C3

Maristella Winterfang

Alaric Thorncroft snapped his zero-power glasses off, folding the temples closed, one side at a time, before slamming them onto the cold stone table. He ripped his leather tunic back over his thick, muscular five-foot-eight frame, his brow furrowing as he glared down at his black-shell signal device.

The three missed marks from an unknown signal burned on the glass, right above a single transmitted text from his wife. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a hot, impatient sigh. Not now. He shoved the device into his belt without reading it, turning toward the door of the Wolf's Rest Lodge.

A soft scraping of claws on stone made him turn as Ysoria Blackbriar stepped into the chamber, holding a steaming wooden bowl of crushed moon-herbs and roasted meat.

"I brought you nourishment, Lord Thorncroft," Ysoria purred, her eyes trailing over his broad chest.

Alaric’s jaw hardened. He stepped forward, snatching the wooden bowl from her hands and placing it on the heavy oak ledge. "Why are you up? It is not your duty. And what kind of low-tier lodge is this that provides no servants? Let us leave. I have a territorial council meeting with the pack elders, and I cannot believe I slept through the dawn."

He pulled on his leather boots, tightening the straps before shoving his silver pack emblem into his tunic.

"You should drink the herbs first, Alaric," Ysoria urged softly, stepping closer.

"I have no time for this," Alaric grunted, scanning the stone floor for his carriage reins. "I need to return to the Alpha Manor to wash off this trail dust. Maristella will have prepared the morning blood-feast. I will grab a bite and—" He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze softening as he looked down at her heavily wrapped ankle. "Why are you walking? The High Shaman ordered complete rest for your foot."

He reached out, his thick fingers tracing her dark hair, before snatching a piece of dried meat from the bowl and chewing it down.

"I will order Fenric Hollowmere to haul your travel chests to the Alpha Manor," Alaric said, his tone authoritative. "You will stay in the upper quarters for two full moons until your bone mends. I will inform Maristella before you arrive. She will prepare a healing broth for your recovery."

Before he could take a step toward the iron doorway, Ysoria lunged forward, her high-born frame pressing flush against his massive biceps. Alaric went completely still, his heart thumping hard inside his chest as her sweet, perfume-heavy scent hit his nose.

It was no secret across the Frostfang territory that he had once bled for this female, that he had fought in the blood-arenas to win her hand before she left for the outer packs. Standing this close to her in the dim light of an off-territory lodge set his instinct on fire.

"Forgive me, Alpha," Ysoria whispered, her hand lingering on his chest. "I lost my footing..."

Alaric lifted two fingers, pressing them firmly over her lips to cut off her words. "You do not need to explain yourself to your Alpha."

Ysoria smiled innocently. "Is it wise, Alaric? I have stayed at the Alpha Manor before, but only for a night during the winter hunt. I do not want your low-born female to misinterpret my presence."

Alaric waved his massive hand dismissively. "Do not concern yourself with Maristella. She spends her entire existence in the kitchen preparing meat. I rarely eat at the lodge anyway. She will likely be thrilled to have another she-wolf inside the gates."

Ysoria shook her head softly. "You do not understand how lower-grade Omegas think. She will grow jealous, and I refuse to come between an Alpha and his mate-bond."

Alaric cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline. "You are a Blackbriar noble and my lieutenant before anything else. If she cannot accept your place in my dominion, I am under no obligation to tolerate her whining. I will handle her. She has a habit of throwing childish fits, but I will not permit her to disrespect you."

He turned and strode out of the lodge, stepping directly onto the Frostfang Capital Roads. Instead of riding toward his manor, he redirected his mount straight to the Thorncroft Moon Dominion, remembering a territorial treaty he needed to review before the High Council assembled.

"Lord Thorncroft!" Fenric Hollowmere called out, rushing down the grand stone steps of the central keep as Alaric dismounted. "Where were you during the midnight watch?"

Alaric raised an eyebrow, adjusting his posture as he strode past his second-in-command into the central hall. "You sound like a nagging mate, Fenric."

Fenric cleared his throat nervously. "My apologies, My Lord. But you need to see this immediately. I attempted to reach your signal device through three different warriors, but your line was dead. I ordered the Moon Herald Council to suppress the crystal transmissions, but they require your direct Alpha seal to erase it entirely."

Alaric halted in the center of the hall, turning his head sharply. "Suppress what?"

