bound in medical gauze. A normal werewolf would have healed from a Cesarean cut in a matter of hours. A Beta would have healed in three days. But me? It had been three weeks, and my stitches were still tender, the skin knitting together at a painfully slow, agonizingly human rate. If I was so powerful, why was my body so pathetic? Why couldn't I heal?

I looked down at the bundle in my arms.

Mael was fast asleep, utterly unbothered by the political storm raging outside our door. His tiny chest rose and fell in a perfect, even rhythm. He had Kaelen's dark hair, but the slope of his nose and the shape of his closed eyes were all me.

A fierce, protective heat suddenly flared in my chest, burning away the cold grip of my imposter syndrome.

He was my reason for living. In a world of alphas who sold their mates and kings who snapped necks on a whim, this fragile, three-week-old boy was the only real, untainted bond I had left. When my own wolf had refused to answer me, when my husband threw me away, my little pup had stayed. He fought his way into this world just to be with me.

I leaned down, pressing my lips gently against his soft, warm forehead.

"I don't care what they smell," I whispered to him, my voice trembling but hardening with a sudden, vicious resolve. "I don't care if Maren is crazy, or if the King is blind. I promise you, Mael. You will survive this. You are going to grow up, and you are going to become the greatest wolf on this continent. You will make a change in this brutal world."

A tear slipped free, hot and fast, landing on his blanket.

"And one day," I breathed, the vow sinking deep into my bones, "you will avenge us. You will make Kaelen regret the day he ever looked away from you."

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The heavy, booming sound against the ironwood door made me jump.

"My Lady." It was the muffled, deep voice of a Vanguard soldier from the corridor. "The High Council is seated. The King has requested your presence in the Assembly Hall."

My stomach plummeted. The sudden burst of maternal bravery fractured, leaving behind the cold, hard reality of what was waiting for me.

"I'm coming," I called back.

I pulled Mael closer to my chest, securing the thick wool cloak around him so not a single inch of his skin was exposed to the drafty air. I took one last look in the mirror. I squared my shoulders, lifting my chin the exact way I had seen Selena do it a thousand times. If I was going to be exposed as a fraud, I was not going to give them the satisfaction of watching me cower.

I opened the door.

Six massive Lycan warriors stood at attention in the hallway, clad in ceremonial obsidian armor. They didn't speak. The captain simply extended his arm, gesturing for me to follow.

The walk through the Valrok Empire felt like a march to the gallows.

We descended deep into the mountain, leaving the residential wings behind. The stone corridors grew wider, the ceilings arching impossibly high, lit by massive iron braziers that roared with smokeless fire.

This was the true heart of the Lycan world. A place I had only ever heard of in whispered myths when I was a child. The High Council wasn't just a pack meeting; it was the governing body of our entire species. When border disputes turned into bloodbaths, when rogues threatened to expose our existence to the human world, the Alphas came here. They surrendered their weapons at the gates and knelt before the Lycan King to beg for his judgment.

And right now, the most powerful, ruthless predators on the planet had dropped their wars to gather in one room.

And I was on the agenda.

We turned a final corner, and the corridor opened up into a cavernous antechamber. At the far end stood a set of doors so massive they looked like they had been built for giants. Carved from solid black iron and depicting a sprawling battle between ancient wolves, the doors were closed.

But even through the solid metal, I could hear them.

The low, rumbling cacophony of hundreds of Alpha voices. The sheer concentration of dominant auras bleeding through the iron was suffocating. My wolf whined, her tail tucking tight between her legs.

The Vanguard captain stepped forward and gripped the heavy iron ring on the door. He looked back at me, his face impassive.

"Hold him tight," I whispered to my wolf, wrapping my arms protectively around Mael.

The captain hauled the heavy doors open.

A blinding wall of firelight and the overpowering scent of hundreds of hostile, dominant wolves slammed into me. The low rumble of conversation instantly ceased.

Silence, absolute and terrifying, fell over the Great Assembly Hall as hundreds of glowing eyes turned to look at the weak, wolfless imposter standing in their doorway.