Chapter Six

The iron gates of Ironfang Keep slammed shut with a metallic boom that vibrated straight through the soles of my boots.

Heavy chains rattled into place. Portcullises dropped like giant iron teeth along the perimeter walls, sealing the fortress off from the snowy valley below. Within ten minutes, Alpha Zion had placed the entire capital under martial lockdown. No one entered. No one left. Anyone caught near the outer ramparts without an officer’s pass was to be executed on sight.

I stood on the stone balcony of the central command wing, the freezing mountain wind whipping my hair across my face. Down in the outer courtyards, hundreds of armored war-wolves were assembling in dark, disciplined ranks. Torches flared through the heavy morning fog, casting bloody reflections on silver shields and broadswords.

They were preparing for war. Against my bloodline.

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the freezing stone balustrade. The distant horn calls from the northern border post hadn't stopped. Two long blasts, followed by a short, frantic blare—the universal signal for an active invasion.

A heavy hand settled on the small of my back, the heat of it burning right through my wool tunic. I didn't need to look up to know it was Zion. His scent—cedar, crushed pine, and the sharp, metallic tang of his dominant Alpha aura—enveloped me instantly.

"You should be resting, Emerald," Zion rumbled, his voice low against the back of my neck. "The doctors haven't finished checking your vitals after yesterday's strain."

"My father is somewhere on that northern trail," I said, my voice tight and level as I stared down at the marching troops. "And now an army carrying my family's crest is marching toward your border. You expect me to sit in a bedroom and sip tea?"

Zion didn't answer right away. His fingers pressed slightly firmer against my waist, a subtle, possessive anchor that kept me grounded despite the adrenaline roaring in my veins.

"Come inside," he commanded softly.

He didn't wait for my agreement. Zion turned and walked through the heavy oak doors leading into the High Command War Room. I followed him, my boots clicking against the polished black granite floor.

The war room was massive, dominated by a giant carved wooden map table that depicted the entire northern territory. Miniature iron pieces representing Ironfang platoons were scattered along the southern riverbank. But across the river—stretching along the jagged passes of the Kirby ancestral lands—sat a dozen wooden markers painted in bright, aggressive gold.

Standing around the table were Beta Julius, Commander Kael, and half a dozen senior war generals. But as soon as Zion stepped into the room with me at his side, the generals went dead silent.

Beta Julius stepped forward, holding a rolled piece of heavy, blood-stained canvas.

"Alpha," Julius said, bowing his head briefly. "Our forward scouts just returned from the river crossing. They intercepted a rogue vanguard three miles north of the border post. They brought this back from the enemy's lead standard-bearer."

Julius unrolled the canvas across the map table.

It was a war banner. Made of rich, dark crimson silk, it bore a giant golden lion encircled by three sharp stars—the Royal Seal of the Kirby House.

My breath hitched in my throat. I took a step toward the table, my eyes scanning every inch of the fabric.

"They’re flying your father’s colors, Emerald," Commander Kael spat, his hand resting heavy on the hilt of his broadsword, his eyes narrowing at me with cold suspicion. "Two thousand armed wolves crossed the river at midnight. They’ve burned two border outposts and executed seven of our border guards. They claim they’ve come to liberate the 'Royal Princess' from Ironfang captivity."

"That's impossible," I rasped, my hands trembling as I reached out and touched the edge of the silk banner.

"The proof is on the table, girl!" one of the senior generals growled, stepping forward. "Your father barely stepped foot outside our gates before his old army mobilized! This was planned! He used your surrogate contract as a distraction while his loyalists gathered at the river!"

"Shut your mouth, General," Zion snapped, his voice dropping into that terrifying, death-quiet register that instantly silenced the entire room.

The general choked back his next words, stepping back with a stiff bow.

I ignored them both. My fingers slid over the golden embroidery of the lion’s mane. I leaned down, bringing my face closer to the fabric, sniffing the dye.

Then, a cold, sharp realization struck my chest like an ice blade.

"This banner is a fake," I declared, my voice echoing clearly through the silent war room.

Commander Kael let out a dark, mocking laugh. "A fake? Princess, that is royal silk, dyed in the northern fashion—"

"The Kirby Royal House never used golden thread on war banners," I cut him off, my voice turning to pure steel as I looked up, locking eyes with Zion. "We used silver. Gold was reserved exclusively for internal court ceremonies. Furthermore, the lion’s claws on a genuine Kirby crest face left, toward the heart. On this banner, the claws are facing right."

The room went dead quiet.

Beta Julius leaned down, examining the embroidery closely. "She's right. The claw direction is inverted."

"Not only that," I continued, my mind racing as the tactical puzzle pieces clicked into place, "the dye on this silk isn't northern pine-ash. It's crushed madder-root. It's a southern dye. It comes from the trade routes controlled by the Sterling family."

Sylvia Sterling's family.

Commander Kael’s jaw dropped slightly, his hand slipping off his sword hilt as he stared at me in total shock. The senior generals looked at one another, suddenly unable to meet my gaze.

Zion didn't look surprised.

He stood at the head of the table, his broad chest rising and falling slowly, his pitch-black eyes fixed entirely on my face. He had been watching my reaction the entire time. Testing my instincts. Seeing if I would panic, lie, or analyze.

Zion stepped around the map table, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet room. He stopped right in front of me, his massive frame blocking out the light from the braziers behind him.

"Clear the room," Zion commanded, his voice rumbling through the stone walls.

"Alpha?" Beta Julius hesitated. "The border defense plan—"

"I said clear the room!" Zion barked, an Alpha aura pulse rippling out from his body that made every officer in the room bow instinctively.

Within five seconds, the generals, Kael, and Julius scrambled out of the war room, pulling the heavy oak doors shut behind them.

I was left alone with Zion.

The silence between us was heavy, electric, and dangerous. Zion reached out, his long, calloused fingers catching my jaw and tilting my face up. He didn't squeeze, but his touch was possessive, hot, and unyielding.

"You saw it instantly," Zion murmured, his dark eyes searching mine with a terrifying, intense focus.

"I know my own family's history, Zion," I rasped, my pulse hammering against his fingers. "Someone manufactured that banner. Someone paid two thousand mercenaries to wear my house's colors and slaughter your guards."

"I know," Zion whispered, his thumb slowly brushing across my lower lip, sending a violent shockwave of heat straight down my spine.

I blinked, stunned. "You... you knew before I pointed it out?"

A dark, lethal tilt touched the corner of Zion's lips. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his hot breath scorching my skin as he pulled me flush against his hard chest armor.

"I knew the moment my scouts reported the attack," Zion growled, his deep voice lacing with a dark promise that made my blood run cold. "Your house didn't raise that army, Emerald. Someone is using your name to start a war. And they want me to execute you for it."