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Chapter 65

Author: RoseyButter
last update publish date: 2026-10-06 15:58:48

Gryfyn’s POV

"Do you want to go to my bedroom, substitute," I growled low into Vira’s ear, my broad hand sliding around her middle to pull her broad frame flush against my heavy, armored front.

We stood on the high granite steps of Iron Moon's outer courtyard under the cold morning sun. Below us, kneeling in a line on the dirt floorboards, were the four surviving rebel captains Kaelen’s men had dragged back from the twin boulder pass. Their leather coats were ripped, their hands bound tightly b
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    Vira’s POVThe oak table in our war tent trembled as the distant blare of a golden royal horn echoed through the eastern ravine.Outside the thick canvas walls, seven hundred heavy riders and fifty elite guards moved into immediate tactical formation. The crisp morning air turned electric with the sharp metallic clatter of broadswords being cleared from scabbards and the heavy thud of iron-shod hooves against the icy dirt."Stand down!" Kaelen’s voice thundered across the perimeter, smooth and authoritative. "Hold the line! It is a royal diplomatic escort under a white banner!"Inside the tent, Gryfyn didn't move toward his broadsword. Instead, his massive, calloused hand reached across my middle, drawing my broad frame flush against his heavy, dark-leather war armor. The crimson silk lining our high collars brushed against my skin, warm and familiar, as his dark wolf ink pulsed hot across his neck. His golden eyes flared with a wild, feral heat as his chin settled over my shoulder."

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    Vira’s POVThe freezing morning air hung heavy over the outer perimeter of the Grand Capital, thick with the sharp tang of wood smoke, wet stone, and rising tension.From our high vantage point on the jagged granite ridge, the vast metropolis stretched across the valley floor below like an ancient, sleeping beast. Its massive white stone walls towered forty feet high, reinforced with heavy iron bastions and lined with hundreds of royal banners fluttering lazily in the icy wind. Beyond those outer ramparts rose the glittering spires, high archways, and massive golden domes of the Grand Assembly—the heart of the High Council’s corrupt power.Gryfyn reined in his massive black warhorse right beside my dark stallion, the heavy leather of our matching war armor creaking softly in the quiet morning. The rich crimson silk lining our high collars caught the cold grey light, flashing like fresh blood against the dark leather. Behind us, arrayed in tight, silent rows along the pine ridge, sto

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    Vira’s POVGryfyn pulled me up onto his saddle before my heels could even touch the damp grass outside the eastern tollhouse.His broad, calloused hand had hooked firmly around my waist as my dark stallion came to a halt, swinging my broad frame effortlessly over his horse's pommel and settling me flush against his heavy, armored chest. Before Kaelen could even turn his mount around to ask for night guard assignments, Gryfyn kicked his black warhorse into a swift, silent trot, carrying us away from the noisy army encampment and deep into the dark pine canopy above the mountain river."Gryfyn, the camp fires are not even fully lit yet," I gasped out, my hands coming up to lock around his broad, tattooed neck as his horse navigated the quiet forest trail."Kaelen knows how to set perimeter watch without my supervision for one hour, substitute," Gryfyn growled rough into my hair, his deep gravelly voice vibrating straight through my back. His dark leather war armor felt cool against my

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    Vira’s POVLocal villagers lined the dusty edges of the high trade road three deep, standing on wooden rain barrels and climbing the lower branches of yellowing birch trees just to see our advancing line.They had brought their children, wrapped in patched wool shawls, holding them up high over the timber fences as the heavy thud of a hundred iron hooves echoed off the granite valley walls. Old farmers in leather aprons leaned on their wooden pitchforks, their weathered mouths hanging open in total silence as seven hundred heavy riders swept down the dirt path in silent, terrifying discipline."Look at her brass seal!" a young woman called out from the front row, her voice trembling with raw excitement as she pointed toward my chest. "It’s true! She carries the seal of the First Line!""She’s the one who tamed the Wild Alpha King!" an old man shouted back, waving a bundle of dried lavender toward our column. "Bless the High Queen! Bless the North!"Whispers traveled down the crowd lik

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    Vira's POV "I can smell your wetness, high queen," Gryfyn murmured right against my ear, his large hand sliding down my leather-clad hip to pull me flush against his saddle while our horses matched stride at the head of the column.I shifted slightly against his heavy frame, feeling the solid heat of his chest press through our matching dark-leather armor. The crimson silk lining our high collars brushed against my neck with every breath we took."I am not wet, Gryfyn," I answered smoothly, turning my head enough to catch the rough stubble along his jaw. "I am calculating how many miles we cover before the sun hits the western ridge.""You get hungry too much," he growled low, his thumb pressing firm into the curve of my waist through the thick hide. "You could just lean back against me and let my elite guard handle the distance.""Your elite guard cannot negotiate trade rights with the central pack leaders when we cross their borders," I teased back, a slow smile touching my lips as

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    Vira’s POV"You are measuring my broad shoulders for the third time, Vira," Gryfyn growled low into my hair, his massive, calloused hand reaching around my middle to draw my broad body flush against his heavy frame.We stood inside the private armory of the northern border outpost, where two giant iron hearths roared with bright, crackling flames. The thick stone room smelled of heated iron, boiled leather, and rich pine oil. Spread across the massive oak table in the center of the room were bolts of heavy dark-leather armor hide, sheets of hammered black steel plates, and spools of royal crimson silk thread brought down from the central weavers' guild."I am measuring your shoulders because a single loose strap on your shoulder guard will throw off the balance of your broadsword during a heavy strike, Gryfyn," I replied smoothly, keeping my voice calm and razor-sharp. I pulled the marked leather measuring strap tight across his broad, tattooed back, my thumbs pressing firm against t

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