Fenric stepped forward, holding out a parchment scroll imprinted with live crystal projections. The images showed Alaric carrying Ysoria through the gates of the Moonclaw Healing Hall, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. The headlines across the capital burned in bright red dye: LORD THORNCROFT STAUNCHES BLOOD FOR HIS NOBLE MISTRESS.

Since his mate-oath with Maristella was never formally announced to the outer territories to protect his political standing, the northern packs still considered him an unbonded Alpha.

Alaric’s eyes darkened, a dangerous rumble stirring in his broad chest. "Do these gossip-mongering heralds have nothing better to do than spy on an Alpha's movements?"

"It is their duty to report pack bloodlines, My Lord," Fenric muttered under his breath, keeping his head low.

"Burn the projections," Alaric snapped, his jaw tight. "I want every crystal cleared before I return from the council." He paused, his mind suddenly flickering to Maristella’s quiet face. If she saw these projections, she would probably try to confront him again, just like she did when Ysoria tended to his shoulder wound after the border skirmish.

He shook his head, snatching the treaty file from the stone table. "Arrange a formal meeting with Cassiel Ravenscar. He has returned from the eastern border and is resting near the Silverhoof Trail by Moonlake."

Fenric bowed quickly. "Understood, Lord Thorncroft. Lady Ysoria is an expert equestrian. Shall I prepare a mount for her as well? Joining you at the trail would solidify our alliance with House Blackbriar."

"Tell her to prepare," Alaric ordered, stepping out into the courtyard. As he passed a group of young pack warriors, he heard them whispering about how powerful a bond between Thorncroft and Blackbriar would be, and he gritted his teeth in irritation. These rumors were becoming a pestilence.

He mounted his beast, charging down the path toward the Thorncroft Alpha Manor to change his armor. His communication crystal hummed against his wrist, flashing with the seal of Oswin Thornfield.

He pressed the connection. "Speak, Oswin."

"Well, well," Oswin’s mocking laugh echoed through the crystal. "I thought you were bound to that quiet little Omega from the southern borders, but it seems you still know how to hunt outside your territory."

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "Watch your tongue, Oswin, before I tear it out. You know I do not break pack law."

Oswin chuckled darkly. "I know the law, Alaric, but I also know your mate-bond with that four-foot-five Omega is the only thing keeping you from taking Ysoria into your bed. You cannot fool the inner circle. You still burn for the Blackbriar bloodline, don't you?"

Alaric went completely silent, his fingers tightening on the leather reins until the straps groaned. Was his three-year oath to Maristella truly the only barrier stopping him from taking Ysoria as his true Luna?

He stared at the tree line ahead, his mind racing before he growled, "I am riding. We will speak at the assembly."

He severed the link and kicked his beast into a gallop, pulling up outside the towering iron gates of the Thorncroft Alpha Manor. The massive stone residence felt strangely desolate as he walked through the heavy front doors.

It was quiet. Unusually quiet.

He took a deep breath, assuming his soft-spoken mate was still asleep in the lower quarters after waiting up for him. He marched up the stone staircase to his private washroom, scrubbed the blood and dirt from his skin, and threw on a fresh tunic.

Thirty minutes later, he walked into the central dining hall, his brow furrowing instantly.

The long oak table was bare.

In three full years of their mate-oath, this table had never been empty at sunup. There was always hot roasted game, fresh bread, and spiced wine waiting for him, no matter how cold he treated her.

He walked into the back prep quarters. The stone counters were scrubbed clean. The hearth was pitch black, stripped of all wood and fire. It looked as if no living soul had inhabited the space for moons.

"Maristella?" he called out, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls.

Getting no response, he pulled his communication device from his belt to track her location, but before he could press her mark, the device vibrated with an incoming signal from a high-ranking council line.

He pressed the seal. "Lord Thorncroft speaking."

"Greetings, Lord Thorncroft. This is Rowan Silverclaw from the Moon Oath Registry Hall," a rigid female voice announced over the line. "We are contacting you to confirm the filing of a complete mate-severance petition submitted under the name of Maristella Winterfang. The royal annulment decree is officially recorded and will take full legal effect after the thirty-day moon cycle. Either party may step forward to contest the severance during this window."

Alaric stood frozen in the center of the cold hall, the device slipping a fraction of an inch in his massive, trembling grip.