Chapter 7

Vira's POV 

Gryfyn did not let go of my chin immediately. His thick thumb stayed pressed against my lower lip, his broad, calloused hand holding my face tilted up while his golden eyes burned into mine.

The heat from his skin poured straight through my jaw, making my blood race and my core throb with a sudden, traitorous ache that made me hate my own body.

"You think you can fight me with sharp words, Vira," Gryfyn murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, low rasp that brushed against my cheek like hot velvet. "But your skin jumps every time I touch you, and your wolf is practically clawing at your chest to get closer to mine."

"She is confused by an oath I never asked for," I forced out, my voice trembling slightly as I dug my short fingernails into the palms of my hands. "Release me, Gryfyn."

His eyes dropped to my mouth for one long, agonizing second, his nostrils flaring wide as he took in the heavy, sweet scent of my rising pulse. He did not kiss me. Instead, he shoved his thumb against my lip one last time before dropping his hand to his side, stepping back just enough to let the cold air slide back between us.

Before I could draw a full breath, the heavy oak door creaked open. Two young servant boys rushed into the room carrying a large brass brazier filled with glowing red coals, followed by Kaelen, who held a heavy wooden tray lined with iron bowls.

The boys set the brazier down near the empty hearth, and within seconds, a deep, scorching heat bloomed through the small stone room, chasing away the bitter frost creeping off the window slit. Kaelen placed the tray on the small wooden washstand, bowing his head quickly to Gryfyn before stepping back toward the doorway.

"The meal is hot, My King," Kaelen said, his eyes carefully avoiding mine. "Fresh venison stew, black bread, and spiced wine from the lower kitchens."

"Leave us," Gryfyn ordered without looking at him.

Kaelen hesitated for a fraction of a second, his dark brows pulling together as he glanced at me, but he nodded quickly and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the heavy door shut behind him. The iron bolt did not slide into place this time.

I stood near the edge of my hard wooden cot, my bare feet planted on the cold stone floor, watching Gryfyn closely. He walked over to the washstand, his broad shoulders filling the narrow space as he picked up the clay pitcher. He slammed it down onto the stone basin, breaking the layer of ice inside with a sharp, echoing crack, and poured cold water over his hands.

"Eat," Gryfyn commanded, turning back to face me as he wiped his wet fingers on a cloth. "You haven't touched food since yesterday morning."

"I am not hungry," I lied, though the mouthwatering smell of thick meat broth and warm baked bread was already making my stomach twist into painful knots.

Gryfyn let out a dark, quiet scoff. He walked across the room, grabbed the heavy wooden tray in one hand, and carried it straight over to the cot. He set it down on the edge of the mattress, then took two wide steps back, folding his broad arms over his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the rough stone wall.

"You will eat every bite of that stew, Vira," Gryfyn said flatly. "I need you strong enough to stand on your own two feet tomorrow when the pack elders gather in the courtyard."

I frowned, looking up from the tray. "Why are the elders gathering?"

"Because Cassian is not the only one who thinks you are a useless southern burden," Gryfyn replied, his golden eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "The pack wants to see what I brought back from the Lynx estate. They expect a weak, delicate little bird crying for her mother's silk gowns. They want a reason to demand I execute you and march our war wolves straight into your father's valley."

My chest tightened, my hands tightening into fists against the gray wool of my dress. "And what do you want, Gryfyn?"

"I want my border secured, and I want the gold your father owes my throne," Gryfyn said, his voice hard as iron. "And until I get both, you are the shield standing between my pack's iron blades and your father's neck."

"I am not a shield for a coward like Lord Lynx," I spat, my voice rising with a sudden, bitter heat that made Gryfyn’s jaw flex. "He traded me away like an old sack of grain because he was terrified of your pack. If you want to cut his throat, go do it yourself. Do not pretend you are keeping me alive out of some dark mercy."

Gryfyn stared at me for three long, breathless seconds, the red glow from the brass brazier casting long, fierce shadows over his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. He took two heavy steps forward, closing the space between us until his massive shadow completely swallowed me.

"You have a big mouth for a girl wearing my wool," Gryfyn whispered, leaning down until his face was only inches from mine. His hot, pine-scented breath hit my lips, making my pulse jump erratically in my throat. "Eat the stew, substitute. Before I decide to feed it to you myself."

I glared into his golden eyes, refusing to back down, but the sharp rumble in my empty stomach betrayed me, echoing loudly through the small, silent cell.

Gryfyn’s lips twitched into a subtle, dangerous smirk. He didn't say another word. He turned on his heel, his dark trousers tight against his thick thighs as he walked toward the oak door. He grabbed the heavy iron handle, pulling the door open just enough to step out into the hallway.

"Rest while you can, Vira," Gryfyn said, looking back over his broad shoulder, his dark gaze raking over my full curves draped in the loose gray dress. "Tomorrow morning, the whole Iron Moon pack will watch you take your place at my side."

Before I could ask him what he meant, Gryfyn stepped out, and the heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. This time, I heard the heavy iron bolt slide back into place with a loud, final clack that made my heart hammer against my ribs.

I stood alone in the warm cell, the heat from the coals washing over my bare skin as I stared at the tray on the cot. The thick scent of the roasted venison filled my nose, my mouth watering so heavily that I couldn't resist any longer. I walked over, sat on the edge of the hard cot, and picked up the heavy wooden spoon with trembling fingers.

As I forced the warm, rich stew down my throat, my mind raced with Gryfyn's parting words. He didn't want a soft southern princess. He wanted a shield, a prisoner, and a show of strength for his ruthless elders.

I set the empty bowl back on the wooden tray, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping the scratchy wool blanket around my shoulders as I looked out the narrow window slit. The storm outside was still howling, blowing cold snow against the thick stone walls, but inside my dark cell, the red coals burned hot and steady.

I closed my eyes, letting the heavy exhaustion of the day finally pull me down onto the straw mattress. I would not let Gryfyn Black break me in front of his pack tomorrow. If the Alpha King wanted to parade me before his wolves like a captured prize, I would make sure every single one of them saw the fire in my blood.