The first sunrise came not with a glorious burst of light, but with a dull, bruised-purple smear across the horizon. Allister hadn't moved from the large leather chair near his fireplace. The fire had long since died to embers, matching the feeling in his heart. He counted the hours in his head, the passing of time a relentless enemy. Two sunrises left.
He felt Sunflower's presence through the shared wall still, quiet, but the low, steady vibration of the broken bond was a constant, distracting sound. It was the sound of her fear overlaid with his political worry.
To fight the overload of feeling, Allister had pulled out a huge, old set of scrolls the Ancient Codes of Silverwood documents so old they smelled like dust and dried blood. If there was a loophole, a forgotten rule that could delay Maeve's command or cancel the hostage requirement, it was here.
He forced himself to concentrate, pushing his immense Alpha will not against Sunflower, but into the scrolls, using the high-level focus demanded by his rank. Surprisingly, the broken bond, which had been a source of pain, settled down. By focusing every bit of his conscious thought on the pack's history, the bond seemed to find a new use: it quieted, acting almost as a shared thinking machine. Sunflower was now quietly processing the ancient pack laws alongside him, whether she wanted to or not.
He felt a sudden flash of understanding not his own, but hers as she silently read the scroll describing the punishments for working with Nightingale Blood (a mysterious name for an old enemy).
"That's a death sentence, even for touching them," Sunflower murmured, startling him. She was speaking out loud, but her voice was muted, as if she knew his ears were strained. "Your people are thorough."
"Read, don't comment," Allister ordered, rubbing his eyes. He realized he didn't even need to hold the scroll. If she focused on the text, he received the information instantly through the bond.
Sunflower obeyed, her gold and purple eyes tracking the dense writing. She was leaning against the cold iron grate of the small window in her room the only source of light. As she read a particularly dense paragraph on family requirements, she carelessly brushed her hand along the thick, rusted bar of the cold iron.
The quiet beat of the bond instantly spiked into a sharp, blinding jolt of pain pure agony that wasn't mental or emotional, but physical. It was like a sudden, severe headache, instantly spreading out from the contact point.
Allister gasped, flinching back from the scroll. "What was that?"
Sunflower pulled her hand back instantly, her face pale beneath the grime. She stared at the iron bar as if it had bitten her.
"Nothing," she muttered, shaking her head. "Just… a cramp."
Allister, however, had felt the clear, sharp spike of pain in his mind, and it had been instantly linked to the cold iron. Iron was used in pack rituals for its strength and solidity; it had no effect on a true wolf.
He stood up, walking to the shared wall, his voice low with intense scrutiny. "Liar. That was pain. You reacted to the iron. Wolves don't react to iron, Sunflower. Only legends and old stories about…" He trailed off, the horrifying implications suddenly becoming clear. "About Fairies. Or… or something worse."
Sunflower flinched, her eyes dropping to the floor. The defiant sarcasm returned, but it was strained. "Oh, I see. My mixed-blood nature isn't just wolf, it's… I'm sensitive to metal. Clearly, my other half is a failed metal-worker. My parents must have had a truly sick sense of humor."
"Stop joking!" Allister roared, slamming his hand against the wall. "What is your other half? Tell me the truth, or Maeve's sentence will look like a vacation!"
"The truth is," she whispered back, her voice shaking slightly, "I don't know. I know it's not wolf. I know it's powerful. And I know the people who fear iron the most are the people who hunt whatever I am. That's why I was near the wall, Allister. The mortar there is laced with ancient silver a protective charm. I was looking for a specific type of silver charm to shield myself from my trackers. Not a map."
The revelation that she was running from a supernatural enemy who feared Cold Iron made his blood run cold. Maeve and the Elders were playing with a fire they couldn't possibly understand.
A second knock at the outer door interrupted the agonizing exchange. It was Ivan, carrying a small, sealed message scroll.
"Alpha," Ivan said, entering the room and immediately dropping his gaze away from the door to Sunflower's cell. He still smelled the lingering ozone, but his professionalism was absolute. "Elder Maeve is sending Celeste to the south border to discuss the 'lone wolf issue' with the neighboring Moonstone pack. She leaves tonight."
Allister instantly understood. Maeve was not sending Celeste away; she was sending her to establish the future mate's political ties and ensure the Silverwood alliance.
"And the lone wolf in question?" Allister asked, his eyes sharp.
Ivan sighed, lowering his voice. "The Elders have found a loophole, Allister. They've tasked me with translating it. Under Code 4, Section Beta, they can execute a hostage without political trouble if the Alpha finds evidence that the captive has been actively working against the pack's current security."
Ivan's eyes, full of loyalty and deep-seated concern, met Allister's. "They are sending wolves to the old wall now, Alpha. They are looking for the book. They are looking for proof that she is a spy, not a thief."
Allister felt a terrifying calm descend over him. The countdown had turned into a trap.
He looked down at the scroll in his hand the Ancient Codes. He hadn't found a loophole to save her, but Ivan had just handed him a terrifying, desperate way to buy time.
He found the clause Ivan had mentioned. Code 4, Section Beta… execution allowed if the captive is proven to be actively working against the pack's security.
Allister's mind, now sharpened by the broken bond and the shared fear, focused on the opposing party: Celeste.
If he couldn't prove Sunflower was harmless, he had to prove Celeste was dangerous.
He looked at the scroll again, then at the wall behind which his fated mixed-blood mate was listening. He had one option: use the deadline to his advantage. He had two sunrises left to save Sunflower by destroying the political purity of the woman he was supposed to choose.
Allister crumpled the scroll in his fist, his voice cold and hard.
"Ivan," he commanded. "Cancel the patrol to the old wall. Tell Maeve that I have the evidence I need and I will present it tomorrow at the first sunrise. And then, Beta, I want you to start gathering every single financial record Celeste has signed in the last six months. Every single one."
Ivan looked confused, but the Alpha command was absolute. "As you wish, Alpha."
Allister waited until Ivan had left before turning back to the wall. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, silver-tipped tool Sunflower had given him. He held the scent of cold iron to his nose.
"Sunflower," he whispered, the sound vibrating through the stone. "I can't save you by proving you are innocent. I can only save you by proving she is guilty. Are you willing to help me expose the pure-blood mate you're competing with?"
The beat of the broken bond intensified, filling his mind not with fear, but with a sharp, dangerous surge of cynical excitement.
I live for drama, Alpha, her voice echoed clearly in his mind, sharp and immediate, but what exactly do you have in mind?