All Chapters of Vying For The Alpha's Heart: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The bird that descended upon Ashwood Castle was not a delicate white dove carrying a ribbon.It was a hawk. A massive, scarred creature with feathers the color of dried blood and talons that looked capable of crushing a man’s skull. It didn't land gracefully on a perch. It dove from the sky like a missile and landed on the roasted pig in the center of the breakfast table with a wet thud and a screech that shattered glass.Servants screamed and scattered. Oreon stood up with his hand on his sword. Eltonia, standing by the sideboard, dropped a pitcher of water.Philia didn't flinch. She smiled."Ah," she said as she wiped grease from her mouth. "Mail call."She reached out, without a glove, and let the hawk hop onto her wrist. Its talons dug into her skin, drawing small drops of blood, but she didn't seem to notice. She untied the leather scroll case from its leg.The Great Hall was silent as she cracked the wax seal. It was black wax. The seal of the Stone Ridge War Council.Philia rea

The silence that settled over Ashwood Castle in the wake of Philia’s departure was not empty. It was heavy.It was the silence of a house that had been holding its breath for weeks and had finally exhaled. The Stone Ridge soldiers were gone. The smell of unwashed leather and roast pig was fading, giving way to by the crisp, clean scent of the wind coming off the mountains.But for Beta Kael, the silence was suffocating.He stood by the broken remnants of the main gate with a hammer in his hand. He wasn't wearing his Beta uniform. He was in his undershirt, his sleeves rolled up, sweat dripping down his forehead as he violently pounded a bent iron bar back into shape.Clang. Clang. Clang.He was punishing the metal. Maybe he was punishing himself."You're going to break the hammer, Statue."Kael froze. He didn't turn around immediately. He took a breath to prepare himself before slowly lowering his arm.Lyra stood a few feet away. She was holding a basket of apples and a waterskin. She

The night before the Rite of Assessment, the Ashwood Castle felt less like a home and more like a tomb waiting for its occupant.Oreon stood on the balcony of his study, staring out at the moonlit lands he might lose by tomorrow. He wasn't wearing his Alpha regalia. He was in a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the scars on his forearms… scars from the fire, scars from training, scars from Philia’s blades.He looked like a man who had fought a thousand wars and was tired of holding up the sky."You should sleep, Alpha," a soft voice came from the doorway.Oreon didn't turn. He knew her step. He knew her scent. "Sleep is for men who have a future, Eltonia. I am not sure I have one past noon tomorrow."Eltonia walked onto the balcony. She carried a tray with a steaming mug of tea, his favorite blend that was heavy on the chamomile. She set it on the railing and stood beside him."You have a future," she said firmly. "You are the Alpha.""For now," Oreon sighed, ru

The gavel didn't bang. The hammer didn't fall. Instead, the decree was spoken with a voice as soft and cold as falling snow."The Alpha is compromised," Lady Miya announced.She didn't shout like Philia. She didn't need to. Her presence was like a vacuum, sucking the noise and the warmth right out of the air."Compromised?" Oreon repeated. He didn't roar. He sounded incredibly fatigued. He leaned against the high table, rubbing his temples. "I am tired, Lady Miya. My pack is tired. We just survived an occupation. Can we not... skip the theatrics?""Sin is not theater, Alpha," Miya replied, her pale eyes unblinking. "It is a rot. And rot spreads through contact."She pointed her weirwood staff at Eltonia, who stood silently in the corner of the alcove."The Law of Distance," Miya recited, "Article Four. 'An unbonded female who clouds the Alpha’s judgment must be removed from his sphere of influence until clarity is restored.'"Oreon straightened up. "She stays. She is my attendant.""S

The servants of Ashwood Castle stood in a single, trembling line in the lower courtyard.It was noon, but the presence of the High Priestess made the sun feel cold. Lady Miya walked down the line with her weirwood staff tapping a slow beat on the cobblestones.Tap. Tap. Tap.She was choosing a personal attendant. The Council Paladins were soldiers; they were too large, too brawny, too... masculine for the delicate work of her inner sanctum. She needed someone local. Someone to fetch her tea, light her incense, and bear witness to her holiness."Too tall," Miya murmured, passing a sturdy stable hand. "You block the light."She moved to the next. A scullery maid with red, chapped hands."Too rough," Miya dismissed, wrinkling her nose. "You smell of onions. It disrupts my meditation."She moved down the line. Her pale eyes scanned them like a hawk scanning for field mice. She didn't want competence. She didn't want strength. She wanted a blank canvas.She stopped at the end of the line.