We rode through the gates into a courtyard full of hard-eyed Lycans sharpening blades and eyeing me like fresh meat. Gunnar dismounted and pulled me down with him. His hand stayed on the small of my back, guiding me toward the main hall. The touch felt too good. Too right.
Inside, the hall smelled of woodsmoke and roasted meat. A long table ran down the center. A woman I didn't know; tall, dark hair, scar across one cheek stood at the head. She looked at me and her lip curled.
"New pet, King?"
"Mate," Gunnar corrected, voice flat. "Elva Porsteinsdóttir. Treat her like you treat me or I'll feed you to the hounds."
The woman: Nina, I guessed from the name tag on her jacket shrugged. "War party's coming for her. Whole border's buzzing. You sure she's worth it?"
Gunnar looked down at me. That spark between us crackled so loud I swore the others could hear it. "She's worth every drop of blood we spill."
I met his eyes. My voice came out quieter than I wanted. "What if I'm not? What if whatever's in my blood gets us all killed?"
He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed my ear. "Then we die fighting. But first we find out what the fuck you really are."
* * * * * *
The horn blasted again, longer this time, like it was daring the whole keep to come out and die. My stomach twisted so hard I felt like taking a shit. Gunnar's hand stayed planted on my lower back, warm and steady, but I felt the tension in his fingers. The great hall emptied fast. Lycans grabbing weapons, boots pounding stone, doors slamming. Nina Logar was already barking orders, her scar twisting when she grinned like she lived for this shit.
I followed Gunnar outside into the courtyard. The wind cut cold off the walls. Up on the battlements, archers lined up, bows drawn. Below, the south gate stood shut, iron teeth of the portcullis glinting. Through the gaps I saw them: at least a hundred wolves and men on foot, banners snapping; black and green, Shadowpine colors. Jakob Bjarnarson sat at the front on a big gray horse, armor strapped tight, face hard as the stone under my feet. My own father. The man who used to tell me stories about brave Lunas. Now he looked ready to carve me open.
Gunnar stopped ten feet from the gate and crossed his arms. "Open the speaking slit," he called up. A guard cranked a lever. The small barred window in the gate dropped with a clang.
Jakob rode closer, voice carrying clear. "Gunnar Sigurdsson. You stole my daughter. Hand her over and we ride away clean. Keep her and this becomes war."
Gunnar laughed once, short and ugly. "Hahaha stole? The moon gave her to me the second I saw her. Your weak-ass heir rejected her in front of the whole pack. She's mine now. Moon's word beats your hurt feelings."
I stepped up beside Gunnar before I could stop myself. My bare feet were freezing on the stone but I didn't care. "Dad," I called through the slit. My voice cracked but I pushed on. "You knew. All those years you knew my wolf wouldn't rise for Sveinn. You let him call me worthless. Let them lock me up. And now you ride here with an army? For what? To kill me yourself?"
Jakob's eyes locked on mine. No softness. No sorry. Just cold calculation. "Elva Porsteinsdóttir. You carry poison in your blood. The old ones warned us. Your grandmother's line wasn't a gift, it was a curse. Lycan blood mixed with something older. Something that wakes up and burns packs to the ground. We kept it quiet to protect Shadowpine. But you woke it anyway."
The words hit like a gut punch. I felt that fire under my skin flare so hot my bitten arm started throbbing again. "Bullshit," I spat. "You sold me out because you're scared. Scared of what I might be."
Matthías appeared on my other side, sword already out. "King, they've got two shamans in the back. Smell the magic. They're not here to talk."
Gunnar didn't take his eyes off Jakob. "Last chance, Beta. Turn around. Take your broken heir and go home. Or I open these gates and we finish this right now."
Jakob raised a hand. The line behind him rippled. Wolves started shifting, fur rippling, growls rolling low. Sveinn's voice suddenly cut through from somewhere behind the walls still locked in the pit but loud enough. "Father! Kill the bitch! She's not worth the blood!"
My own father smiled. Small. Mean. "You hear that? Even your rejected mate knows. Hand her over or we take her. And when we do, we'll bleed the truth out of her. Every last drop."
The spark in my chest exploded. Not pain. Not fear. Rage. Pure, hot, rage. My vision sharpened. I smelled the sweat on the wolves outside, the oil on the gate hinges, the blood already drying on Gunnar's shoulder from last night. My nails dug into my palms and I swore I felt them lengthen just a fraction.
Gunnar felt it. His hand slid to my hip, grip tight like he was anchoring me. "Easy," he muttered under his breath. "Not yet."
But it was too late for easy. I shoved forward and yelled through the slit, "You want me? Come get me, Dad. But know this; when I figure out what the hell I am, I'm coming for every one of you who turned your back on me. Starting with you."
Jakob's face twisted. He raised his arm higher. "Archers —"
Gunnar roared, "Now!"
The gates didn't open. Instead the Lycans on the walls loosed a volley. Arrows whistled down. Shadowpine wolves scattered, some dropping with yelps. One of Jakob's men took a shaft clean through the throat and toppled.
Chaos ripped open. Jakob spurred his horse sideways, shouting orders. Half his line charged the gate, the other half melted into the trees flanking the walls. Howls went up. My old pack: people I trained with, laughed with now trying to tear the keep apart to get to me.
Matthías grabbed my arm. "Inside, girl. You're not dying on my watch."
I yanked free. "No. I'm not hiding anymore."
Gunnar was already moving, barking at Nina. "Take the east tower. Seal the postern. I want that shaman alive if you can." He looked at me, his eyes burning. "You stay at my side. If that power in you decides to wake up today, you point it at them, not me."
I nodded once. My heart was hammering so hard I felt it in my teeth, but the fear had burned off. This was it. The core of everything they'd tried to bury: me, my blood, the bond snapping tight between me and this Lycan King.
I wasn't the broken girl in the white robe anymore.