Chapter 2 — Marry Her

Varek Keep was awake when Maevra arrived.

Torches burned across the fortress walls. Wolves crowded the lower courtyard despite the hour, held back by rows of armed guards.

News had travelled faster than she had.

Prince Caelen Varek was dead.

And Thornmere’s commander had been found beside him.

“Murderer!”

The first shout came before Maevra passed through the gates.

“Kill her!”

“She murdered the prince!”

Maevra kept walking.

Iron chains bound her wrists. Four guards surrounded her, with more following close behind.

A woman near the front spat at the ground.

“My son died at Greywater because of you!”

That struck harder than the insults.

Maevra remembered Greywater.

She remembered every battlefield where Thornmere and Ravaryn had traded bodies for land neither side kept long.

The guard behind her shoved her shoulder.

“Move.”

Maevra turned her head.

“Touch me again and I’ll make you regret it.”

He glanced at her chains.

“So frightening.”

“They come off eventually.”

His expression changed.

He did not touch her again.

The doors of Varek Keep opened.

Maevra entered the fortress she had spent years imagining as the heart of everything Thornmere hated.

Black stone walls rose around her. Silver banners bearing Ravaryn’s mountain wolf hung between towering pillars.

Soldiers marched her into a crowded council chamber.

Every conversation stopped.

Council elders filled the curved benches. Military commanders stood along the walls. Nobles watched her with expressions ranging from disgust to fascination.

Beta Taven Ryll stood near the raised Alpha seat.

Maevra recognized him immediately.

They had faced each other across battle lines twice.

His hand rested near his sword.

“Maevra Sorn.”

“Taven Ryll.”

His mouth hardened.

One councillor leaned forward. “Make her kneel.”

A guard reached for Maevra.

She stepped aside before he could touch her.

“No.”

Outrage rippled through the chamber.

“You stand accused of murdering Prince Caelen.”

“Accused,” Maevra replied. “Interesting word.”

“You were found beside his corpse.”

“And apparently Ravaryn no longer requires trials.”

The councillor shot to his feet.

“You dare mock us?”

“Trust me. If I were mocking you, you’d know.”

A door opened.

Silence swallowed the chamber.

Maevra felt him before she turned.

Alpha Rhydan Varek entered without ceremony.

No crown.

No armor.

Dark trousers and a black shirt, sleeves rolled beneath his elbows as though someone had dragged him from sleep and told him his brother was dead.

Maevra had seen him across battlefields.

Never this close.

He looked less like the monster Thornmere stories had created and more dangerous for it.

Controlled.

Still.

His amber-brown eyes settled on her.

For six years, Maevra had believed this man ordered her father’s death.

Now his brother was dead, and she stood accused of returning the favor.

Neither spoke.

Two soldiers entered behind Rhydan carrying a body covered in black cloth.

Caelen.

Rhydan looked at his brother.

Something tightened in his face.

Gone almost immediately.

He turned toward the officer who had captured Maevra.

“Report.”

The commander stepped forward.

“Prince Caelen was found dead at the Northwood hunting lodge. Maevra Sorn was inside.”

“Was my brother alive when you entered?”

“No, Alpha.”

“Did anyone witness her killing him?”

“No.”

A councillor interrupted. “We don’t need witnesses. The weapon was Thornmere steel.”

A soldier placed the blade on the table.

Maevra watched Rhydan pick it up.

His thumb brushed the initials carved beneath the hilt.

M.S.

He studied the weapon.

“Blood?”

The commander hesitated.

“None.”

Rhydan looked up.

“The supposed murder weapon had no blood on it?”

“It may have been cleaned.”

“Then conveniently placed beside the body afterward?”

Nobody answered.

His gaze shifted to Maevra.

“Your clothes had blood.”

“Caelen’s.”

The chamber erupted.

Maevra ignored the snarls.

“He was alive when I found him.”

Rhydan went very still.

“You spoke to him?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

Maevra considered withholding it.

Caelen had died trying to tell her something.

Perhaps revealing everything in a room full of strangers would finish the work his killer started.

“He said someone wanted the war to continue.”

Angry voices rose.

“Liar!”

“Execution!”

“She’s manipulating him!”

Rhydan raised a hand.

The chamber quieted.

His eyes remained on Maevra.

“Why were you in Ravaryn?”

“I received a message offering information about my father’s death.”

