Chapter 15: The Alpha At My Gate

POV: GUINE

Percival returned with proof that the sickness was spreading. Morgause returned with a different kind of poison.

The morning frost had barely turned to dew on the courtyard cobblestones when the heavy clatter of armored hooves echoed through the outer archway. I stood on the grand stone terrace of Eclipse Hollow, my thick fur-lined mantle pulled tight against the mountain wind, watching Alpha Percival Wynthrone ride through my gates.

He rode alone this time, leaving his garrison warriors stationed at the northern ridge. Disengaging from his heavy black stallion with fluid grace, he strolled up the marble steps, holding a thick leather folder bound with red wire.

"Lady Guine," Percival acknowledged, bowing his head slightly. The unyielding silence of his mind remained an impenetrable wall, but his amber eyes burned with a dark, intense gravity.

"Alpha Percival," I replied, gesturing toward the sheltered stone alcove. "I assume Physician Harrow's isolation protocols were not enough to stem the tide."

"The contagion has crossed into the southern valley," Percival said, opening the leather folder to reveal three separate parchment maps marked with red ink. "Three cases were reported in the border township last night. Full silver ocular clouding, violent delirium, and physical strength that shatters iron bonds. But that is only half of the storm brewing on your horizon."

He pulled out a second document, a formal parchment bearing the golden wax crest of Lord Roderick Thornfield.

"Thornfield is using the panic," Percival explained, his low voice tight and cold. "He has already petitioned the High Pack Council for an emergency land seizure. He claims Eclipse Hollow is the origin point of the silver plague and that a 'packless, inexperienced woman' cannot maintain proper quarantine security. He intends to march his private militia onto your land under the guise of public safety."

A bitter, razor-sharp smile touched my lips. Lord Roderick Thornfield was moving faster than he had in my first life, seizing upon the early tremors of the Moonfall to snatch my ancestral land before I could fortify it.

"He is welcome to try," I said, my voice dropping into a register of icy, absolute resolve. "The stone walls of Eclipse Hollow are three feet thick, my granaries are stocked for winter, and my guards have orders to shoot any unauthorized intruder who steps across the Ravenshade boundary, lord or peasant."

Percival paused, his sharp gaze searching my face. For the first time since we met, the cold, distant neutrality in his posture shifted. Something raw, profound, and undeniable flickered in his amber eyes, a spark of genuine, unyielding respect.

"Most noblewomen in your position would be begging for a garrison treaty, Lady Guine," Percival noted quietly. "They would willingly trade their sovereignty to an Alpha in exchange for protection from Thornfield's political machinery."

"I am not the most noblewomen, Alpha," I met his gaze without flinching. "I did not break my chains at the Draven pack house simply to place my neck under a different Alpha's collar. Eclipse Hollow is mine. I will bleed for every inch of this stone before I yield control of my land to anyone."

Percival stared at me for a long, silent moment. Then, a low, slow nod bowed his head. "Then we stand on common ground. I will block Thornfield’s petition at the Council level, Lady Guine. Not out of charity, but because I would rather have an unyielding neighbor at my flank than a greedy puppet like Roderick Thornfield."

Before I could reply, the heavy iron gate knocker rang out from the lower courtyard.

Mrs. Ashcombe hurried up the terrace steps, her face pale, holding out a silver tray bearing a single, delicate pink envelope. The scent of sweet jasmine immediately cut through the crisp mountain air.

"A courier from the Moonstar Pack, My Lady," Mrs. Ashcombe whispered nervously. "He dropped it at the postern gate and fled."

I felt Percival’s eyes trace the gilded rose wax seal as I took the envelope. "Forgive me, Alpha. It seems my past refuses to stay buried."

"I will take my leave," Percival said, taking a step back toward his stallion. "My warriors will maintain a quiet watch along your southern ridge. If Thornfield moves his men, you will have advance warning."

"Thank you, Percival," I said softly, using his name directly for the very first time.

His amber eyes flared with a brief, dark warmth before he mounted his horse and galloped out through the gates, leaving me alone on the terrace with Morgause’s sweet, suffocating poison.

I broke the gilded rose seal and unfolded the fine silk parchment.

Morgause no longer bothered with false sweetness, polite concern, or dramatic appeals to sisterhood. Her swooping calligraphy was sharp, aggressive, and heavy with frantic venom.

Guine,

Your pathetic little display of rebellion has gone entirely too far. Kael is becoming insufferable and difficult to manage. He spends his nights drinking, obsessing over your departure, and questioning the legitimacy of my position. You have disrupted the harmony of this household, and Sefa’s future is now directly threatened because of your disgusting, selfish pride.

Do not think that hiding behind the broken stones of Eclipse Hollow makes you untouchable. A woman alone in the wild is nothing more than prey. I built my place in this world with blood, patience, and absolute determination, and I will not allow one bitter, plain woman's arrogance to destroy everything I have cultivated.

I have already begun speaking to certain Council elders and private contractors who specialize in resolving territorial inconveniences. They can make your life at Eclipse Hollow very short, and very difficult.

Consider this your final notice.

— Morgause

I stared down at her frantic threats, my heart beating steady and calm. The dark mark on my wrist throbbed with a low, satisfying heat beneath my sleeve. Morgause was losing her grip. Kael was unraveling without my silent labor holding his life together, and Morgause was realizing that without me to play the scapegoat, all of Kael’s volatile flaws were turning directly onto her.

She was terrified. And terrified women made fatal mistakes.

I turned the page over to burn it, but as the sunlight hit the lower corner of the parchment, my eyes caught a small, messy postscript written in tiny, cramped ink at the very bottom of the page.

It was not written in Morgause’s graceful calligraphy. It was written in a hurried, familiar hand I recognized all too well.

At the bottom of the page, written in a smaller hand, was one final line:

“You should have stayed useful, Guine. Useful women are harder to replace.”