I expected anger.
I expected the Elders to strip my name from their scrolls and lock me in a dungeon of silver chains.
What I didn't expect… was applause.
"She saved his life," someone shouted.
"Kaelen broke the duel code first!"
"The girl's got fangs."
They weren't cheering for me exactly. Just for the spectacle. But still. A girl takes down an entitled Alpha heir and suddenly she's pack gossip's main course.
And not in a bad way.
Weird.
Ruvan stirred beside me in the infirmary, wincing as he shifted on the cot.
"Don't you dare sit up," I warned.
"You're bossy when I'm injured."
"You're annoying when you're dying."
"Touché."
His wounds were deep—claw slashes to the ribs, cracked collarbone, bruised everything—but he'd live. He was a Ravelle. Stubbornness alone probably regenerated tissue.
Still, I hovered.
Still, I checked his breath every three minutes.
Still… I couldn't stop shaking.
"You saved me," he whispered.
"I wasn't about to let you die," I muttered. "Not until you finally take me on that stupid run you promised."
"Run?"
"You said you'd show me the Ravelle trails in wolf form. I'm holding you to it."
He smiled—groggy, but real.
"Soon as I can shift without howling like a toddler, you're on."
Unfortunately, while Ruvan recovered, I got summoned.
-
Council room.
High ceilings, too many eyes, and the kind of stone walls that felt like they wanted to swallow you whole.
Talia stood beside me like a shield, but her jaw was tight.
"Don't say anything sarcastic," she whispered.
"What if they ask stupid questions?"
"Then lie."
"Terribly?"
"Convincingly."
Great.
The Head Elder was a relic of a man, all bone and robes, voice like old parchment.
"Eira Vale," he said. "You interrupted a sacred duel. Tell us why."
I stepped forward, palms cold.
"Because Kaelen broke the rules first. And because I wasn't about to lose the one person who's actually fought with me instead of for control over me."
A beat.
Silence.
Then another Elder—female, sharper—spoke:
"And what of your lineage? You claim no father among our scrolls."
I held up the pendant we'd taken from the Vault corpse.
"This belonged to Telarion Vale. Blood confirmed. Which means the scrolls were altered."
Murmurs erupted.
Scroll-tampering was high treason.
"And you have proof?"
"Ruvan and I both saw it. So did the Vault."
"That cannot stand."
"Then maybe neither should your titles if you're this scared of truth."
Talia's elbow jabbed my ribs.
Oops.
Sarcasm slipped.
-
The council recessed to "deliberate." Which I was pretty sure meant argue in private and hope someone else cleaned the mess up.
Meanwhile, I took the advice Ruvan couldn't give me yet—
And shifted.
The Ravelle woods in wolf form?
Freedom.
The snow melted under my paws as I ran—pure muscle, fur, breath. My senses flared wide: scent trails, hidden roots, the faint heartbeat of prey too small to matter.
I needed this.
No voices.
No decisions.
Just wind and instinct.
Just me.
Until—
Another heartbeat.
A larger one.
And then, another wolf.
Dark fur.
Silver eyes.
Ruvan.
I nearly skidded into a tree.
He tackled me mid-run—nuzzling, playfully biting at my ear, as if we hadn't just survived political war and attempted assassination.
We wrestled in the snow like pups. Rolled, snapped, leapt.
He pinned me once, growled into my ear.
I snapped back, licking his muzzle.
That earned a full-body shiver from him.
He let me win the next round.
We didn't shift back until dusk, when our paws ached and fur was wet with snowmelt.
I collapsed in the moss, still in wolf form, heart thudding with something that felt dangerously like joy.
Maybe I was never meant to be only human.
-
Later, back in the main house, Talia greeted us with a stack of parchment and one phrase:
"The council is scared. You have leverage now."
"Leverage?" I asked.
"Telarion Vale's bloodline is tied to something bigger than anyone here knew."
"What?"
"A prophecy," she said grimly. "One that says a daughter of Vale would tear down the old order and remake the packs in her name."
I stared.
"That's a little dramatic."
"They thought it was just lore. A bedtime story."
"And now?"
"Now they think you are the bedtime story. With teeth."
-
That night, a letter arrived.
No seal. Just black ink on ash-gray parchment.
It read:
"We see your choices.
You were supposed to remain hidden.
Now the cost will be paid in blood."
—The Oathbound
"Oathbound?" I said aloud.
"It's not possible," Ruvan murmured, reading over my shoulder.
"Who are they?"
"Old-world assassins. Blood-bound to the throne. They vanished after the monarchy fell."
"Looks like they're back. And I think they brought knives."