MasukWe come back to Ashen with smoke on our clothes and blood under our nails and six crates tied to horses that are too tired to complain.It is not much. Six crates out of a depot that held fifty, maybe sixty, and two wolves dead who should not be dead, and a burn on my forearm from a torch I grabbed to throw that is already blistering. But it is food and it is weapons and it is proof that twelve wolves can hit Stoneclaw and live, which is more than Ashen has seen in ten years.Brennor is waiting at the tree line where Mara left us, with Theo beside him.Theo is alive. That is the first thing I see, and everything else stops for a second because he is alive and he is standing and there is a bowl of stew in his hands that he is eating very carefully, like someone told him to eat slow."Nyx," he says, turning his sewn face toward us before anyone speaks, because of course he knew we were coming. "You brought crates."I slide off my horse before it has fully stopped, Mira still a mile back
Grayrock is not a rock and it is not gray, which feels like a personal betrayal when you have ridden all night to get there.It is a pass, narrow and ugly, with cliffs on both sides that funnel wind and wolves and anything else stupid enough to try to get through, and Stoneclaw has built a depot in the middle of it, half tents and half wooden walls, because they are planning to stay. Crates of dried meat, barrels of water, weapons stacked like firewood, and at least forty wolves guarding it who are not expecting to be hit, because who would be stupid enough to hit a supply line when you are outnumbered three to one?We would."We are stupid," Silas whispers from where we are crouched on the ridge above, looking down at the depot through Kain’s spyglass. "I just want it noted for history that we are very, very stupid and brave.""We are not stupid," Kain says, but he is marking positions on his map with charcoal, and his hand is steady, which means he is scared. Kain’s hands only get s
The Alpha of Ashen does not meet us in a throne room, because Ashen does not believe in thrones.He meets us in a clearing where his pack has laid out the bones of his sons on black cloth, two piles, white and clean, like offerings, and an old man kneeling between them with his head bowed and his hands empty. No guards, no priests, no crown, just a wolf who has outlived his children and is waiting to see if we are worth the last thing he has left to lose."You are the girl who split the chapel," he says without looking up, and his voice is rough from disuse."I am Nyx," I say.He finally looks at me, and his eyes are yellow and wet and old. "I am Brennor. These were Joren and Kell. Joren was taken for the Fifth Law when he was nineteen, same age you are now. They cut his throat in the arena and called it holy. Kell was ten when they bled him to see if his blood would make a Luna stronger."Mira presses her face into Rook's leg. He puts a hand on her head, awkward and gentle."I am sor
Ashen does not have walls, and that tells you everything you need to know about them.Stoneclaw has walls, thick and high and built to keep the world out. Red River has gates with guards who ask your name and your rank and whether you are worth letting in. Ashen has trees that get thinner and thinner until they are not forest anymore, but a village tucked into the trees, houses of dark wood with smoke coming out of chimneys that smells like pine and old stew, and wolves lying in the sun who lift their heads when they smell us and do not stop staring.Eighty wolves, Kain said. It looks like more when you count pups and elders, and it looks like less when you think about three hundred Stoneclaw wolves coming to burn it down."They have known we are here for an hour," Theo says softly from behind us, his horse stopped at the tree line without being told. "They are deciding if they let us in.""Deciding?" Rook repeats, already bristling, because Rook does not do waiting well when he is ti
We ride until the horses start to stumble, because stopping feels too much like dying.They are not our horses, they are Harkon’s warhorses, big, scarred beasts that were bred to carry armored wolves into battle, and even they are blowing hard by the time we reach the tree line that marks the edge of Stoneclaw territory. Behind us, the city is just smoke now, a dark smudge against a darker sky, and the arena bell has finally stopped ringing, which is worse than when it was ringing, because silence means whoever is left alive has made a decision about what comes next.Mira is in the saddle in front of me, because Rook lifted her out of Harkon’s arms the second we cleared the north tunnel and put her in mine without asking, like he knew I would not be able to breathe until I felt her weight.She is asleep now, her head tucked under my chin and her small hands fisted in my bloody shirt, and the tether between us is finally quiet, not pulsing with fear anymore, just warm and steady and th
The arena bell does not stop ringing, and that is how I know we are already too late.It has not rung in twenty years, not since the last war between packs, and every wolf in the city knows what it means when it does. It means the packs are gathering, it means blood is about to spill, and it means someone broke the truce we bled to get this morning."The courtyard," Rook says, and he is already pulling me toward the chapel doors, his claws out and his eyes black with the kind of rage that has kept him alive for centuries. "Harkon—"The doors burst open before he can finish, and Harkon staggers in with blood on his face and a wound down his arm that should be closing faster than it is."South gate," he gasps, pressing his hand to the gash. "Three banners, Stoneclaw, Red River, and Ashen. They came through before we could lock down, and they are not here to talk."Three packs, sixty wolves at least, maybe more, and they are here because Draevor is dead and the city is without an Alpha a
I don’t sleep after Kain’s lab. I can’t.Every time I close my eyes, I see that 1% future: me pregnant, Rook alive, a crown in my hands that used to belong to Kain. In 99 other futures, someone I care about dies screaming.The bottle Kain gave me sits on my bedside table. Three drops to fake Mira’s
Kain doesn’t summon me to his tower. He sends a guard with a sealed note and a vial of clear liquid.Drink. It won’t kill you. Day 4 starts when you do.I stare at the vial for a long time before I unstop it. It tastes like nothing, which is worse than poison. At least poison is honest.The guard l
Alpha Draevor doesn’t sit on a throne when he wants to make a point. He stands, forcing everyone in the room to look up at him, and it makes me feel smaller than I already am.The throne room is empty except for him, his two guards, and me. This isn’t an official Law meeting. This is a message mean
The blood on my knife isn’t mine. It’s Rook’s. Again.He leans back against the stone wall of the training pit, grinning with a split lip and a fresh cut across his collarbone. The one I gave him five minutes ago. It’s already clotting, skin knitting back too fast to be natural. Too fast to be dea







