Chapter 6

Don’t Provoke the Beast

The eastern wing turned out to be quieter than the rest of the fortress.

Not empty.

Just removed from the constant movement filling the lower halls.

By the time Lyra finished unpacking what little she’d brought from the Vale territory, night had already settled fully across Blackfang.

Snow drifted past the tall arched windows overlooking the mountains while distant torchlight flickered across the frozen courtyard below.

Somewhere deeper in the fortress, wolves howled.

Not violently.

The sound carried through the stone halls almost like conversation.

Mirelle finished folding the last of Lyra’s dresses into the carved cedar wardrobe before glancing toward her carefully.

“You haven’t spoken in nearly an hour.”

Lyra sat near the fireplace with a blanket draped over her knees, staring into the flames.

“I’m thinking.”

“That usually worries me.”

A small smile tugged briefly at Lyra’s mouth.

It disappeared quickly.

She still couldn’t stop replaying the courtyard scene from earlier.

The wolves lowering their heads.

Kael watching from the archway.

The look in his eyes afterward.

Not surprise exactly.

Something closer to recognition layered beneath suspicion.

Like he’d noticed a pattern he didn’t understand yet.

“You saw them too,” Lyra said quietly.

Mirelle paused while adjusting the wardrobe doors.

“The wolves?”

Lyra nodded.

“They bowed.”

Mirelle hesitated long enough to answer the question without actually answering it.

“I’ve never seen animals react to someone that way before.”

Neither had Lyra.

And that frightened her more than she wanted to admit aloud.

A knock sounded at the door before either woman could continue.

Not loud.

Just firm enough to command attention immediately.

Mirelle moved toward the entrance first, but one of the fortress servants spoke before she could open it.

“Alpha Draven requests Lady Lyra’s presence.”

Requests.

Interesting choice of wording.

Mirelle looked back at Lyra uncertainly.

“You don’t have to go alone.”

“I know.”

But refusing the Black Wolf King during her first night inside his fortress felt unwise for reasons she couldn’t fully explain.

The servant led her through unfamiliar corridors lit by low fire sconces and moonstone lanterns set into the walls.

Blackfang fortress looked different at night.

Less imposing.

More intimate.

The enormous halls softened beneath firelight while distant music drifted faintly from somewhere below the western stairwell.

Not court music.

Something slower.

A violin maybe.

“Does the fortress always stay this busy?” Lyra asked quietly while they walked.

The servant glanced back, seemingly surprised she’d spoken.

“Usually busier during winter.”

“Why?”

“Safer behind the mountain walls.”

Simple answer.

But it told her a lot.

People didn’t hide inside fortresses unless the world outside gave them reason to.

Eventually the servant stopped near a pair of iron doors at the end of a quieter corridor.

“Inside, my lady.”

Then he left immediately.

Very immediately.

Lyra noticed that too.

She stood there for a second before knocking lightly.

A low voice answered from inside.

“Enter.”

Kael’s study looked less like an Alpha king’s office and more like a war room someone occasionally slept in by accident.

Maps covered most of the central table beneath scattered documents and military reports. Several candles had already burned halfway down beside an untouched glass of whiskey near the window.

A fire crackled quietly along the far wall.

And Kael stood beside it removing his gloves one finger at a time.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Without armor and heavy winter layers, he somehow looked more dangerous instead of less.

More real.

The scar crossing near his collarbone disappeared beneath the open collar of a black shirt rolled carelessly at the sleeves. His dark hair looked slightly damp from melted snow, loose around his face in a way that made him seem less controlled than usual.

Which was somehow worse.

“You wanted to see me?”

Kael looked up then.

Really looked at her.

The room suddenly felt much smaller afterward.

“I wanted to understand something.”

Lyra remained near the doorway.

“And have you?”

“No.”

At least he was honest.

Kael crossed slowly toward the large table in the center of the room before leaning one hand against the edge.

“The wolves in the courtyard,” he said. “Does that happen often around you?”

Lyra frowned slightly.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“But you noticed it.”

“Yes.”

Another silence stretched between them.

Not hostile.

Just careful.

Like both of them were circling the same unanswered question from different directions.

Kael studied her for another moment before speaking again.

“The northern wolves don’t submit easily.”

“I wasn’t asking them to.”

“I know.”

Something unreadable flickered briefly across his expression again.

That same strange awareness from the wedding ceremony.

Lyra’s attention drifted toward the maps covering the table.

Border territories.

Military routes.

Trade markings.

Most of the notes were written in Kael’s sharp slanted handwriting.

“You’re preparing for war,” she realized softly.

Kael’s gaze sharpened immediately.

“You recognize military formations?”

“My father taught strategy to future pack leaders.” A pause. “Before he realized I’d never become one.”

Something about that answer altered the atmosphere slightly.

Not pity.

Kael did not strike her as a man capable of easy pity.

But perhaps recognition.

“You should avoid discussing military matters publicly here,” he said after a moment.

Lyra looked back at him.

“Because I’m southern?”

“Because there are people in this fortress who would happily use you against me if given the opportunity.”

That surprised her enough to quiet the next response forming in her throat.

Kael moved toward the whiskey near the window, though he still hadn’t actually drunk any of it.

“You’ve entered a territory built on fragile alliances,” he continued. “Blackfang is stable because people fear consequences. Not because they trust one another.”

The honesty of that caught her off guard again.

Most rulers preferred pretending loyalty came naturally.

Kael spoke about power the way soldiers spoke about weather.

Practical.

Unromantic.

“You’re warning me,” Lyra said slowly.

“I’m telling you not to provoke anyone unnecessarily.”

Something in his tone shifted slightly on the last sentence.

Subtle.

But there.

Lyra folded her arms loosely against the cold.

“I survived the Vale territory for twenty-four years,” she said. “I know how to keep quiet.”

Kael’s eyes settled on her face for a long moment after that.

Long enough that she started wishing she hadn’t said it.

“That,” he said quietly, “isn’t what concerns me.”

The room went still around the words.

Before Lyra could ask what he meant, Kael suddenly crossed the space between them.

Fast enough to startle her backward instinctively.

Her shoulders hit the stone wall near the bookshelf a second later.

And Kael stopped directly in front of her.

Close.

Far too close.

One hand braced against the wall beside her head while his attention fixed completely on her throat.

Not her face.

Her throat.

Like he was listening for something underneath her skin.

Lyra’s pulse stumbled hard once.

Kael noticed immediately.

She could tell by the way his jaw tightened.

“What are you?” he asked softly.

Not cruelly.

Not accusingly.

The question sounded almost frustrated.

As though he genuinely wanted an answer and hated that he didn’t already know it.

Lyra stared up at him, suddenly very aware of how warm his body felt compared to the freezing stone wall behind her.

“I’m your wife,” she replied carefully.

For the first time all evening, Kael actually looked irritated.

Not at her.

At himself.

His head lowered slightly then.

Not enough to touch her.

Enough that she felt his breath near her skin.

And there it was again—

that strange shift in the atmosphere surrounding him whenever he got too close.

Like something inside him became restless.

“You smell wrong,” he murmured.

The words should have sounded insulting.

Instead they came out rougher than intended.

Distracted.

Lyra’s heartbeat sped up again despite herself.

Kael closed his eyes briefly.

Just briefly.

But she saw it.

Saw the exact moment he caught the scent of her fear beneath everything else.

And for reasons she didn’t understand yet—

that seemed to affect him almost as much as it affected her.