Chapter 8

Vira's POV

The morning light cut through the narrow window, throwing shadow reflections across the stone floor of my tower cell.

I sat on the edge of the hard wooden cot, my bare toes curling against the freezing stone as I pulled the sleeves of the coarse gray wool dress down over my wrists.

The brass brazier near the empty hearth had gone out hours ago, leaving behind a cold pile of dark ash that smelled of burnt iron and stale pine.

The heavy oak door rattled loudly, the iron bolt sliding back with a sharp, metallic clack that echoed down the spiral stairs.

Two broad Northern guards pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the room with their hands resting on the pommels of their iron swords. Behind them stood an older female servant carrying a large wooden bucket filled with steaming water and a thick, rough linen cloth.

"Get up, girl," the guard on the left growled, his face scarred near his ear. "The King wants you down in the lower courtyard before the morning horn blows."

I slowly pushed myself up from the cot, holding my head high despite the dull ache throbbing in my calves from the long ride yesterday. "Tell your King that I do not jump at his command like a well-trained hound."

The guard let out a harsh, ugly laugh. "You will jump when he orders it, southern brat, or we will drag you down those stone stairs by your hair. Wash your face and put on the boots."

The servant set the bucket down on the floor near my feet, tossing a pair of heavy leather riding boots and a thick woolen cloak onto the cot before hurrying out of the room.

The guards stepped back into the hallway, pulling the door shut just enough to leave a narrow crack open, their heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as they stood watch outside.

I walked over to the wooden bucket, dipping my hands into the warm water. I washed the dried blood off my side, letting the heat sink into my sore skin before wiping my face clean with the rough cloth. I pulled on the heavy leather boots, lacing them tightly around my ankles until my bare feet were finally protected from the bitter floor.

When I stepped out into the hallway, the two guards immediately fell into step on either side of me, their heavy iron shoulder plates brushing against the stone walls as we descended the spiral staircase.

The lower courtyard was filled with dozens of Northern warriors, pack elders, and servant women dressed in heavy black furs.

The air was thick with the smell of roasting meat, horse sweat, and cold mountain frost.

A large wooden platform had been set up in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by four massive iron braziers that sent thick plumes of black smoke into the gray sky.

At the center of the platform stood Gryfyn.

He looked terrifying in the morning light, He wore a dark leather tunic reinforced with heavy iron plates across his broad chest, his thick arms exposed to the cold air, revealing the black pack ink spiraling down his muscular forearms.

His short black hair was swept back from his face, his dark golden eyes scanning the crowd with a cold, absolute authority that made every warrior in the courtyard stand at rigid attention.

The guard on my right shoved my shoulder, forcing me toward the wooden steps of the platform. "Up you go."

I kept my back straight and my chin raised as I climbed the steps, my heavy leather boots thudding against the thick planks. The murmurs of the crowd died down instantly, hundreds of dark eyes fixing on my broad frame draped in the plain gray wool.

Gryfyn turned his head slowly as I reached the top of the platform. His dark golden eyes swept over my face, tracking the sharp, defiant flare in my hazel eyes before dropping down to the full, heavy curve of my waist under the coarse dress.

He didn't offer a hand. He stepped forward, his tall frame blocking out the cold wind, his Alpha aura flaring heavy and suffocating around us.

"You took your time, substitute," Gryfyn said, his deep voice carrying across the silent courtyard like a rolling thunder.

"I do not hurry for men who lock me in stone towers," I replied, my voice steady and sharp as I held his fierce glare.

A few gathered elders gasped at my tone, but Gryfyn’s jaw simply flexed, a small, dangerous spark of heat lighting up the dark depths of his golden eyes. He reached out, his big, calloused hand grabbing my left wrist with an iron grip that pulled me a step closer to his broad chest.

The moment his bare skin touched mine, the sacred mate bond fired through my veins like liquid flame, making my pulse jump violently in my throat.

My wolf let out a quiet, needy whine deep in my mind, making my cheeks burn with a sudden, hot flush.

Gryfyn felt it too. His grip on my wrist tightened, his nostrils flaring wide as he drew in the sweet, warm scent of my rising pulse.

Elder Cassian stepped up onto the edge of the platform, his thin face twisted into a sharp, bitter scowl as he looked at my hand locked in Gryfyn's grip.

"My Lord Alpha," Cassian declared, his loud voice echoing across the courtyard. "The council has gathered. This woman is the daughter of a traitorous house that owes us three years of border taxes.

She is not a royal bride. She is a fake, sent to trick our bloodline. Why does she stand on the Alpha's stone instead of kneeling in chains?"

Gryfyn turned his gaze toward the elder, his eyes narrowing into lethal slits that made Cassian instantly stiffen.

"She stands on this stone because I put her here, Cassian," Gryfyn growled, his voice dropping into a low, guttural register that made the air grow thick and heavy. "She wears the silver ring of the Iron Moon, and her blood answered to mine at the altar."

"She is a southern human with no pack authority!" Cassian demanded, stepping a inch closer. "If Lord Lynx does not surrender his eastern granaries by the full moon, the council demands her execution!"

"If Lord Lynx does not surrender the granaries, I will march our war wolves into his valley and burn his house to the ground myself," Gryfyn retorted, his voice hard as solid iron.

He yanked my arm forward, lifting my left hand high into the cold air for the entire pack to see the silver ring gleaming on my finger. "But while she is inside these walls, she is under my protection. Anyone who raises a hand against her challenges my rule directly."

The courtyard went completely silent. No warrior dared to speak, their heads bowing slightly under the suffocating weight of Gryfyn's absolute command.

I stared up at Gryfyn's sharp, sculpted profile, my heart hammering against my ribs. He was not protecting me out of kindness. He was marking his territory, using me as a shield to crush the challenge of his own elders.

Gryfyn dropped my hand, stepping back just enough to break the scorching physical contact between us, though his golden eyes remained locked on mine.

"Take her back to the West Tower," Gryfyn commanded, looking over toward Kaelen, who stood near the foot of the steps. "And double the guard on her door."

I held Gryfyn's dark gaze, my voice dropping into a sharp, quiet whisper that only he could hear over the wind. "Enjoy your show of strength, Gryfyn. But do not forget that a shield can strike back when you least expect it."

Gryfyn’s lips twitched into a subtle, dangerous smirk as Kaelen stepped up to escort me down the stairs, his voice low and thick with a dark, possessive promise.

"I am counting on it, Vira."