“From Caelen?”

“I don’t know. He knew why I came.”

Rhydan’s jaw shifted.

“What information?”

“That Cedren Sorn may not have died for the reason I believed.”

“And what did you believe?”

Maevra met his gaze.

“That you ordered his death.”

Several warriors reached for weapons.

Rhydan did nothing.

“Do you still believe that?”

“I haven’t decided.”

Taven stepped forward.

“My Alpha, she was caught beside Caelen’s body. A Thornmere weapon carrying her initials was at the scene. What exactly are we debating?”

Rhydan placed the blade down.

“Whether Maevra Sorn is stupid.”

Taven frowned.

Maevra lifted an eyebrow.

Rhydan continued.

“She secretly crosses our border to assassinate my brother, brings a weapon marked with her initials, kills him without getting blood on it, then remains beside his body until thirty-two Ravaryn soldiers arrive.”

Silence.

Maevra almost smiled.

The silver-haired councillor scoffed. “Perhaps she expected us to doubt something so obvious.”

“Perhaps.”

Rhydan turned toward the commander.

“Why were thirty-two soldiers near Northwood?”

“We received warning that Thornmere warriors had crossed the border.”

“How many did you find?”

“None.”

“Tracks?”

“No.”

“Camps?”

“None.”

Rhydan’s expression hardened.

“So someone reported an invasion that did not exist, sending thirty-two armed soldiers directly toward the building where my brother had just been murdered.”

That silenced even the councillor.

Maevra’s pulse quickened.

Finally.

Someone else saw it.

The lodge had not been discovered by accident.

Lord Malrec Vossan rose from the front bench.

Older. Grey at the temples. Calm in a room filled with anger.

“Rhydan, doubt is reasonable. Recklessness is not. Hold her until we know more.”

“She should be executed tonight,” another councillor snapped. “Anything less invites Thornmere retaliation.”

“Her execution guarantees retaliation,” Rhydan said.

The man waved dismissively. “Then let them come.”

Several commanders voiced agreement.

Maevra listened as the room stumbled toward exactly what Caelen’s killer wanted.

War.

Rhydan looked at her.

“If I execute you before sunrise, what does Thornmere do?”

“March.”

“How quickly?”

“My commanders will know before morning.”

“And the border?”

“Burns.”

Someone laughed bitterly. “Convenient.”

Maevra faced the council.

“If Thornmere sent me to murder your prince, why would we leave our commander waiting beside his body for your guards?”

No answer.

Rhydan descended from the dais.

The room quieted.

He stopped several feet from Maevra.

“My brother’s killer wanted you found.”

“Yes.”

“Wanted Thornmere blamed.”

“Yes.”

“Wanted Ravaryn angry enough to retaliate immediately.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re catching up.”

Taven gave her a murderous look.

Rhydan almost looked amused.

Almost.

Then his attention shifted toward the council.

“Maevra Sorn will not be executed tonight.”

Protests exploded.

“You cannot release her!”

“I said nothing about release.”

Maevra watched him.

Something had changed.

There was calculation behind his eyes now.

A decision forming.

She disliked it immediately.

Malrec stepped toward him. “What are you considering?”

Rhydan looked toward one of the elderly council members.

“Does the Concord Oath still stand under northern law?”

The man's face drained of color.

Maevra froze.

No.

Taven stared at Rhydan.

“You cannot be serious.”

Maevra stepped forward.

“Rhydan.”

His gaze returned to her.

The Concord Oath.

An ancient law neither territory had invoked in generations.

A law created for warring Alpha bloodlines.

Her stomach dropped.

“Don’t.”

Rhydan turned toward the chamber.

“Send for the Keeper of Oaths.”

Chaos erupted.

Maevra barely heard it.

The silver-haired councillor stared at his Alpha.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

Rhydan’s answer came calmly.

“Something whoever murdered my brother did not plan for.”

He looked straight at Maevra.

“Remove her execution order.”

Taven swore beneath his breath.

Maevra’s chains suddenly felt very cold against her wrists.

Rhydan faced the council again.

“Marry her.”

Silence.

Someone inhaled sharply.

Maevra stared at him.

Rhydan Varek had just sentenced her to something she had never imagined.

He met her disbelief without blinking.

“At moonrise tomorrow,” he said, “Maevra Sorn becomes my wife.”