Chapter 4: Arrival at Frostmane 

The carriage slowed as the mountains rose higher around us.

Snow blanketed the landscape, stretching across the rocky cliffs until earth and sky seemed to melt into the same endless white. Veins of pale crystal shimmered through the mountainside, glowing softly beneath the fading afternoon light like frozen rivers trapped inside stone.

Then I saw it.

Frostmane.

The fortress stood carved directly into the mountain, its towering walls weathered by countless winters. High watchtowers overlooked the valley, while thick plumes of smoke curled from dozens of chimneys. 

Wolves paced along the battlements beside armed sentries, their sharp eyes following our approach. The sight stole my breath. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

The carriage rolled beneath the massive iron gates before finally coming to a stop.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Evren stepped down first and offered me his hand.

His grip was steady as I climbed onto the snow-covered ground.

“They'll be watching you,” he said quietly, his gaze already fixed on the courtyard ahead. “Don't mistake silence for acceptance.”

I managed a small smile. “I wasn't expecting a welcoming parade.”

A faint huff escaped him, so soft I wasn't even sure it counted as a laugh.

“Good.”

The moment ended as quickly as it came.

The courtyard was already filling with people. Warriors in heavy furs stood shoulder to shoulder, servants paused in their work, and several elders watched from the stone steps leading into the manor. No one bothered hiding their curiosity or their distrust. Whispers drifted through the cold air.

“The Verenne daughter.”

“The duke actually brought her.”

"Let's see how long she lasts."

I kept my chin high, though my stomach twisted with every word.

This wasn't an office full of judgmental coworkers. This was my new home, and not a single person wanted me here.

Evren walked ahead, his long strides steady against the snow. I followed half a step behind as we crossed the courtyard. The crowd parted to make way for him, but their eyes remained fixed on me. Some were curious. Most were openly suspicious.

The heavy doors of the fortress swung open.

Warm air rushed toward us, carrying the scent of burning pinewood and a rich stew that had been simmering for hours. Inside, the entrance hall was built from dark stone polished smooth by generations of passing footsteps. Silver banners embroidered with the Frostmane wolf hung from the high walls, while crystal lamps cast a cool glow over the room.

The manor felt less like a palace and more like a stronghold. Everything here was built to endure.

A woman descended the staircase with measured steps. She looked to be in her late forties, dressed in a simple dark gown with her silver-streaked hair pinned neatly behind her head. Her sharp gray eyes swept over me before settling on Evren.

“My lord.”

He gave a slight nod. “Agnes, this is Duchess Odette.”

She turned to me, her expression unreadable. 

“I know who she is.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

Finally, she inclined her head, though only just enough to satisfy courtesy.

“Welcome to Frostmane, Your Grace.”

The words were polite. Her tone was not.

“I hope your stay here proves beneficial to the pack.”

I understood what she truly meant.

Prove you belong.

I offered a calm smile. “I hope so too.”

For the briefest moment, something flickered in her eyes. Perhaps surprise that I hadn't taken offense.

“Your chambers have been prepared,” she said. “Dinner will be served shortly.”

As she turned away, a younger maid hurried past with folded blankets. She glanced at me, stumbled over her own feet, then quickly lowered her head.

“I'm sorry, Your Grace.”

“It's all right,” I said gently.

She blinked, as though she hadn't expected kindness, then rushed away before anyone noticed.

I watched her disappear down the corridor. Maybe not every door in Frostmane was completely closed. Maybe some only needed patience before they opened.

Dinner was announced just as the evening sky faded into darkness. Agnes led me through a series of long stone corridors until we reached the great hall. The room was vast, its high ceiling supported by thick wooden beams darkened with age. A roaring fire burned in the enormous hearth, chasing away the mountain cold, while long tables stretched across the hall beneath iron chandeliers.

The conversations quieted the moment I entered. Dozens of eyes followed me to my seat, but I resisted the urge to lower my head. Evren took his place at the head of the table. I sat at his right, painfully aware that every movement I made was being observed.

The meal began in silence. Servants moved between the tables, placing bowls of stew, roasted meat, fresh bread, and steaming vegetables before the guests.

One servant stopped beside me.

He filled the glasses of everyone around me.

Then he walked away.

My cup remained empty. Whether it was an accident or a deliberate insult, I couldn't tell.

I reached for the bread instead, pretending not to notice.

Across the table, an elderly man with a thick gray beard studied me over the rim of his cup.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “the daughter of House Verenne has finally come to Frostmane.”

Several people looked up from their meals.

“I have,” I answered politely.

“They say your family excels at politics.”

“I wouldn't know.”

A few brows lifted.

The elder leaned back.

“You wouldn't know?”

“I was rarely included in family matters.”

The honesty seemed to catch him off guard.

Before he could reply, another warrior spoke with a faint smile.

“Tell me, Your Grace, what does a southern noblewoman know about surviving a northern winter?”

A ripple of quiet amusement spread through the room.

It wasn't an impossible question.

It was a test.

I set down my spoon before answering.

“Not enough.”

The laughter died almost instantly.

 “I've never lived here,” I continued, meeting his gaze. “But I can learn. I'd rather admit what I don't know than pretend I know everything.”

The warrior stared at me for a long moment before giving a single nod. “Fair enough.”

The tension eased, though only slightly. As the conversation shifted elsewhere, I noticed my hands trembling beneath the table.

Without a word, Evren glanced toward one of the servants.

“Replace the tea.”

The servant immediately removed my untouched cup and returned moments later with a fresh pot of steaming herbal tea.

No explanation was given, and no one questioned the order. Yet I noticed several curious glances directed toward the Duke.

He calmly continued eating as though nothing unusual had happened.

He wasn't shielding me from every slight.

He wasn't rushing to defend me.

But when it mattered, he quietly made sure I wasn't left completely alone.

It was a small kindness, yet somehow it meant more than grand speeches ever could.

By the time dinner ended, I was exhausted. Agnes escorted me to the duchess's chambers in silence. The room was spacious, with tall windows overlooking the snow-covered mountains. Thick furs covered the large bed, and a fire crackled softly in the hearth.

Before leaving, Agnes paused at the doorway and adjusted the edge of my cloak where it had slipped from my shoulder.

The gesture was surprisingly gentle. Then her expression hardened once more.

“Do not mistake service for loyalty, Your Grace.”

The door closed behind her. Alone at last, I let out the breath I had been holding all evening. “I made it through the first day,” I whispered.

It wasn't a victory, but it was a beginning.