“How does that make you unworthy, maybe you’re just a hopeless romantic?”
I shoot her an incredulous look. First, I look unworthy, and now I look hopeless. Gods help me. “I don’t know which is worse.”
Our pace is brutal. Snow crunches beneath our paws as we weave between bare trees, the forest a blur of white and fur. The wind cuts sharp and the weight on my back isn’t just my pack, it’s every doubt, every lingering stare, every wolf questioning whether I’m Alpha material.
Even my own pack trails farther back than they should. They’re not running with me. They are watching me, counting on me to fail.
Tala keeps pace at my flank, quiet now.
But before we left, she’d confronted me again, “You could have ripped his throat out. No one would have stopped you.”
“I know.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
“I’m not like him, I don’t want to rule with fear, I want respect.”
She fell silent, but I felt her question hanging in the air. Then who are you?
The truth is, I don’t know anymore.
I was forged in a fight I didn’t start, crowned in blood I didn’t want to spill. I didn’t become Alpha to dominate. I did it to survive.
It seems that’s all I’ve been doing ever since.
Up ahead, a scuffle breaks out. Two of the younger wolves, freshly turned eighteen this year, Bren and Corv, snap and tumble through the grass, snarling and jowls snapping at each other.
Olcan stands nearby, not intervening. Of course.
I shift mid-stride, my bones stretching until I land in human form. “Enough!” My voice cracks like thunder.
The fight halts. Blood splatters the muddy grass.
I grab Corv by the scruff and yank him upright. He bares his teeth, but when he sees my face, he immediately drops his gaze, shifting back to human form. I drop him in the mud.
“Bren shoved me,” he mutters. “Said he’d be a better mate than me.”
“This isn’t for you to decide. That’s for the gods to sort.” I growl, looking both of them in the eye. “You want to prove something, do it with the trials, not by tearing each other apart.”
Corv nods, Bren mutters an apology. Muddy and nude on the ground makes them look ever their age. They have no idea what they are in for. What being a real mate means. Feeding a mate or a family throughout a long winter, hunting in freezing conditions, and gathering furs. It’s brutal to have another wolf be reliant on you.
I step back and shift again, fur bristling, and heart pounding. We’re close, grass sprouts up all around us. Over this mountain, the Ancient Castle sits in the next valley.
After ten years, the journey to the castle is a trek I’ve memorized. The wolves pound up the mountain crest toward the valley.
The sun is just high enough to be seen over the edge of the mountain, casting it into a pretty golden hue. The wind shifts. On that breeze carries a hint of jasmine. I close my eyes, relishing the scent.
My mate could very well be in the castle right now.
Hopefully, this is my year.
Chapter 4
EMBER
Iconsider myself in shape. I hunt. I train. I won that race to the castle and didn’t even cheat. But those steep cliffside steps? They proved me wrong.
Thankfully, I’m not the only one gasping. Every wolf except Roman is breathing like we just fought off a bear. He trots ahead, not a care in the world, not a bead of sweat in sight. The rest of us stumble through the large arched doorway. The stone foyer stretches high into the rafters that rise in peaks above us, a candelabra hangs down from the central arch. A pair of stone steps rise above us, hiding a set of double doors in their shadows.
