All Chapters of My Husband’s Brother Is My Mate?!: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Three thousand wolves marched north under a shrinking moon.It was the strangest army I have ever seen. Redfang warriors in bearskins and red paint. Ashford farmers on plow horses, with pitchforks and old hunting spears. Blackthorne soldiers in black and silver, grim and trim. Court riders in white cloaks. Wolves from a dozen packs, in furs and leathers and borrowed armor, strung out along the road in a long, ragged, determined line.And above us, night after night, the moon grew thinner.On the first evening, it was a clean silver crescent. By the third, it was a thread. By the fifth night, it would be gone, and the stone at Silverfall would wake.We marched anyway.I rode at the head, with Rhys on my right and Cain on my left. Vivienne rode beside Cain, wrapped in a gray traveling cloak, her chin set. Behind us came Varek and his captains, Hobb and Maddox, Hesper and the other Alphas. Mara and Bryn rode together, close, with Tomas and Kestrel and a very quiet Elowen perched in front

I knew it was a trap.I had known it from the moment I read the letter. Cain knew it. Rhys knew it. Even Elowen, from the saddle, had looked up at me with her huge silver eyes and said, very gravely, "That man is sad.""That man is dangerous," Rhys had said."He is both," said Maeve, from her wagon.We went anyway.It was a matter of arithmetic. A man who writes to you in his own hand, who signs his name, who swears on his son's life, is either a liar or a desperate fool. If he was a liar, we would find out. If he was a fool, we might save him.But I was not stupid. I did not go alone.We reached the Eastern River at sunset, three hours before the appointed time. It ran wide and shallow between two low banks of reeds, with a ford of flat gray stones in the center. Mist rose from the water in thin white ribbons. A single willow hung over the far bank, its branches trailing in the current.It was a lovely, melancholy place.Cain and Rhys and Kestrel went first. They slipped into the ree

"I confess I am rather enjoying this," Corvin's voice said.It came from everywhere. From the sky, from the ground, from the wind in the empty tents. It rolled across the sleeping camp like a note struck on a vast, hollow bell. All around me, wolves jerked awake. I heard a child cry out. I heard someone curse. I heard the rattle of weapons snatched from their sheaths in the dark."Three thousand," Corvin mused. "So many. So brave. So determined to die for a half-Heart and a scrap of vellum." He gave a soft, amused sigh. "I do admire it. Truly. It is such a very young thing to do.""Show yourself," I said.My voice cracked in the cold air."I am showing myself. I am in every breath you draw." The voice sank to a purr. "I wished only to say good evening. And to remind you that the dark is coming. Two days. Perhaps less.""We are not afraid of you.""Of course not. You are too busy being brave." A pause. "But your wolves are tired. Your fires are dead. And my children are very, very hung

We came to Silverfall on the morning of the fourth day.I had not expected it to be so beautiful.The valley lay between two long, green ridges, a wide bowl of rolling meadow threaded with a silver stream. Birches shimmered gold along its banks. Wildflowers dotted the grass. A thin mist drifted over the water. Birds sang in the trees. It looked like the kind of place where children are taught to swim.And in its very center, on a low round hill, stood the stone.It was black.I do not know how else to say it. It was not gray or brown or dark. It was a pure, absolute black, as if a hole had been cut in the world and the shape left standing. It rose twenty feet from the grass, tall and narrow, carved with a thousand tiny spirals. The morning sun did not touch it. It drank the light.I reined in at the top of the ridge.Beside me, Rhys let out a long, slow breath."That is it," he said."Yes.""It is smaller than I remembered."I turned.He was staring at the hill. His face had gone pale

"Up!" Cain's voice roared through the camp. "Up! To your places!"The whole ridge woke at once.I sprinted the last hundred yards, my cloak streaming, and burst into the camp in a storm of shouting. Wolves poured out of tents half-dressed, grabbing swords and spears. Horses screamed. A cook dropped a cauldron. Somewhere, Elsie was wailing, a thin, terrified sound."Selene!" Rhys met me at the edge of the camp. He was in half-armor, his sword in his hand, his hair wild. His eyes blazed. "Where were you?""I went to think.""I woke up and you were gone!""I am sorry.""I thought..." His voice cracked. "Never mind. Come on."He seized my hand. We ran.The army was forming up along the ridge. Varek's Redfang held the center, five hundred bearskinned warriors in a tight, bristling wedge. Bran's Eastern Hills wolves, eight hundred strong, held the left. Hesper's Court riders held the right. Between them, in a thin, ragged line, stood the farmers and smiths and clerks and cooks of Ashford, w